Path: not-for-mail
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Title story: "AUNT BETTY" Author: INCESTOR 51860110
From: Incestor <familyincest@graffiti.net>
Lines: 321
Message-ID: <RcZMe.23565$VZ6.20024@fe03.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: Thu, 18 Aug 2005 10:15:13 +0000
===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/stories.html
AUNT BETTY PART 1
In the year 196x I was a shy but oversexed 18 year-old college freshman, and I
had just moved into my Aunt Betty's compact single family house in Southern
California. Actually, she isn't my aunt exactly, but my fatherÍs younger cousin,
but to me and my kid brother she was always Aunt Betty. I'll describe her in
just a bit, but first let me tell you how this situation arose. I got a full-
tuition scholarship at a "good" science and engineering university, but no help
with the room and board. We could barely afford transport to and from my native
Ohio, let alone a dorm room and meal plan. It was my father's idea to have me
rent a room with his 37 year-old cousin, whose much older husband had died a
couple of years before, leaving her with a small house and not a heck of a lot
else. Dad's plan was for me to do a host of chores around the house and pool and
yard in exchange for my room and board. Plus I think he wrote some checks to
Aunt Betty, otherwise the exchange would have been too uneven.
I had always remembered Aunt Betty as a chunky lady with delicate features, a
double chin, short dark hair and a sweet, low, soothing voice. The last time I
saw her, she actually baby-sat for me and my younger brother, when she was still
living in Ohio. I guess I was around 10 and she was almost 30, still unmarried.
When I arrived at her house on an unseasonably hot September day, with my old
suitcase and a big nylon duffle bag, I was in for a shock which literally took
my breath away. Aunt Betty waved me over to the modest-sized swimming pool,
where she was sitting and reading a novel. She had lost considerable weight, but
her short white terry-cloth robe revealed that she was phenomenally curvaceous.
I could scarcely tear my gaze away from her high, tan cleavage, slightly sweaty
from the sun. She had nice, slender ankles, too, although her thighs were a bit
plump. Aunt Betty jumped right up and, like a good hostess, showed me around my
new home. I tried very hard not to stare at her spectacular shape or to make
excessive eye contact, either. It was really tough, because Aunt Betty was
precisely the physical type I conjured up in my masturbatory fantasies: a
pretty, but not glamorous face, with understated makeup, and really voluptuous
form. I estimate she was about five-five or five-six tall and maybe 145 pounds,
distributed nicely all around. She must have traded in her thick glasses for
contact lenses. Instead of looking like a plain, dumpy woman who had shed a few
pounds, she gave me the impression of a stroke magazine centerfold who had
gotten pleasingly plump.
As the first weeks of the semester passed, I got into a routine of classes,
labs, study in the library until about 9, then a brisk walk home. I was too
tired to think about dating and girls. I noticed, too, that my aunt would also
come home late from her office job, rush through a salad-bar salad and quickly
turn in, quite fatigued. I gathered from our few conversations that the small
manufacturing business she was in was understaffed; hence the long hours, and
the lack of energy for a social life. As the weeks wore on, our respective
workloads got slightly heavier, not lighter, and we rarely ventured beyond the
confines of her house. Although our schedules did not allow us to take meals
together, we started watching the tv news together at the end of the day. Aunt
Betty always wore loose-fitting, modest clothing, but some times she sat close
enough so that our thighs touched with quite a bit of pressure, which alone was
enough to give me a semi-erection. At other times, without making any suggestive
remarks or looks, she leaned her head on my shoulders, as if she were nodding
off from fatigue. Sometimes I suspected she was not really sleeping on such
occasions, but was enjoying the closeness.
Week by week I was getting hornier and hornier, and I suspected that Aunt Betty
also was getting aroused by having me in close proximity. Although we spoke
freely on any number of subjects, I naturally hesitated to ask her about her
love life after widowhood.
Finally, around mid-October, things began to heat up. "Oh, Brad, would be a dear
and help me so I don't fall off the step stool?" She was rearranging some
crockery on a high shelf in the kitchen. Her cotton skirt was very short, and
her loose-fitting top didn't quite reach to the waist of the skirt, so I could
see a nice expanse of soft creamy flesh around her middle. It seemed logical to
support her at the waist, so I got to touch her bare skin, which thrilled me
intensely.
