Felix (Slim), Male, 5-7

	- Narrator, nephew of Jamie

	- Pale white skin, 3'4 - 3'8, 40-45lbs, short brown hair

Jamie, Female, 26-28

	- Aunt of Felix

	- Beige skin, 5'1, 80lbs, golden-brown hair past shoulders

My name is Felix, but no one but my grandmother ever called me that. To everyone else, I was Slim. I'd been born premature, and never seemed to catch up with boys my age in height or weight. The nickname stuck, and that's what I answered to until I was much older.

Aunt Jamie was my mom's youngest sister, the last of five girls. I recall that when I was five or so, Aunt Jamie had just come to live with us. I found out later it was because she was hooked on pain pills and had just started the years-long process of getting clean. She came and went often over the years, staying for weeks or months when she had nowhere to live. At the time, though, the five-year old me just knew she was sleeping a lot, sometimes in her room, sometimes on a couch or in a chair. A few times, she simply sprawled out on the shag carpet and drooled as she snored.

I didn't know why she was always sleeping. As a young boy, I often curled up with her to nap. It felt warm to be next to her.

When I was five, Aunt Jamie was about twenty-six. She was short, like my mom, and very, very thin. Anorexic, probably. She never got so bad that her hair or teeth fell out or anything like that, and, of course, I knew nothing about that as young boy. Her hair was quite pretty, I thought. Golden-brown and down past her shoulders. I recall it was very silky when I touched it, and when she bothered to wash it, her gold locks were shiny and flecked with hints of both copper and mahogany. Her light-blue eyes stuck out, as well, and even when she looked like she was sick or upset, those eyes were always shining. At least, it felt that way to me when I was small.

One day, she was napping on the couch, wearing a short skirt and thin blouse, and I remember smelling something odd. It happened when I'd passed by her purse. Whatever made me do what I did then, I'll never know. I don't recall consciously thinking about it, I was just trying to find the source of the interesting smell. I picked up her purse and took it to my bedroom, sitting down on the bed and opening the flaps.

Inside, was a treasure trove of things I didn't know. Small cylinders with twist-off caps. Strange plastic-wrapped napkins of some sort. Plastic cases of something which looked like clay. There was a hair brush, some of Aunt Jamie's blonde strands stuck in knots between the tines. I found a pocket knife which I recognized. I'd been warned not to touch such things. I did anyway, taking it out to turn over in my hands.

I pulled out everything, carefully setting each item on the bed. I found a few bottles of pills. I didn't remotely connect Aunt Jamie's frequent naps with the white and pink and light-blue medications. Inside the purse, I scooped out several coins, and then I stopped my motions.

There was a fabric of some kind, and even though it wasn't something I was aware of at the time, the folded underwear drew me in. I reached inside and brought out the panties. They were lacy and light-purple. The strange odor I'd smelled earlier became stronger. I unwrapped the folds and turned the panties over in my hand. They felt damp in one spot, so I pulled it closer to my face. Again, the scent grew stronger.

I somehow got the gusset turned out and I saw what looked like white and light-yellow crust over a big patch of the white inner fabric. It was dried, cracked, and stuck tightly to the panties. I was fascinated. I think the strong odor of Aunt Jamie's dirty panties did something to my brain. I was too young for it to be consciously sexual, but I think parts of my nervous system got an early wake up call when I kept inhaling Aunt Jamie's stink.

For reasons still a mystery to me, I determined to try on the underwear. No clue why that is what the five-year old me decided to do. I slipped off my shorts and underwear, righted the panties, then fit one leg through a hole, then the other, pulling the soiled crotch of Aunt Jamie's lacy drawers up tight against my little hairless balls. Even though my aunt was very skinny for her age, the panties were way too big, so I had to hold them up with my hands. I ran to a bathroom and stood in front of the mirror hanging beside the sink.

I saw me, a little boy, my mouth open slightly, eyes wide, holding Aunt Jamie's dirty purple panties up against my crotch. I can't even describe what that felt like. It was a literal eye-opening experience.

