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From: Calliope <andrew_morton@mac.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Eighteenth (FM family)
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Date: Sun, 08 Jan 2017 04:10:02 -0500
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This is a work of fiction. If anyone in it resembles anyone living or 
dead that may speak volumes about your psyche

___________

I shouldn't be writing this. I really shouldn't. If anyone recognised 
me from this or worked out who I was there would be Hell to pay. But I 
have to write this. What I've done is going round and round in my head 
and I have to let it out somehow. I can't talk about it to anyone - at 
least not anyone who actually knows me - so I suppose this is what I 
have to do.

My name is Zoë. I am thirty-five years old. I got married when I was 
twenty-seven to Mark and we moved into a nice little semi-detached 
house about thirty miles from where we grew up. We were both earning, 
at first, so we could afford a decent mortgage and lots of the little 
extras life can offer - holidays; nice cars and so forth. We were in 
love and our sex life was great. We were happy. After a few years I 
became pregnant and my daughter Emily was born. At first this made us 
the happiest people alive - and yes, I know, most parents say that. And 
don't get me wrong; when you have read what follows it may sound 
otherwise, but I love Emily to bits. After she was born things, though, 
started to go wrong for us. We had decided that I should stop work and 
that we could get by on Mark's salary. Then he lost his job. There were 
money troubles. The pressures of looking after a small child exhausted 
me and our relationship suffered. He had an affair. We shouted. We hit 
each other. Eventually we separated about three years ago.

Long story short I moved back, with Emily, to where I had come from. I 
thought it would help having family not too far away. I got a small 
two-bedroomed house a few streets away from my sister, Sharon, and her 
family and about a mile away from my brother. I started working again. 
Sharon helps out with the childcare when Emily is sick and can't go to 
primary school and her son, my nephew Sam, occasionally babysat for me 
when I had a night out. Not that that happened very often. The 
love-life of a thirty-five year old divorceé with a five year old child 
is not the endless round of sexual fulfilment you might imagine. Yes, I 
have toys. Yes I've had a few brief flings and a couple of one night 
stands. Still, though, I grew more than a little horny over about a 
year and really very frustrated.

Those are my excuses. I'm not at all sure they are adequate. The thing 
is that moving back to living near my sister and her family meant that 
I had support from them when I needed it. It also meant I had Sam to do 
a bit of babysitting. And not just babysitting. He had just completed 
his last year at school and he often dropped in  to see if I need 
anything or if there were any jobs I want done. I suspect his Mum put 
him up to it, but he's a good lad. He's also a good-looking young man. 
He's tall and dark like his father but has the piercing blue eyes that 
his mother and  I share. In the last couple of years he has taken an 
interest in his appearance and has been going to the gym. He's been 
developing a fine set of muscles. I found myself wondering about other 
things about his development. I once walked in on Sharon and Steve, her 
husband, at my parents' house back in the days when they were engaged 
but not yet married. Our parents were out and they were taking 
advantage of that and I noticed - before I mumbled my apologies and 
took myself off - that Steve's cock was really quite magnificent. 'Like 
father, like son?' You see where this is going, don't you? I started to 
fancy him. I started to think about him in bed at night when I reached 
into my bedside cabinet for my rabbit or my egg. I don't know. Maybe 
other aunts sometimes look at their nephews that way. I'm pretty sure 
most don't do anything about it.

I'd like to plead that things happened "by accident"; that "things got 
out of hand" or that he seduced me. None of those things would be true. 
His eighteenth birthday was coming up.  Emily was going to be with her 
father - we have always been sticklers for the idea that she sees us 
both regularly. I phoned Sharon and told her that I had a present for 
Sam but that he would have to come to my house to collect it. I made up 
some story about having a hot date that would mean that I would miss 
his party. After all, I said, he wouldn't mind his aunt being absent 
when he has all his friends there.

Then I started to get ready. After I had showered and shaved myself 
down below I walked through to my bedroom and stood naked in front of 
my bedroom mirror. I have a good body. I'm five foot-six inches tall 
and have long blonde hair. These are attractive features, I thought to 
myself. I have fantastic boobs. OK - That's bigging myself up. But 
that's what I was doing. They are 34E with big aureoles around my 
nipples and I count that as fantastic. My skin is white, bordering on 
albino, but a little make-up helps. I have a nice arse but am carrying 
a few pounds around the waist. So. A black silky thong that would 
contrast with my skin. A black bra that lifts my breasts and enhances 
my cleavage. I considered stockings but I wasn't sure they had the same 
pulling power for someone of - and here's where I actually thought 
about it - someone of Sam's age. Rejecting stockings I went for a dark 
brown skirt that was knee length but with a slit up the side that went 
all the way to my hip. Then I picked a low-cut tan-brown top. I looked 
at myself and said "You look gorgeous". By the time I had put on my 
make-up I seriously believed I was the sexiest woman on the planet.