"A little tighter, Brad, I'd hate to have a fall."
"With pleasure, Aunt Betty" I said, as I gave her waist a gentle squeeze.Since
she didn't seem to be in any hurry to complete her chore, I held her bare waist
and leisurely admired her full, curved thighs.
Not long after that episode, out of the blue, she remarked, "I've been noticing
that you look at me...a bit...longingly, Brad. Is that possible, or is it my
imagination?"
I knew enough even then not to refer to my own loneliness and extreme horniness,
so I replied: "It's just that you're a hell of an attractive woman, Aunt Betty."
"I hope I'm not sounding too forward."
"Brad, I promised your Dad I'd look after you, but I'm sure he didn't mean that
way." She laughed, a deep, throaty, sexy laugh.
From then on she would favor me with glimpses of her lush curves, but they were
glimpses only, which inflamed my interest in her to an incestuous obsession.
Finally, she broke the ice, and in response to one of my longing looks, put a
hand on my shoulder, and asked, "You do find me attractive, don't you?...as a
woman...really, now, Brad."
"Aunt Betty, if only you knew how much you affect me, there wouldn't be any
doubt in your mind at all."
"How do I affect you, Brad," she asked, her hand still on my shoulder.
"I know it isn't what's supposed to happen, but being close to you arouses me
powerfully...there, I've said it. It had to be said." At this, I covered her
hand with my own and dared to give it a little squeeze. My heart was racing.
"We musn't touch-ever," she said, as she withdrew her hand from mine. "But,
Lord help me, I need to feel attractive again....you'd really like to see my
naked body wouldn't you ,Brad? Even though it would make your father very
angry?"I think she mentioned my father because she wanted to emphasize the
incestuous aspect of our situation. To her I think it added a definite extra
measure of spice. With her shape, I would have died for her had she been a
perfect stranger.
"Yes I really, really would, Aunt Betty."
"If you're a good boy, Brad, and show me an "A" exam paper, I might just let you
have a look, but only under certain conditions."
"Any conditions you say, Aunt Betty!" I could barely get the words out, my mouth
was suddenly so dry.
Needless to say I buckled down even harder on my courses. In those days, in
competitive colleges, the profs didn't hand out A's just for showing up for all
the classes. And in the engineering courses I took that year, a B-plus was
considered a really desirable grade.
When I got a solid "A"in a tough American History mid-term, I was thrilled
beyond belief, for more reasons than one! On the way home, I spent the last of
my weekly cash on half a dozen roses for my aunt, to underline my devotion and
affection. I tidied up the kitchen extra well, and left the precious "A" exam
booklet on the corner of the table, with the flowers. I was half aroused for
what seemed like hours.
"Oh you're a dear, Brad, I love roses" said Aunt Betty effusively. "And I
promised your Dad I'd make sure you buckled down to study hard, so now I can
tell him you're getting an "A" in History. She made no mention of her promise to
me, and I was naturally hesitant to push her.
She made no further mention of the exam grade, sat well apart from me while
watching the tv news. I was crushed and highly strung out with sexual tension.
When she headed for her room I gathered up all my courage and somehow mentioned
that I had had a "special reason" to show her the "A" paper.
"Oh, Brad, dear, can you ever forgive me, I'm just so tired tonight, I just
can't do justice to your History "A" and those lovely roses! But tomorrow, I
promise to make it up to you. Will you think about me tonight and tomorrow?"
"Aunt Betty, you know I won't think of anything else!"
The next night was Saturday night. True to my parting word to Aunt Betty, I
could think of nothing all day but her promise. And her bod. To keep a semblance
of sanity, I walked for two hours along the bland, palm-shaded streets of the
nondescript California suburb.
