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Subject: "AUNT BETTY" (2/3) {mF, inc} 29571
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Date: Tue, 20 May 2008 06:55:33 +0000
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/taboo.html
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.
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