“Well, that's something new,” Aunt Jamie's voice made me spin and drop the panties, no shame at my nakedness, only some instinct that I'd been up to something I shouldn't have been. She hadn't sounded angry, just surprised. Little me thought I might have been doing something wrong in that way that all kids seem to know instinctively that it is so. I held my breath.

Jamie looked at me, then turned back towards my bedroom, “I suppose you went through my purse, then?”

I nodded, nervous.

“In your room?”

I nodded again.

“Alright,” she told me, “let's go collect it. And hand me those.”

I knew she meant the panties, but I couldn't move.

Aunt Jamie grinned then leaned down, helping me step out of the underwear. I had no clue what she meant when she chuckled and told me, “The rest of you may be small, but that's gonna be a big one, you'll see.”

She took the panties and led me to her room. She said nothing as she gathered all the items and put them in her purse. “Promise me you won't get into my purse again.”

“I promise,” I assured her, hoping that was most severe punishment I would receive.

“And these...” she said, laughing, rubbing the panties in one hand. I swear I saw her inhale against them. Maybe I made up that detail in the years since. I don't know. What I am certain happened was that Aunt Jamie pulled off the ragged jeans she wore, stepped into the dirty underwear and pulled them up to her crotch. For the briefest of seconds, I caught a glimpse of her nether regions. The dark hair there was a surprise. I didn't know what I was seeing, certainly not the context of it, but Aunt Jamie had accidentally flashed me her pussy, and then pressed the soiled, caked crotch of the dirty panties against it. In later years, that moment would fuel a lot of my masturbatory excitement, even after so many other things had happened since. I'll get to those soon.

- - -

Flash forward. I was seven, I believe. Aunt Jamie was living with us for the third stint in two years. I had long forgotten that impressionable moment from two years earlier, at least I had until I walked into the living room one day and saw Aunt Jamie passed out on the couch, wearing a short, florally skirt, legs spread, lacy light-purple panties easy to see. I swear it was the same pair as before.

I was a bit older this time. Still sexually unaware, but I had begun to understand that seeing my aunt spread open like that, her panties visible, was interesting. I stared at her for a long time. I wondered if the panties felt moist. If they smelled like they did before. If that unusual crusty stuff was in the gusset.

My parents were gone for a couple of hours to visit friends, and I dared to walk to where my aunt was out cold and leaned my head down over her crotch. I inhaled deeply. It's hard to say how much is real memory and how much of this is described with details I've filled in, but I recall the odor being strong and almost off-putting. I wouldn't describe it as fishy, just... strong, like she hadn't bathed in days. Off-putting or not, I didn't move my head. In fact, I leaned closer. Whatever that ripe, pungent smell was really like, it made me feel naughty.

I heard a chuckle and froze, my eyes barely daring to look at Aunt Jamie's face. She was grinning. She told me, “I didn't exactly get all fancied up to have anyone that close.” Aunt Jamie didn't close her legs.

I don't recall being exactly scared. Anxious, maybe. I knew this was odd, certainly unique to me. I hadn't stood back straight again, my head just inches from her panty-covered crotch.

“Well,” she said, still grinning, “what's it smell like?”

“Uh,” I had nothing to compare it to. “Good?”

She laughed. “I doubt that.” Her lips pursed, “Funny little guy, aren't you, Slim?”

I shrugged.

“Well, hurry up then,” she said, her legs opening and closing half-way, “I need to whizz.”

I sorta knew what that meant, the whizz part. But I had no clue what she meant by 'hurry up.'”

“Go on. Give it a touch.”

I only then realized that I'd not just been sniffing Aunt Jamie's dirty crotch, but one of my hands had also moved to where my fingers dangled just an inch or two away from the fabric.

“Really?” I asked.

“Hurry up, now,” she said, shaking her head.

I was awash in buzzing, tingling sensations. I knew I was doing something naughty, even if I didn't have the context to understand it. My fingers brushed the fabric and I held them lightly over top.