About half an hour later I heard the back door open and Sam's voice, 
"Auntie Zoë!". I shouted back that I was in the living room. A few 
moments later Sam came in and I rose from my chair to greet him at the 
door. I ambraced him, kissing his cheek and holding him for a few 
seconds longer than I normally would, letting him take in the scent I 
had put on and feel my breasts against his firm well-developed chest.

"Come on in, birthday boy!" I said, releasing him and gesturing toward 
the two-seater sofa. "How's your day been going. I hope you've been 
having a good time."

"It's been great," he replied, sitting on the sofa. "I'm looking 
forward to my party tonight. I'm sorry to hear you won't be there." He 
smiled at me and I sat in the chair opposite him, crossing my legs so 
that the slit in my skirt offered him a fine view of my leg all the way 
up, pretty much, to my arse.

"I'm sorry too, Sam," I replied watching how his gaze kept flickering 
from my face to my boobs and to my thigh and back again. "Maybe I'll be 
able to get there later. Or maybe I'll be able to make it up to you 
some other way." I smiled at him and I swear he blushed. I wondered 
whether he had been thinking about me the way I had been thinking about 
him, depite my being nearly twice his age.

"A big day!" I said. "You only get to be eighteen once. You're a man 
now and I think that calls for a celebration. I got up again from my 
chair and went out to the kitchen, consciously swaying as I walked and 
imagining my nephew's eyes fixed on my arse. I returned a few moments 
later with a bottle of champagne from the fridge - well, Prosecco - two 
champagne flutes and a towel. "So," I said. You can legally have your 
first alcoholic drink outside your parents' home. I'd like to raise a 
glass to your manhood". I placed the glasses on the table in front of 
the sofa and unwound the wire cork-holder from the bottle, kneeling on 
the floor a few feet away from Sam. Then I pushed the cork free from 
the bottle. I know that's not the right way to do it, but the cork shot 
from the bottle and white foam flooded, for a moment or two, from the 
mouth of the bottle. I mopped it up and said "That reminds me of 
something....", then I mopped up the spilt champagne and poured some of 
what was left into the glasses. I handed one to Sam and took the other 
back with me as I sat back down in my chair, again crossing my legs to 
reveal as much of my thigh as possible. I raised my glass and toasted 
his birthday. "To manhood!".

Sam raised his glass and took a mouthful from it. "Thanks "Auntie Zoë," 
he said. Then we started chatting about stuff, but I kept dropping 
hints where I could. When he said that it was a new thing to be able to 
drink legally, I told him that there were lots of things that would be 
open to him now that he was a man. When he talked about finding it hard 
to ask girls out on dates I advised him that women were as interested 
in sex as he was and that he should be confident: that he was a 
good-looking young man and that women would be flocking to his door. I 
poured him another glass of champagne and we talked about what he was 
going to do now that he had left school and I told him that he could 
have whoever - correcting myself, "whatever" - he wanted if he took the 
opportunities when they came. And I watched his eyes. I watched the way 
they roved over my body and they way he flushed when he realised I 
might be watching him. It was time to move in.

"So, your present". I said. I got up from the chair and got a parcel 
from behind the sofa. It was wrapped in gift paper with a bright red 
bow. I handed it to Sam and he opened it it with care. I had bought him 
a drone with a camera attachment.

"Thanks Auntie Zoë," he said. "I've been after one of these.

"Yes, your Mum told me" I replied.

"Now I don't you want you using that to spy on women," said with a 
cheeky wink. "I don't want to see that thing hovering over my garden 
when I'm sunbathing topless." With that I bent over the small coffee 
table and kissed him on the forehead as and aunt might. Except, of 
course, in doing so, I gave him a look down my top that would have let 
him see all the way down to my navel if my tits weren't as pushed up 
and together as firmly as they were. "OK?" I said, moving my face only 
inches from his. Yes. He was having a good hard look at my twin assets.

I sat next to him on the sofa, turned in toward him and poured us 
another glass of Prosecco. I glanced down toward his crotch and there 
was a definite bulge in his trousers. "I don't get many pleasures, Sam, 
" said, sipping my drink and encouraging him to do likewise. "But 
making you happy is one of them." I moved a little closer to him so 
that my thigh was firm against his. I again raised my glass and 
proposed another toast. "To pleasure!"

"To pleasure," he responded and, as I held my glass up, he touched his 
glass to it. His eyes met mine as we both sipped from the touching 
glasses and I knew it was time for the endgame.

