Path: not-for-mail
Newsgroups: alt.sex.incest.stories
Subject: Title story: "AUNT BETTY" Author: TABOO MAN 49088256
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
Lines: 325
Message-ID: <wuoCe.350703$iM6.87167@fe01.news.easynews.com>
X-Complaints-To: abuse@easynews.com
Organization: EasyNews, UseNet made Easy!
X-Complaints-Info: Please be sure to forward a copy of ALL headers otherwise we will be unable to process your complaint properly.
Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2005 08:17:32 +0000
===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/
AUNT BETTY Part 2
--------------------
SUMMARY: horny male college student lives with his widowed, equally horny and
voluptuous 37 year-old aunt. The sexual ardor between them has smoldered for
weeks, but thus far no action.
--------------------
After the moonlight swimming pool incident I was extremely edgy for days. It was
a wonder I was able to take notes in class. I looked at Aunt Betty with an acute
longing. The English have a (to me) funny-sounding expression, "keen as
mustard." I'm not sure how the expression is supposed to be used, but I suppose
if you fail to feed a dog for a couple of days and then hold a nicely broiled
lamb chop a couple of inches from its snout for a few long minutes--well that
dog will be "keen as mustard." I was keen as mustard for my voluptuous aunt. I
hung on her every word and gesture, trying to sense when she would finally
invite me to share her bed. My devotion to her was totally transparent.
There was no more physical contact between us for a few days. But, twice she
walked around the house immodestly wearing just her bra and briefs. Somehow I
knew not to approach her on those occasions; I sensed she wanted me to be a
voyeur, not a lover. On a third such occasion Aunt Betty invited me to stand in
the passageway near her bedroom and watch her undress, down to her underwear.
Everything she wore was just little snug for her buxom figure, and showed a
little bulge of extra flesh at the upper and lower edges of her lingerie. How I
longed to squeeze those sexy, adorable little bulges. She had left the room
lights on, and posed lasciviously for the mirror, cupping her full breasts and
then slowly running her delicate hands down her rounded belly and stopping at
her upper thighs. Unlike the models who pose for stroke magazines, who generally
put on exaggerated facial expressions of supposed "sexiness," Betty had no
expression except a subtle smile of satisfaction at what she saw in her mirror.
As usual, I was totally mesmerized by what I saw. I said nothing, knowing from
past experience to keep a silent voyeuristic vigil.
******
When the night of consummation came, it was a total surprise to me. As usual,
Aunt Betty was in total control of the situation. She invited me to have
Saturday night dinner with her (I think it was the weekend before Thanksgiving)
and I remember well that the dinner consisted of a green salad, a small serving
of leftover pasta, a single glass of California Riesling wine for her, a single
glass of ice water for me. After clearing the table, I absentmindedly looked in
the refrigerator for a dessert; Aunt Betty observed my search, closed the
'fridge door and put both hands on my shoulders.
"My sweet child, tonight you'll sleep in my bed. You won't be wanting any rich
desserts just now." You can imagine how stunned I was by this sudden, yet long-
expected invitation.
"Yes, Aunt Betty, I look forward to...to being with you...more than I can say."
The sharp lust in my eyes was utterly genuine and transparent, and must have
more than compensated for my stiff, unromantic words, for Aunt Betty smiled and
said, simply, "Come to my room at eleven."
Eleven P.M. was about two hours off, plenty of time to shower thoroughly, brush
the teeth, gargle mouthwash. I softened my 18 year old whiskers with the hottest
water possible and took the slowest, most deliberate shave of my life. Partly to
look and feel perfect for my adorable Betty, and partly to make the time pass. I
sat in my room and solved some routine physics problems, then picked up the
sports section. The Browns were seven-and-two; if they beat Dallas tomorrow,
they were a cinch for the conference championship. I paced the room, then read
an article about the escalation of U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia. My mind
drifted to war, to the R.O.T.C., which I was thinking of joining to ease the
family finances. I calculated my chances of surviving combat as a second
lieutenant of infantry. What IS the half-life of a second lieutenant in combat?
Hours? Days? Morbid thoughts crept into my head. I wondered if I could even get
it up later tonight.