The warmth came through immediately, and it surprised me how easily I felt the heat from Aunt Jamie's crotch. I started to run my fingers up and down the narrow patch of the gusset, thrilled by the way it felt so soft, the panties and the parts underneath. They were damp! I realized the darker purple area in the middle was really wet. I let my fingers stop there, moving in little circles.

There was a lightly-raised area, too, just above it. I had no clue what it was. I moved a finger and brushed it gently, then again.

“Mmm... careful,” she said and I pulled my hand away, “getting me going, now. Can't have your Aunt Jamie letting you do that, Slim. Much as we both might enjoy it...”

She started to close her legs and I finally stepped back. She smiled at me, then said, “Tell you what. If you want, later, after your parents are in bed, maybe I'll bring you a gift. Can you stay up that late?”

I nodded enthusiastically, excited, even if I didn't know what she meant.

“Okay. Our secret?”

“Our secret.” I repeated.

- - -

My parents came back later and Aunt Jamie stayed in her room. My parents were pretty good to me, but I don't think they really paid much attention to my moods. If they had, they surely would have realized I was acting funny. I had a strange buzz in my stomach. What was Aunt Julie going to give me? I didn't connect the touches of her crotch with the offer, so I imagined it would be toys or comic books or something else really cool.

Thankfully, my parents were tired, and I was already in my room when I heard their door down the hall close shut for the night. I waited on the edge of the bed, excited. It seemed to take forever, but a very soft knock on my door finally signaled that Aunt Jamie had arrived with my gift.

She opened the door and slipped inside, smiling at me. She carried something balled up in her hand. Aunt Julie knelt down and pressed a soft fabric into my hands. “My treat to you. Our secret, okay?”

I nodded and looked down.

It was the soiled, damp, lacy purple panties she'd worn earlier that day.

“You don't need to go through my purse this time. I left a little something extra in there, as well.” Aunt Jamie turned and walked out of my room and closed me back inside.

I wasn't sure whether to be happy or disappointed. I didn't understand. Something extra? What did that mean?

I unfolded the panties and could smell that distinct, strong odor immediately. I grew warm and felt fuzzy. Turning the panties inside out, I looked at the white fabric of the gusset. As they had been two years earlier, there was a long stain caked into the crotch. It was light-yellow, crackled and matted.

But over that, a smaller, creamy-looking deposit had been left. It looked different. White, mostly, like thick milky-water. I raised it to my nose on instinct and sniffed it. The strong aroma was wonderful and exotic. I couldn't tell if the fresh, wet stuff smelled different than the larger dried crust, but it all was so nice to inhale. Over and over I sniffed Aunt Jamie's soiled panties and even curled up in bed with them against my nose.

- - -

It wasn't the last time Aunt Jamie brought me her dirty panties. She did it again a couple of days later, taking back the old pair. These didn't smell as strong, but her scent was still clear in my nose. It became a habit to sleep with them so that I could smell her odors all night.

Aunt Jamie moved out again after a few weeks, then came for a visit a few months later. I hadn't given the last pair of panties back, and I was eager to get a new pair since the others had lost her scent.

Mom and Dad had gone out, and I think Aunt Jamie was in one of her more sober periods. She agreed to keep an eye on me, and once my parents were gone, I somehow found the courage to ask, “Uh, Aunt Jamie? Can I have another panty?”

She grinned at me, seated on the couch, wearing another skirt, a loose green one which probably came down to her knees. “Still wanting that, huh, Slim? Got the old one?”

I nodded and raced to my room, bringing back the last pair which I'd carefully hidden beneath my bed. Though they no longer had much scent, the crusty patch was still there. Aunt Jamie took them and put them in her purse, then stood up, reaching under her skirt. She quickly stepped out of her panties, a light-yellow cotton type, and passed them to me.

Before I could take them, the hem of her skirt had caught on her wristwatch and as Aunt Jamie tried to shake it free, she expose her nether regions to my eyes. Maybe it was because I was almost eight, or maybe I started to get to a point where I could be aroused directly, but it was the first time I remember my little pecker getting hard. It was so unusual to notice it that I tore my eyes from where Aunt Jamie's furry patch was quickly covered by her skirt so that I could look down at where my pajama bottoms were pushed out in an odd way.