Saturday, night, bedtime. Betty wearing her usual loose printed dress for the
late news. Her hair freshly brushed, a new perfume, a bit deeper lipstick shade
than usual. In accordance with Aunt Betty's explicit instructions, I stood in
the passageway, five feet from her bedroom door, which on this special night was
wide open. With the electric lights out, she set a lighted candle down on her
bedside table and stood facing me so the candlelight shone from her left side. I
was not to utter a sound, nor touch myself 'down there'. She slowly unbuttoned
her dress from top to bottom, and let it drop to the floor. Tonight she had
omitted wearing a bra, so I could see everything not covered by her low-cut
satiny white briefs. Aunt Betty's thighs glistened full, smooth and beautifully
curved. Her belly, partly encased by the panties, was also somewhat full, but
completely smooth, with a deep navel. Her Earth-Mother bosom covered almost all
of the front of her ribcage. The deep shadows cast by the lone candle
accentuated her incredibly lush curves, exciting me beyond endurance. Still, it
was too dark to discern many details, so even afterwards, her body retained an
aura of mystery. After standing still as a statue for a minute or so, she
gracefully turned to face directly away from me, toward a mirror over the
dresser. And as she brushed her hair, her bent, raised arms allowed me to see
the side curves of both breasts at the same time, an astonishing sight. Then she
turned to the side and blew out the candle. I could hear the faint rustle as she
slipped under the covers.
I felt as if steam from my superheated blood would blow out of my ears from the
excitement, from the two or three minutes of forbidden intimacy. No way I could
have fallen asleep after that, except by masturbating to the candle-lit images I
had just witnessed.
**********
Sunday morning, I awakened with a hard-on which would not go away. I forced
myself out of bed, shaved and then walked almost two miles to get Aunt Betty's
favorite newspaper. She made me leave the paper outside her bedroom door, now
closed. We shared breakfast, but she seemed slightly distant and made no mention
of the incredible events of the night before...
Imagine this if you will. The living room is in nearly total darkness, the house
is silent in the wee hours. My aunt had rushed to the tv set fresh from her bath
around eleven and helped me to finish a half-bottle of Italian red; we fell
asleep on the living room sofa. She is sleeping-I think- nearly upright, the
bottom two-thirds of her robe completely open! My face is buried against her
shoulder, somehow my bare arm is resting on her lap, hand curled around her soft
flank, the middle of my forearm in contact with-could it be actually-her pubic
bush! I dare not even breath aloud for fear of startling her out of her sleep. I
know that if she awakes, she will break off this forbidden contact. The thought
of touching the gateway to her intimate parts excites me to the very core and I
start to shake with tension. Although it is too dark to see, I try to imagine
Aunt Betty in my minds eye totally naked from the waist down, as she is in fact.
My erection threatens to burst the fabric of my pyjamas.
I cannot tear myself away although nothing can come of this, tonight at any
rate. Her regular breathing tells me she is truly asleep, her falling asleep
with the robe open an accident. After what seems like two hours I gradually draw
away from contact, close her robe and cover her with a blanket from her bedroom.
My balls ache from the prolonged congestion, it's almost impossible to sleep
without stroking my member but somehow I muster the self-discipline to hold off,
in anticipation of a breakthrough in the next few days.
That was on the Saturday night of a three-day weekend. What happened the very
next night was ten times as exciting.
"Brad, dear, I think it's time we had a little talk; could you get us a couple
of beers from the fridge?"
"Sure, Aunt Betty." We settled down on the living room sofa. After downing half
the can, she took my hand and placed it firmly on her mid-thigh, holding it
there for emphasis. Were things going to get steamy at last?
"Look, Brad, it's time for a little honesty and openness around here. I'll
just bet you've been wondering about my love life-or lack of it." Here I
nodded assent.
"I had two brief flings about four-five months after your Uncle Woody passed on,
with guys who sell stuff to my company, but frankly they treated me like dirt.
And for me that's worse than being lonely-or horny. I'm just not about to go
looking around for a man now or probably any time soon...but I have needs...I
was thinking you and I...oh, hell! Get me another beer, will you?"
"Anything for my favorite aunt!" was my attempt to be lighthearted, but I was
getting all of a sudden very tense as I sensed the direction we were headed for.
"Brad, I remember every flattering thing you ever said about me, and all those
looks you've been giving me...and I don't think you'd ever treat me like dirt."