With a final splash of "4711" cologne on my cheeks and neck and chest, I
nervously padded down the passageway to her bedroom. Polite as always, I
knocked. "Come in, dear" was her reply.
O.K., now it's time for the obligatory seduction scene, right? With the heroine
prancing around wearing two hundred dollars worth of lacy, silky,
underthings from Victoria's Secret, right? WRONG. Aunt Betty, as usual, had
her own ideas. First of all, Victoria's Secret didn't exist at that time.
But mainly, she didn't intend to parade around in newly purchased exotic
lingerie, because she damn well didn't have to. She had already seduced me,
many times over. I was ready, had been for weeks. Keen as mustard, your
hero, Brad.
What happened was this. She came out of the bathroom with freshly brushed hair
and perfume, but a perfectly mundane, loose cotton nightgown which revealed
nothing but her nicely turned ankles. She read my puzzlement and disappointment
in an instant, and said, "Brad, tonight we are going to have a cozy, domestic
night...domestic as in husband and wife. In real life, husbands and wives don't
automatically make love before going to sleep."
Well, I was still confused, as you may imagine, but by now well trained to obey
her, so I said, "Sure, Aunt Betty" and leaned over to sniff her shampooed hair.
"You really smell great."
Later, much later, Aunt Betty told me that in her experience, most men are
sexually stronger in the morning than at bedtime, and that's why she insisted on
turning in that first night without making love. She had everything figured out!
In her teasing seduction of me, Aunt Betty had one more card to play: I slept
under the bedsheet while she slept between the sheet and the blanket. To the
very last, I was in some slight doubt about her intentions. Was this the
ultimate tease, or did she just enjoy control over the situation, over me? So,
with many layers of cloth between us we kissed goodnight, at first chastely,
then with more urgency. "Oh Brad, dear boy, give me a kiss that I'll remember in
the morning!" We kissed with mouths open, she grasped my upper, then lower lips
with both her lips, then let me do the same for her. I kissed her nose, then
licked her eyebrows, then licked just below and behind her ear, right and left.
Hell, I didn't know what I was doing, but I sure was enthusiastic!
"Oh Brad, are you glad to be here with me?" Her question put an end to our
passionate kissing.
At this point I had the nerve to say, "I'd rather you be all the way under the
sheets with me." "Just wait," was her reply. "And, Brad dear?--if you get up in
the middle of the night, remember to empty your bladder, and the mouthwash is
right on the sink." From then on I always tried to stay a little dehydrated
before sexual relations in order to avoid a semi-full bladder at the wrong time.
And I always remembered that Aunt Betty served me one glass of water and no tea
or coffee that night.
My stiff cock finally wilted and let me sleep.
The house was totally silent. I awakened, but it wasn't due to any discomfort.
The tabletop alarm clock read 2:30, but all my senses were alert as they had
been that night in front of the tv. Oh, God, she was actually under the sheet
with me, holding my left arm across her naked thighs! I reached higher, holding
her soft waist, with my arm grazing her pubic hair. I nuzzled her neck, then her
ear. She murmured a soft sound of pleasure. Then I remembered her last minute
instruction. "Please excuse me for a moment" I went to the bathroom for a splash
of mouthwash, didn't have to void because of my dehydration, and had the
presence of mind to shed my pyjamas on the way back to bed. I purposely left the
bathroom light on to illuminate Betty's opulent curves.
"Oh, it's wonderful being so close to you at last, Aunt Betty"
"Don't say anything now, Brad, just touch me."
She was on her back, one knee gracefully bent. I started where I had left off,
at the waist and hips and for the first time explored her breasts. I tore the
covers off us and straddled her waist, kneading her massive breasts, each of
which was almost two hand-fulls, then bending over to lick her nipples with
circular and back and forth motions. I was so aroused I felt like the top of my
head would blow off. Was this what high blood pressure felt like? Aunt Betty
squirmed with pleasure, cradled her boobs in her arms to keep them from sagging
against her sides and offered them to me. "Now suck on me hard, Brad!" With a
good will I set to the task until the pink areolas puckered and her nips stood
up a good half-inch.
