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Subject: Title story: "AUNT BETTY" Author: TABOO MAN 61756561
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Sat, 10 Dec 2005 22:59:55 +0000
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AUNT BETTY Part 2
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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.
End
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