"Of course not, Aunt Betty." I placed my hand back on her thigh, but higher up.
She responded by covering my hand with her own.
"A nice-looking broad-shouldered young fella like you, not going out with girls,
I couldn't help wondering...hoping, you know...that had something to do with
your feelings about me." At this I almost was tempted to answer by taking her in
my arms and kissing her, but I was still a little shy. Instead I meekly nodded,
avoiding eye contact.
"The time is ripe for us to see how we respond to each other, as equal adults,
Brad. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Brad."
"Oh God, yes, YES!"
"It has to done just right, making sure that neither one of us is disappointed,
and that it's what we both truly are ready for."
"Uh, what are you driving at, Aunt Betty?"
"I mean, Brad, that I'm sure you masturbate, if you're like all other young men,
and that it's got to stop right now, so you can give ME your all. And I'll stop,
too, as of this moment."I tried not to look shocked, but this was back in the
1960s, when we didn't talk much about masturbation and boys were totally
ignorant on the subject of female masturbation.
******The air was warm for November, even for a Southern California autumn. A
thin crescent moon hung in the night sky. As instructed by Betty, I heated up
her small pool and hung a bunch of towels on a lattice-work fence to secure our
privacy from the eyes of neighbors. I got into the pool and faced away from the
house. Aunt Betty liked to give surprises. After a few agonizingly slow
minutes, I heard her slip into the water behind me. With pent-up passion she
hugged me from the back, rubbing and then pinching my nipples. No high-school
girlfriend had ever done anything like that! She nuzzled my neck and shoulder,
and then squeezed my nipples 'til they hurt. As previously instructed I stood
still and straight.
"Now, Brad, turn around and look at me." She was wearing a one-piece swimsuit
which concealed only the lower 60% of her full bosom. I gasped at her awesome
cleavage; somehow the effect was all the greater as I had to strain my eyesight
to the utmost in the scanty moonlight.
"Now let's move to the deeper part of the pool, I want to show you something." I
willingly obeyed.
"How long can you hold your breath under water, Brad?"
"Don't know, Aunt Betty." Not even at a moment like this was I permitted to call
her simply by her first name.
"You'd like me to drop the top of my swimsuit, wouldn't you, you sweet boy?" I
nodded vigorously. "Well, you can see my breasts as long as you can hold your
breath under water...starting...now!"I took two or three deep breaths and
dropped under the surface. There, not two feet away was a sight to behold. No
doubt Aunt Betty was a natural DD-cupper, and although her boobs probably sagged
quite a bit under their weight in air, under water they seemed to float and
sway, weightless yet undeniably massive in their shadowed roundness. She placed
her hands on her hips, arched her back and twisted back and forth to accentuate
the wonderful jiggling motions. I tried to memorize the sight of those great
round masses of tit-flesh until my eyes stung fiercely from the pool chemicals.
I passionately wanted to hold Aunt Betty's breasts and suck on them, and would
have died happily for one minute of such unimagined pleasure. What did happen is
that, my lungs bursting, I surfaced, and mumbled, between gasps of air:
"Incredible, Aunt Betty...you are just so sexy and beautiful...I just...have
never seen anything like that...anywhere(what I meant was, in stroke magazines)
"Oh you dear, lovely boy, give us a kiss," she said, as she bent forward,
tilted her head toward me and kissed me deeply, so our teeth ground together
for an instant.
"Now I'm sure, dear Brad, of my feelings, but tonight is not the right
night...don't ask...turn around right now, Brad."As ever I obeyed her instantly,
shaking with passion and disappointment at the same time. I heard her climb out
of the pool and disappear behind me into the house.
I lay down on the poolside lounger in confusion until the air turned colder and
caused a shivering fit. Back in the house, Aunt Betty's bedroom door was closed.
The house was silent. I felt almost sure she was as drawn to me as I to her, and
that we would soon consummate our incest, but maybe she enjoyed teasing
me...maybe it would never happen. With the greatest difficulty, I remembered my
promise to avoid masturbation completely. I read myself to sleep with a
materials science textbook.
The largest collection of adult stories on the NET
http://www.incesttabooo.com/stories.html