My aunt looked down at me and laughed, “Wow. Guess your aunt really does it for you, Slim.”

“Huh?”

Her hand reached down and she lightly tapped my penis through my bottoms. “You gotta stiffy for me. Didn't know you were old enough for that.” She laughed again, her fingers still grazing my length. “Say, Slim,” she said lightly, “can I see it?”

“See, uh, what?”

“Your little dickie.”

“Dickie?” I asked, confused. I knew little, if anything about sex or genitals. The word 'dick' might have been said before, but I doubt I knew what it meant then.

“Sure. This,” she said, wrapping a couple of fingers underneath the bulge and squeezing it. I felt funny suddenly, in a good way.

“Okay.” I sat her panties on the couch and pushed down my pajama bottoms. Standing straight out from my body, I saw my penis erect for the first time, at least as I can recall. I was in awe of what it looked like. Sure, it was probably no more than two, maybe three inches, but it felt like it was pulsing and strong, the red head bulging out front, my circumcised member bobbing with each beat of my heart.

“Well, hello there, Slim Junior.” Aunt Jamie touched it again and I jumped. “Sorry, just looking.” But she wasn't just looking. She hooked one or two fingers around my short shaft and stroked it. I felt fluttering sensations in my stomach. I think I giggled. “Feels good?”

I nodded, grinning.

“Only fair, I figure,” Aunt Jamie said, still looking at my little wiener, “you've seen mine.”

I was confused again. “You have a dickie?”

She laughed and covered her face with her hand. “No, silly. I meant my special place. Call it my purse.”

“Huh?”

“Just a nickname I gave it. Not the bag I carry around, mind you,” Aunt Jamie told me, “but this.” She let go of my dick and pulled up her skirt, showing me again the hairy parts beneath. I stared in wonder.

With one hand, she pointed to the slit just visible between her thighs. “That's my purse, just there,” she said, then used a finger to pull back on one side, opening the little slit there. It was reddish inside, a noticeable contrast with the pale and pinkish flesh just outside. “Here,” Aunt Jamie told me, “wanna touch it?”

I nodded and she took my hand, pressing it gently against her crotch. The hairs felt scratchy but kinda nice, and the heat between her legs quickly warmed my fingers. I giggled again.

“One second,” she said, dropping her skirt back down then climbing on the couch, spreading her legs, and flipping her skirt up over her waist. “Now, that's better. You can get a proper look.”

She motioned me between her legs. Her head was resting on the cushioned arm of the couch, her butt pushed forward and her thighs well-parted. I stared in awe as I watched the pinkish-red sides of the thin slit stick together then start to open, a strand of something sticky stretching as the slit widened. A small hole was there, folded over inside so that I couldn't see beyond the entrance. It looked wet and slick. “Go ahead. Touch it.”

So I did. I crawled between Aunt Jamie's legs and got down close, my face a foot or so above her crotch. She smelled clean, mostly of soap, nothing like the strong odors I'd found there other times. She brushed her fingers through her dark fur there, and my hand moved forward on its own.

I slid them up and down the edges of the thin slit. She was wet! It was slippery on my fingers, and it felt great to slide my skin along hers. I realized Aunt Jamie was cooing lightly, her eyes half-open. She said, “Put a finger in. Careful with your fingernails.”

I figured out that she meant in that little, shallow hole I'd noticed. It didn't look like there was anywhere for my finger to go, but I put one against the opening anyway.

It gave slightly, and I giggled. I pushed and it yielded. I was overwhelmed by how it let me push deeper and deeper. Pretty soon, I was all the way inside, no more of my finger to offer. Aunt Jamie's little hole was warm and soft. “Another one,” she said, her voice low and breathy. I pushed my middle finger in with the other, and it was a whole different sensation on my hand. Now I was deeper still, and I realized I could feel the slick hole clenching around me. I laughed and Aunt Jamie laughed with me.

