It was my final year at college, and examinations complete, I was looking forward to the summer break.
My parents had booked a week away in France; with the house to myself I was already arranging my social calendar when they dropped a little grenade, which shattered all my plans. I was apparently not old enough to be trusted alone and I was to be sent to my uncle and aunt's. farm in the country. Despite my protestations, they were adamant, and I was duly despatched the next day.
I had not seen Uncle Eric and Aunt Margaret for about ten years, they weren't blood relatives as such, but old friends of my parents who had, I guess, adopted me as their nephew. Visits in the past had always been enjoyable. As a small boy the outdoor life had been exciting, working with the animals, harvesting, and farmyard chores had all been eagerly and happily undertaken. However, ten years on, full of teenage libido and raging testosterone, I was more interested exploring another side of nature!
I was met at the local station by my Uncle, who drove me up to the farm, which was about fifteen miles away from the town and any sort of female company. Coming down on the train I had ambitions of meeting some of the resident 'talent' but without transport that seemed highly unlikely. My only 'relaxation' would have to be my collection of erotic magazines stowed away in my suitcase. When I think about it , my magazines had been my only outlet since reaching puberty, so actually why I was expecting or even planning any other form of recreation was actually very ambitious and in fact highly improbable, but hey a boy can dream!
Aunt Margaret met us at the entrance to the farm; she was in her late fifties, a plump, healthy, fresh looking woman, tanned from working outside, her figure masked by baggy work clothes. She gave me a tight hug and commented on my size and grown up appearance and how I had developed into a fine looking boy. I flushed not only from the compliment but also from the stirring in my pants. Gee it must be bad if an embrace from and elderly aunt can cause such a reaction. I needed some relief, and quickly.
Unpacked and fulfilled, with my magazines carefully hidden, we had an enjoyable dinner and sociable evening, catching up on family developments and reminiscing about old times. Aunt Margaret fussed me at every opportunity and her tactile nature lead to a great deal of touching and squeezing, which I have to say, was gratefully received and reciprocated in a ' nephew and aunt' way rather than lustful, but I did detect a little sexual tension in the atmosphere or was that a young boy's imagination?
Half way into my stay Uncle Eric announced he was going to the county fair to look at new livestock. He would be away for a couple of nights and proposed to take me with him. Margaret, however, was obdurate that her 'little soldier' should stay with her and help her on the farm. Not wishing to cross his wife and probably quite relieved that he didn't have his teenage chaperone, Eric was taken into town by Margaret to catch the train. Margaret had said she needed a few provisions and had left me to work clearing the stables. She said she would be back for tea and that I should wash and shower after completing my tasks.
I was in the bathroom when she returned, so I just slipped on my PJ's, and went down to the kitchen. The first thing that hit me was a strong almost overpowering smell of perfume; the next was my Aunt's appearance.
She had obviously been to the hairdressers as her hair had been let down from her usual tight clips and tossed and curled around her face, there was just enough make up applied, a hint of blusher and a lustrous red lipstick. She had on a skirt and blouse instead of her jumpers and jeans. The blouse was white, crisp and frilly but more importantly stretched tight across her breasts. I had felt the swell of her bosoms before but never quite imagined how they would appear unleashed from her overalls. They were tremendous, her top buttons straining to hold them in and showing just enough brassiere to keep her decent rather than tarty.
Her black skirt was pencil line with a split of about twelve inches, showing a little knee and thigh. The outfit was complimented by black tights or stockings (I WISHED) and high court shoes, which took away the chunkiness and thickness of her legs and ankles.
'Wow Aunty' I stammered 'you look great'
'Well I thought I would make an effort for my new man about the house, bet you think the old girl shouldn't have bothered?'
No way did I think that, she looked so sexy and my wayward cock was now in complete control of all my senses.
Tea was a wave of sensuality, Margaret was leaning over and touching at every opportunity and she was so much more than an attentive waitress. She had unbuttoned her blouse and was now showing an improper amount of cleavage, she must have been aware that I was continually looking down her blouse but I was too shy and inexperienced to make a move. So I sat there blushing and expressing polite platitudes.
We washed up together and thankfully moved to the lounge were I could attempt to hide my 'little embarrassment'. So I sat opposite clutching a cushion to my lap. I wouldn't need my books tonight; the only person I would be wanking over would be Aunt Margaret.
'Let's have a little drink' Margaret said. 'Uncle Eric is away and what he doesn't know won't hurt him' she gave me a wink and slipped off to make some drinks.
When she came back, another button was undone, or was it? Was I just imagining this and misreading all the signs. This woman, my surrogate aunt was nearly forty years my senior, my parents trusted friend surly she was not trying to seduce me?
She passed me a drink and sat down opposite me. Perched on one knee her skirt had opened across her thighs and I could see the top of her stockings and the inside of her sheer black lacy underwear. I was beginning to loose control and thought the best way of avoiding any humiliation was to offer my excuses and beat a hasty retreat to the sanctuary of my bedroom. I gulped my drink nervously, but only succeeded in nearly choking.
Aunty came to my rescue; jumping of the chair in a swell of lace and flesh she patted my back vigorously. 'My poor little soldier, has your naughty old Aunty given you too much?'
I spluttered my apologies, but Aunty just continued patting and rubbing my shoulders whilst 'cooing' contentedly.
She was so close, I could feel her 'tits', for that's what they had become, not bosoms or breasts, but huge enveloping 'tits'. Her hands were kneading into by back, pressing, feeling almost groping and her breathing heavier and quicker. Still I sat there motionless not daring to respond though every bone in my body wanted to react.
She then suddenly stopped, and almost apologetically walked back to the table and picked up my unfinished drink. ' I am so sorry Eric always says I am too heavy-handed with the booze, your not used to it, I will have to dilute it for you'
With that Margaret sashayed across and lent in front of me. Her tits were virtually out of her blouse and her skirt ruffled across her thighs. She took a large mouthful of the spirit and held it between her lips. She placed two fingers in my mouth and gently held it open. Once my lips had separated she placed her mouth across my face and pushed the hot liquid into my mouth with her tongue. I didn't need any more encouragement, I met her tongue with mine and we fastened together in an almost violent embrace. To this day I have never been kissed so long and hard as that night.
I didn't want the moment to end, but Aunty had other ideas. She was now as rampant and wanton as I was. She stood in front of me and almost tore her top away from her tits, the bra followed quickly. Her nipples were large and brown, standing proud waiting to be sucked, licked and bitten. I made an amateurish grab for them, but Aunty moved away smiling dissolutely, she was now in control and loving every minute, ' Slow down my little soldier' she said ' You are going to have all of me tonight, and I mean ALL of me'.
Aunt Margaret stepped out of her skirt, leaving her naked except for her stockings and shoes. (She had removed her panties when she was standing behind me). Her bush had been trimmed neatly and her pussy was pink and inflamed. Her body although ample, with all the work on the farm was toned and firm, her tits hung slightly above a rounded stomach, and the tops of her thighs spilled over her stocking tops. But this was a real, mature woman, exposing her womanliness, and waiting to initiate her willing pupil into the ecstasy of pure sex.