The actual massiveness and roundness of her boobs in my hands surpassed all
imagination. Pushing them from the side in a rhythm set up fluid wave-like
motions. After about ten astonishingly exciting minutes fondling her boobs every
way, I knelt at her side and gently stroked the outermost portion of her pubic
bush, where it met the creamy white hairless thigh. A minute later, under Aunt
Betty's expert guidance, I stimulated her clit, watching her pull strongly
upwards on the skin just above the clit. I think what this accomplished was to
put the nerve endings on stretch and make the clit itself extra sensitive.
Learning quickly, I pulled the mons skin taut and tried different motions on her
clit, being guided by her audible murmurs and moans of pleasure. Later she told
me that she actually came after a couple of minutes of clitoral stroking, but I
kept it up much longer.
"Come closer, let me admire you, Brad. What a fine, strong-looking member
you have."
None of the furtive fumblings in the back seats of cars with teenage girlfriends
had prepared me for that kind of talk. She rubbed the glistening bead of pre-cum
over the head of my cock until I gasped with pleasure. I dared to hope she would
now take me in her mouth, and I pushed my cock toward her mouth. But she was as
always in control of the action. She grasped my shaft, which was about as stiff
as a birch dowel, and pulled gently backwards on the skin, stretching the nerve
endings on head and making it incredibly sensitive. Now she rubbed the
lubricated head and glans with a gentle rotary motion which drove me out of my
mind. "Ohh...oooh, YES, yesss, that's perfect, oooh, I've never felt anything
like that before."
"Now, Brad, settle down a bit and stroke me down there, as I showed you." She
stopped stimulating me and although I was ready to collapse with the intensity
of the pleasure, I mustered enough concentration to stroke the folds where her
thighs met the pubic bush, then gradually moving closer and closer to the
midline, where her inner pussy lips were swollen and protruding. I tried pulling
on the inner lips and elicited a few gasps of pleasure from Aunt Betty.
"Oh, dear Brad, my Brad, touch my clit NOW."
Aunt Betty was making slight rocking motions with her hips to help me out. I
tautened her skin just north of the clit, and moistened my fingertip with saliva
and touched her lightly right in the center. She pushed up against my finger,
and I backed off teasingly. She pushed her hips higher, seeking my finger, and I
gave her clit some nice rotating motions at medium pressure.
"Brad, come inside me NOW."
The moment of truth had arrived. It was actually my first time with a totally
naked woman in the privacy of a bedroom, and the thrill of that moment beggars
my powers of description. Aunt Betty was a snug fit for me, as her tight muscles
and prolonged engorgement made for a narrow entry, but the lubrication was
copious, and as I glided into her slowly, we groaned together with a pleasure
intensified by our abstinence from "self-abuse." I kept up a very slow rhythm at
first because I wanted to savor every moment and not come too quickly, but soon
Aunt Betty pressed me with a barely audible command "Deeper, deeper, faster now,
Brad, yes, yesss."
Then a minute later, "Are you close?"
"Yes." At this, Aunt Betty pushed my hips away, guided me down to lie
next to her.
"I was very close too, Brad, my sweet child. Let's relax a little, and you'll
see, the intensity will be much greater. Trust me."
I was so aroused I couldn't speak, and although my member remained fully erect,
my nervous system ebbed away from the brink of orgasm. I caressed Aunt Betty
starting at her muscular calves, up to the full smooth thighs, once more grazing
her pubic bush, then concentrating on those great rounded breasts, then her
neck. I stroked her slightly parted lips with a very light pressure that had the
effect of tickling.
"Oooh, that feels nice, where did you learn that?"
"Just thought of it, Aunt Betty"
After a few minutes, we went into a final cycle of mutually stroking each
others' genitals, until Aunt Betty commanded me to enter her. This time she
maneuvered us so that her head was half hanging off the edge of the bed away
from the wall.
"Brad, are your feet against the wall now?"
"Yes, Aunt Betty"
We were in the homestretch now, Aunt Betty's powerful legs were wrapped around
my back, and she signaled for a stepped up rhythm by digging into my upper arms
with her fingernails.
"Deeper. deeper, Oh Brad, oh my sweet lord, yes!"
Having my feet planted firmly against the wall gave me immensely effective
leverage for the final thrusts which brought on her gushing orgasm. Not thirty
seconds later my inarticulate gasps told her I was on the edge myself.