Her hips started to move and I looked up at her. “Just hold them in there...”

Her hand slid to the place at the top of the slit which was sticking out. I swear it looked kind of like the tip of my dickie. Aunt Jamie moved her fingers over that spot and she started to moan. “Ohhh... That's it, Slim... Keep them in me... Keep fingering Aunt Jamie's purse...”

I didn't know what was going on, but I was enjoying it. I could tell Aunt Jamie was, too. She kept saying things to encourage me. “Oh, you feel good, Slim. That feels real good, now. Getting close... getting close...”

Her hips were moving faster now, and it felt like her hole was opening more. It certainly became much more wet and slick. My hand was coated with the wetness. I could smell something stronger in her scent. Not stinky or bad, but something like warm butter, maybe. Fresh-cooked rice. Something nice and pleasant.

“One more, Slim... Put one more in and I'm there...”

I did so, my ring finger pushing in. It took just a bit more effort since the hole was squeezing suddenly, tighter. But I got in, and soon Aunt Jamie was really loud, her hand a blur over the hard spot above her slit. “Oh, yes! Oh, yes! That's it... That's it, Slim... Oh, Slim... Oh... Fuuuuuuuuuuck! Fuuuuuuuuuck. Uuhnnn! Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uhhhhhhhnnnnn...” Her body was thrashing. I thought she might be having a fit like my grandmother had sometimes.

I started to pull away, but Aunt Jamie's hand grabbed mine and kept it pressed in her as she wiggled and started to slow her movements. She was breathing heavily, like I did when I ran in gym class. I couldn't tell if she was alright, not until she finally said, “Oh, damn, Slim... Damn...”

Her eyes winked open and her smile returned. Slowly, she sat up and I pulled out of her hole. My fingers were drenched with a light, white creamy goo. Aunt Jamie purred and said, “Put that on your dickie.”

“Huh?”

“I'll show you.” She used her fingers to gather some of the creamy stuff from my fingers and then rubbed it all over my two-or-three-inch erection which was still standing proud. It felt funny, and then it felt amazing. I vibrated as she stroked me. “Now you try it,” Aunt Jamie said.

So I wrapped my hand around my little dick and got it all slick and wet. “Now stroke it like I did,” she told me. I began to do so, jerking off for the first time in my life. In just a few moments I was buzzing and shuddering, no idea what was going on. “Keep going, Slim. Keep going.” My aunt was watching my fingers sliding up and down my little shaft. “Feels good? Feels good, Slim?”

“Yeah,” I managed to breath as I panted. I started to feel even more funny, like all my muscles were trying to spasm at once. “Uhh... Uhhh...”

“Keep going! Keep going!”

“Uhh,” I burned and moaned and burned and moaned, “uhh... uhh... uhh...”

“That's it! You're there! Let it happen!”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... uhhh-uhhhhhhhhh-uhhhhh” I was shaking so hard my fingers flew off my dick. Aunt Jamie's hand was there, pumping me through my very first orgasm. Unlike later years, when I was closer to puberty, nothing came out, but it felt strong and wonderful all the same. I shivered, grinning, in shock and full of pleasure. “Uhhhhhh... uh... uh... oh... wow...”

“Wow is right, Slim,” Aunt Jamie said, slowing her movements on my shaft. “Felt good, right?”

“Uh-huh,” I replied. Good was an understatement. “What... uh... what was that?”

“You orgasmed!”

“Huh?”

“When you get older, that's how you'll get a girl pregnant. You'll be shooting stuff out of your dickie and into a girl's purse. That's how you get a baby.”

I had no real concept of sex, and certainly no idea of how one got to make a baby. I wasn't really in much of a state to think about it too much, buzzing, and I collapsed on the couch. Aunt Jamie wrapped her arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “Still our secret? About Aunt Jamie's purse and Slim's dickie?”

“Our secret,” I promised. I knew I would keep it, too. I wanted to play with Aunt Jamie's purse again as soon as possible.