I want to tell you about "Aunt Helen" and the profound relationship that she and I shared. She is responsible for forming my sexuality and sensuality, the good parts and the bad.
I have been told, more than once, that my sensuality is more like that of a woman than of a man. I am convinced that Helen is the reason I am the way I am. Most of the time, I love her for it and am very grateful for her guidance. The only regret I have is that society often frowns on expressing deep-seated feelings when it comes to sex. Some background might help understand how profound an influence Helen had upon me.
Before she came into my sexual experience, the only significant event occurred when I learned about masturbation. Actually, just about all the other guys were already doing it when I was taught how. The very first time I tried it, I was hooked!
First, I marveled at how stroking my erection changed the look of my penis. Before starting my manual ministrations, it was pink and soft looking. As I stroked it, I noticed how it became redder, now with blue veins showing through my thin skin.
When I felt my first orgasm and ejaculated, I experienced the most intense pleasure, causing me to close my eyes and breathe deeply, even though the squirting ribbons of liquid scared me at first. Later I learned it was normal.
I "did" myself every day thereafter, indulging my desire up to a few times a day. My favorite time of day was my evening shower. I would lean against the wall, so that I could look down at what I was doing. I would marvel at how my erection would come on so quickly. I would pull and push my skin over my erection slowly, then faster and faster as I could feel the warm pleasure starting somewhere deep in my belly.
With my free hand, I would splash at the water to make it sound as though I was just washing myself. At that age, it usually did not take very long. When I felt the oncoming orgasm washing over my legs and body, I would squat down to aim my cum at the drain. In awe, I would watch it gush from my pee hole, in erratic spurts as the most delicious feeling would overtake me completely. By the time I finished my shower, I would often be ready to do it again, but only if I knew no one was waiting to use the bathroom. It was my routine over the ensuing years, until I discovered my "Aunt Helen".
She was married to a Navy cook. They were originally from New York. She had taught my mom when she was in nursing school, and my mom befriended her. Helen and her husband lived in a condo about a mile from our home. My parents had known them for a long time, and Helen was on the same bowling team with my mom. She was in her early-50's at the time
Neither of my parents drank, but Helen was always with her bottle of Vodka. In fact, she always kept a bottle or two at our house. She was a very large woman, heavy and big-boned. She had very large breasts and thick arms and legs. Though of average height, her overall heft gave her a squatty look. She was very fair skinned, although she was often flushed with the glow of liquor. She was Italian/German by descent.
She was talkative, almost loud, but behaved decently most of the time. Her brown hair was graying slightly. Her husband, Lou, was a burly guy, very loud and boisterous. He was out to sea quite often. When at home, he and Helen fought often, and he was quite abusive. When the two of them drank, it was not unusual for him to strike her during their incessant arguing. Once, during one of their fights, my dad had to literally throw Lou out the front door. After that, he never came around, although Helen was at our home almost daily.
One Friday night, after bowling, Helen returned home with my parents. My mom fixed snacks, while Helen sat in the kitchen with her bottle. Afterwards, the grownups sat around talking. Helen steadily sipped on her Vodka.
Around midnight, I heard my mom telling Helen that she should not drive, but should stay the night instead. Helen was staggering drunk, but insisted that she would feel better sleeping at her own home. She said Lou was out at sea, so she would be able to just go to bed.
I had just gotten my driver's license after my first year in college, and I eagerly accepted any excuse to drive my dad's car. So, when he asked me to drive Aunt Helen home, I jumped at the chance. My dad helped Helen to the car. He put her in the front seat, and off I drove.
Helen had her head back and was restless and moaning from the ill effects of too much booze. At her place, I opened her door. She was in no shape to walk unassisted, so I helped her. I had a hard time controlling her bulk as she stumbled, leaning on me for support, in the elevator and to her door. I took her keys and helped her in.
She went immediately to the bathroom and, even before reaching the toilet, started to throw up. Most of it found the bowl, but some hit the floor. I went to get some paper towels. When I returned, she was gone. I cleaned the floor and finished the job with a mop and Lysol. I finished the job, washed my hands, and was going to tell Helen that I was leaving.
In the hallway, I saw her bedroom light streaming through the open door. I called to her but got no answer. I walked toward the light. Just outside the door, I found her blouse, wet and soiled. I picked it up and walked it back to the bathroom. I put it in the sink.
I walked back down the dark hallway to the bedroom and entered into the light of the room. I was not at all prepared for what I saw. There, sprawled on the bed, was my Aunt Helen. She appeared to have passed out and was lying on her back, askew to the bed. Her arms were thrown above her head with her legs flayed open, with one foot still resting on the carpet. Her dark hair framed her now ashen face. She was completely naked!
I froze in my tracks, a jolt of shock causing my neck to go cold, totally unprepared for what I was seeing, and trying to comprehend my situation. My first instinct was to leave the danger of my predicament. (What if she awoke and found me there?) The feeling that I was doing something wrong ... being where I should not be ... invading her privacy ... caused me to think about running away. But, as I stared, I started to understand what I was seeing. I could see her belly rising and falling in deep sleep. I thought, "She's sleeping. She doesn't even know I am here."
I remained frozen in mid-step. My own breathing was becoming louder, and I fought to control myself. After a long time, just staring and drinking in every detail of her body, I slowly and softly moved closer to the bed. Now I could see everything. What a transformation. I had only thought of her as a large woman, with no physical beauty. But now, as she was naked before me, she was nothing but absolute beauty.
I could see her large breasts, pendulous and heavy, flattened against her chest. I clearly saw her dark and large areolae, the tiny bumps on her dark discs, and the protruding nipples centered on each one. (I thought about the pictures that one of the boys had stolen from his father's desk. The one showing the woman cradling her breasts, showing off her melons.) It was the picture that inspired so many bouts of my own masturbation.) But now, I was seeing it ... in the flesh.
This was the real thing! I marveled at how many wonderful curves, hills and valleys there were to her body. I drank it all in. I noticed how soft and smooth her skin looked, especially over her belly and across her slightly parted thighs.
In time, my attention was drawn to the raised mound of hair where her thighs met. It looked like a dark full bush, forming a perfect triangle, which started low on her belly and disappeared between her legs. At the very center of her hairy triangle, there was a slight parting of her hair. All I could see was a cleft where her flesh was visible. I moved closer.
I was now standing dangerously close to her, and staring directly at the mound between her legs. I tilted my head lower and could see below her hair, to the start of the crease between her buttocks. Her skin was so milky white and smooth there. I noticed how the crease disappeared into her hair, continuing, to become the outer edges of the lips of her sex place.
As the minutes passed, I began to calm down from my initial shock. My fear and feelings of guilt were fast being replaced by a new emotion. I could feel my erection growing with each passing moment. I had to shift my hardness, trapped in the tight confines of my trousers. As my fear subsided and my lust intensified, I started to become more bold. (Surely she would not even know that I was here. I wonder if she would know, or even remember, if I should ... TOUCH her?)