"Oh my word!" I said. "I nearly forgot. I told your Mum that you would 
have to come round to get your present, didn't I? I could have just 
brought this round. The other half of your present is upstairs and I'll 
need your help with it.". I patted his thigh, got up off the sofa and 
made for the door that led to the hallway and the stairs. He got up and 
followed me. On the stairs I was aware he was maybe five steps behind 
me. Just the distance, I thought, to give him the best chance of 
looking up my skirt. If he did he would have had a fine view of my arse 
and only the string of my thong.

I led him into my bedroom. He looked around for a moment and I shut the 
door behind us. I'm not sure why - there was no one else in the house. 
"Sam," I said in what I hoped was my most alluring voice, "The other 
part of your present is me." He turned to face me and I put my arms 
around is waist and pulled him close to me. I planted my lips on his. 
Instinctively he parted his and my tongue slipped between them and 
glided over his tongue. I felt the firmness of his chest against my 
boobs and the warmth of his body and I wanted him.

"Auntie Zoë..." he began, breaking the kiss.

I put my hand over his lips. "In this room I'm just Zoë" I said. "And 
what happens in this room stays in this room." I kissed him again and 
he responded. I felt his arms around my waist and we pulled each other 
close together. I felt the bulge in his trousers pressing against my 
groin and I felt his hands movings over the curves of my body. There 
was part of me that kept yelling at me that this was wrong; that kept 
reminding me that he was my sister's son; that kept reminding me that 
he was half my age. But there was also another part of me, located 
between my legs, that was telling me that I had needs; that a good 
looking young man with what felt like an interesting package between 
his legs was snogging me and that there was a whole kinky side to this 
whole auntie-nephew thing that was really turning me on.

"Time to unwrap your present, Sam" I said, huskily, and guided his 
hands to the buttons on my top. His hands were shaking a little, but 
there were only three buttons so in a minute or so my top was gone. I 
took off my bra because men just can't do that - especially when they 
are as young as Sam. He gasped - genuinely - when he saw my tits. I 
took his hands at the wrists and placed them over my boobs. I pressed 
them to them and helped him to slip my nipples between his fingers. God 
I love that! Our lips locked again and our tongues rolled over each 
other. I ran my hands up and under his t-shirt. His stomach was flat 
and his abdomen trembled at my touch. Upward to his fine chest, the 
t-shirt moving with my hands. Then off. We were skin to skin now and 
there was no turning back.

I guided his hands again, this time to unfasten my skirt. A moment 
later I felt it slipping down my legs to the floor and Sam's strong 
hands on my arse, kneading my buttocks. I unpoppered his jeans and 
unbuckled his belt. I really needed to get into his trousers now. I 
reached inside and was rewarded with the feel of a warm, thick cock, 
already firming up. "Hmmm..." I murmured. "You are a big boy, aren't 
you?" With that I released him, coquettishy slipped my thong down my 
legs and threw myself onto the bed. I lay on my back and beckoned to 
Sam. "Come on then! Catch up!" He pulled off his jeans and pants and 
pushed off his shoes in a matter of seconds and joined me.

Then we were rolling together on the bed, his thigh between mine, my 
shaved pussy grinding against his leg. I could feel his now very hard 
shaft against my belly as we kissed. My nipples were hard as well, and 
were singing to my pussy as Sam squeezed them between his fingers and 
kneaded my breasts. I whispered huskily in his ear, "Do you know to 
really get a woman ready to fuck?", a little shock of excitement 
knotting in my stomach as I used the word to my nephew. I put my hand 
on the top of his head and gently encouraged him down my body, kissing 
my breasts and my stomach on the way, until his face was between my 
legs. I felt his tongue slipping between my outer lips and a jolt of 
pleasure ran through me. It excited me to know that he could taste how 
wet I was. "The clitoris," I murmured softly. "That lump right at the 
top of the.. OH!! Yes!  That!" I moaned aloud as his tongue rolled over 
my button again and again and delicious sensations rolled through my 
groin.

After a minute or two I wriggled away from him and encouraged im up 
onto his knees. Kneeling in front of him I kissed him, tasting my 
juices on his lips and tongue. Then I said, "My turn," and began 
kissing my way down his chest, over his firm abdomen until I got to his 
cock. A good eight or nine inches in length and thick it stood proudy 
from his groin like a soldier at attention. I rolled my tongue lovingly 
over the deep pink head that protruded from his foreskin then down the 
long shaft and back up the underside along his pronounced inner tube. 
Then I took his head into my mouth. I heard him gasp and his pole 
jerked a little. Not too much of this, I thought. Just enough to get 
him good and eager. The idea that I had my sister's son's manhood in my 
mouth was adding to the thrill and I sucked him for about a minute.