"Slower, Brad!"
She reached down and firmly grasped the base of my cock, holding it to arrest my
impending orgasm. I groaned from the excruciating discomfort.
"Trust me, Brad!"
Two seconds, three seconds, four seconds, holding back the tide while she
brought me off with her hip movements. Then she let go of my cock and the dammed-
up fluids gushed in a series of intense spasms which made me almost faint with
pleasure. "Pleasure" is too watery a word for what I experienced in those
unforgettable seconds. Since that night I have never been able to recapture that
sweet, painful intensity.
I pulled the flat sheet and blanket over Betty and me, placed a hand between her
thighs to catch the sticky juices (ours!) from her sheath, and we went to sleep.
******We slept until nearly noon. Sunlight filled Aunt Betty's bedroom. There
seemed to be no dry areas on the fitted sheet. Aunt Betty was sleeping on her
side, away from me. I eased out of bed and sneaked an admiring look at the
nicely rounded buttocks of my lover, my cousin, my aunt. Betty. Then I covered
her well. I felt protective and full of gratitude at the same time. Was this
romantic love? How could I know, not having any basis for comparison?
By the time I brought Aunt Betty's breakfast to her bed, she had already put on
her loose cotton nightgown. I bent over and gave her a big hug.
"Good morning, my sweet, sweet Betty."
"You are an adorable boy, Brad. Are you getting horny, again?"
"Why don't you open a few buttons on that nightgown, and you'll see."
"All in due course, Brad. I need to get freshened up a bit. The car keys are in
the usual spot, why don't you get us a newspaper and another quart of orange
juice, and then we'll go back to bed."
At the word "bed" I felt a stirring in my loins, not dissimilar to the
conditioned response of Pavlov's famous dog.
Back home. Aunt Betty was tidying up her little house, wearing a satiny
maroon robe with the waist-cord tied really tight, emphasizing the abundant
curves north and south. Her face looked a bit tired and puffy, showing her
age, but I quickly banished that thought. Lovers aren't supposed to notice
those things, are they?
"Brad, get yourself comfortable; I want you to admire me as if you're seeing me
for the first time." At her command, I lay on my back, head propped up on two
pillows, to get a good look at Betty. First she pulled a bottle of baby oil out
of a dresser drawer and set it down on the bed, next to me. She slowly untied
the waist cord of her robe; the silky robe made an an audible sigh as it slide
off her buxom body. It was actually the first time I had seen Betty standing in
the nude, up close, in full daylight. As she spread the mineral oil on her
shoulders and arms, her big, soft breasts jiggled with a fluid motion that
mesmerized me. As she continued to massage the oil into her skin, I observed
that the lower curve of each breast was close to her waist, but her deep pink
areolas were not sagging toward the floor, but were pointed right at me! This
perspective of "tits-from-below" is a major feature of breast fetish videos,
according to a porn photographer I met once in Los Angeles. Even with a fair
amount of sag, the preponderant mass of flesh is pointing toward the camera
lens, as Betty's abundant flesh was now quivering in my face.
Then she turned around and handed me the baby oil, so I could rub the oil into
her back and buttocks, and the back of her legs. My eager, oily fingers lingered
between her thighs, and pressed upwards against the valley between her outer
lips. In response, she pressed downward against the edge of my index finger, and
I kept up the pressure with some sliding motions. And couldn't resist kissing
her generously proportioned buttocks and nibbling on her soft flanks. I'm sure
Aunt Betty would not have qualified as a swim-suit calender model, but to me she
was just right. Abundant flesh has always been a metaphor for generosity and
warmth, more than a metaphor, really, more like an incarnation.
There is nothing special about precisely what we did next, back in the bed.
You've done it yourself, or seen it or read about it . All I wish to say is that
we did it with tremendous joie de vivre, and on that Sunday, and the many days
afterwards, we never held back from each other anything pleasurable or exciting
to the senses. Not that she stopped teasing me or stopped being unpredictable. I
learned to love her surprises more and more. I also learned to emulate Aunt
Betty's generosity as a lover, and her use of intelligence to figure out how to
maximize pleasure. The lessons I learned from Aunt Betty served well in all my
later years.
Real INCEST : http://www.incesttabooo.com/