Aunt Colette

It was the summer of '04.

My aunt and uncle from Palm Springs had visited my family in Western Massachusetts for the first time in many years. I was eighteen and horny, craving women of all shapes and sizes. That's right—just about any female creature with tits and a vagina seemed to be fair game.

Chitchatting in the kitchen on the evening in question were my mom and Aunt Colette—a French lady, with a sexy accent and a surprisingly athletic body, even for a woman of sixty. I was also in the kitchen but too distracted by the allure of my aunt to contribute to the conversation at hand.

Outside, my dad and Uncle Jacob, laughing at whatever, probably politics or religion, they drank wine by the pool, oblivious to the black bear watching them from a secluded spot in the forest that only I could see from my equally secluded spot in the kitchen.

"I have to go to the restroom," Colette announced suddenly.

My pulse quickened at the thought of my aunt sitting on the toilet, panties and shorts bunched around her knees. From the kitchen, I followed Aunt Colette to the downstairs bathroom and ducked into the family room as she shut the door to the restroom, to use her term, even though when I think of a "restroom," mental images of tiled walls and brightly lit toilets in restaurants or department stores come to mind.

I noted my aunt's failure to lock the bathroom door. I held my breath, hoping—no, praying—that my grandmother, who occupied the bedroom to the left of the bathroom, was fast asleep or, at the bare minimum, oblivious to the voyeuristic behavior of her grandson.

I stood six measly feet from the closed door. With a mental shrug, I tiptoed out of the den. The house was silent except for the distant hum of the washer and dryer. The sink in the bathroom sounded as my feet brought me to within an inch of the doorway.

I could hear my aunt moving noisily about the bathroom. She dried her hands and blew her nose. She fumbled with the toilet paper holder. Even sprayed a dash of perfume.

Was she about to take a dump?

Listening to my aunt as she unsnapped her purple-and-green plaid shorts, undid a zipper, lifted the lid of the toilet, lowered her shorts, and sat on the commode, my chest tightened and my heart pounded at the idea of what could—what would—happen next.

I wondered about her panties. Color, brand, and style. Moreover, had Aunt Colette bothered to put on a clean pair of underwear after her swim earlier in the day or had she opted not to wear a bra and panties under her clothes?

The lump in my trousers jumped suddenly. I felt nervous but not embarrassed as my cock hardened out of sight. I silently pleaded with my grandma to remain in her bedroom for just a few more minutes until my aunt had safely exited the bathroom.

It was the sound of a waterfall on the other side of the door that forced me to stay put in spite of the raging erection that by now had unashamedly threatened the elasticity of my underwear. I contemplated sprinting to my bedroom. Maybe let my erection subside in private. Maybe jerk off like a madman. But I couldn't move. What I wanted so badly was to barge in and surprise my aunt.

But what if she screamed? Even worse, what if she didn't scream—and let me watch? How would I explain the situation to my uncle?

"Have a safe trip home, Uncle Jacob. By the way, I watched your beautiful wife take a massive shit!"

Aunt Colette farted twice while she peed. I listened closely for a grunt or a subtle plop. But all I could make out was the hiss of a never-ending waterfall as my aunt showered the inside of the toilet with urine.

In my head, I pictured the forbidden sight of my aunt's mature pussy, her pink lips parted in the most glorious fashion, a strong stream of piss gushing forth and splashing her inner thighs, maybe even splashing the edge of the beige toilet seat. Oh, how I longed to touch Aunt Colette, to free my erection, to reveal my young cock. To cup my aunt's sex and feel every last drop of her sweet, golden nectar.

Through the closed door, I continued to listen. I heard my aunt tear off some toilet paper and wipe. Meanwhile, my erection throbbed with excitement, begging for freedom. Suddenly, the toilet swallowed its delicious contents as my aunt flushed. The sink sounded once again. And I raced upstairs without a backward glance, my cock harder than it had ever been in my life.