Then I lay back again on the bed. I opened my legs and said "Showtime!" 
He positioned himself between my legs and I guided the head of his fine 
tool to my entrance. "OHHH!!" I gasped as, with a single thrust he was 
deep inside me. I felt my pussy walls stretching to take his girth and 
length. He isn't the biggest I've ever had, but he was going to places 
inside me where no man had gone for some considerable time. Then he was 
moving inside me; long, considered strokes that drew a gasp from me 
with each inward drive. I brought my legs up to allow him still deeper 
and felt his flanks moving against my inner thighs. I felt his groin 
grinding on my clit. I felt....I just felt wonderful. As he began to up 
the tempo of his movements inside me I began to moan with pleasure with 
each thrust.

Soon the waves of pleasure flowing out from my pussy were growing in 
intensity, it seemed, with every thrust of Sam's cock inside me. I 
locked my ankles around his back, pulling him deeper. "Oh my God, Sam!" 
I cried out feverishly, "Harder! Please! Harder! Fuck me harder!" I 
felt him pick up the pace, driving into me harder, deeper and faster. 
Pulses of pleasure throbbing out from my groin grew more frequent and 
began to merge with each other, amplifying each other. My breahling was 
so fast now and I was panting and writhing under my young lover's body. 
"OH!! OH YES!! I was crying out. "Fuck me Sam! 
FuckMe!FuckMe!!FuckMe!!!FuckMe!!!" I was nearly there. Then with a wail 
I cried out "OH! MY!! GOD!!!" and it arrived. Orgasm roared through my 
body like an express train thundering through a station and I shook 
from pussy to toes and to the top of my head. If I was a screamer I'd 
have alerted the whole neighbourhood to what we were doing.

Gradually the intensity subsided. Sam was still pounding away at my 
pussy and my body was trembling beneath him. Nevertheless I remembered 
that this was his birthday. "I said to him, my voice ridiculously 
tremulous for a woman of my age, "Get off me a minute." With a slightly 
regretful look he did as I asked. I pushed him down onto his back. "No 
reason why you should do all the work," I said and got astride him. I 
guided his cock back to my sopping wet pussy and sank down on it, 
enjoying every inch. Then I began to ride him, slowly at first, but 
more and more urgently as the pleasure of his shaft filling me with 
each movement began to build toward another crescendo. I felt his hands 
on my tits, kneading them. He was grunting now and I could tell he was 
close. My hips worked faster and I leaned forward to work my clit on 
the base of his cock.

"Oh God..." he groaned "Oh my God I'm gonna..."

I was on the pill and the idea that my nephew was about to cum inside 
me was just too exciting to ignore. It drove me to ride him faster, my 
own pleasure continuing to mount. "Yes!" I moaned. "Cum for me! Cum for 
your Auntie Zoë!" His hands reached out and grabbed the duvet, seizing 
it convulsively and I felt his shaft swelling inside me. With the first 
burst of his hot, thick seed inside me another wave of pure, unalloyed 
sexual joy flooded my body and I came for a second time.

I rolled off him and lay gasping on the bed. It felt like my whole body 
was glowing. After a while lying together I reminded him that no one 
could ever know about what had happened. He's a smart young man and 
understands that. Yes. I've shifted to the present tense. He's been 
coming round three or four times a week since then. He's started 
working as a waiter in a local restaurant which means he generally 
works evenings. That means he's free during the day when Emily is at 
primary school. I said at the beginning that I had to write this 
because I had stuff going round and round in my head. Maybe you thought 
I meant shame or embarrassment. No. It's excitement. I'm a thirty-five 
year old single mum whose sexual needs are being satisfied to a degree 
I haven't experienced for years - if ever - by a vigorous, well-hung 
young man. That he's half my age and happens to be my nephew adds a 
rackful of spice to all this.

Yes, I know we have to be careful. If anyone found out there'd be Hell 
to pay. And, yes, I know all about "the dangers of inbreeding". I have 
no intention of "breeding". This month, on doctor's advice, I'm off the 
pill. We're using condoms, or we're pleasuring each other with our 
mouths and our hands. That said, Sam has been dropping a few "subtle" 
hints about how gorgeous my bottom is and about how tight my rear 
knot-hole is when he plays it while he's going down on me. The thing 
is, though, I like a bit of anal - especially when I've got one of my 
toys buzzing away in my pussy. So, if he plays his cards right, I know 
a young man who, very soon, will get to bury his dick balls deep in his 
auntie's arse. Exciting days!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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