It was a cool summer late Saturday afternoon in 1970, about a month after I'd passed my driving test, and we'd just completed a mixed doubles friendly tennis match. Aunt Ave and I had lost to my real cousin Graham and his friend Trudy. We'd played on the village court, which meant any showers or post game baths had to be taken at home.
"Close game" Graham called adding for my assurance "better luck next time with a younger partner eh."
I laughed and nodded, replying "Luck of the draw, but you two were very fortunate."
Neither he nor I made any mention of the delightful short pleated tennis skirt Aunt Ave had been wearing, and if Graham had had a brief but heart stopping view of the frilly knickers she'd worn underneath her tennis skirt, Aunt Ave and I would have won. The ladies joined us; Aunt Ave (Averill) asked if Trudy, Graham and I wanted too come back and freshen up at hers. Trudy and Graham both declined saying they were due back at her parents too go out for a meal. I on the other hand appreciated and accepted her offer; Aunt Ave had a strong hot shower and she no doubt had some superb apple pie awaiting some cream.
Aunt Averill was not really a relative, she was a close friend of the family and was a very athletic woman in her mid forties, she had permed brown hair, a matronly bosom and stocky thighs and a totally teasing nature towards me. Ever since becoming a teenager she'd used every opportunity to adjudge my growth and tell me how handsome I'd become, also teasing me over girlfriends and such. Whilst I was a spotty eighteen year old, I was blessed with a good knowledge on pleasuring girls through my long standing relationship with Susan Beales a healthy farmers daughter, with a very grown up attitude to the pleasures of the flesh. We'd both indulged reading and thoroughly practising techniques from the new publication the Joy of Sex together with a tattered copy of the Karma Sutra, but I was also a young gentleman, who was somewhat shy in the presence of my elders.
Graham and Trudy had brought Aunt Ave too the courts, so it was for me to take her back. I opened the door for her to slip into the passenger seat of my crock of a Mini, having taken her kitbag too store on the back seat. Aunt Ave shuffled onto the seat and her already knee high tennis skirt rode up too an appreciable level. We drove the short distance too her house with Aunt Ave encouraging me in my tennis, a few little pointers and that my forearm would improve, whilst I should try and practice my back hand. In fairness as a local school gym teacher she was giving me good advice. Then she was back teasing me about girls and if she were a young girl my age she'd be very pleased to be in my company, which made me blush. I was so used to it, and looked upon it as harmless teasing, till she stroked my flannels, just a little as she emphasised the word 'company'. When we got too hers she, went to open the door whilst I got our things. The drive had been empty, and it turned out 'Uncle' Dave her older and more refined husband was away on a golf weekend with some work buddies.
"I need a good dash of gin, too drown my sorrows", announced Aunt Ave "would you like a beer or gin or anything?"
"A cold beer and a warm shower, would be heavenly Aunty" I mumbled somewhat shyly.
"You know where the shower-room is dear" she urged "you can have a shower, and a beer." She stopped then added "You'll stop for a bite won't you dear boy, you'd not leave a poor Lady who'd lost a game, without a little comfort?" her eyes sparkled "Would you!"
"I'd love too stop for a bite" I stumbled out, more for the consideration of her fine cuisine than anything that might be on offer.
Then she did it, and my world and hers changed, not quickly or earth shatteringly, but enough to make the events of that evening imprinted on both our lives for a couple of years. She dropped the tennis ball from her hand, it thudded into the soft resplendent carpet and bounced thudding a wall to then drop and roll behind a chair. Aunty Ave had scurried after it and once by the chair she bent over to retrieve the dissident ball. I was treated to a panoramic view of her frilly panty clad bum, with all of its roundness and succulence. I don't think she'd given me this view deliberately; perhaps I was naïve, but she'd bent over similarly when we'd being playing earlier, no it was the fact that here my concentration was not distracted by winning the game. Instead I saw something of Aunty Ave that aroused me. Rising with the ball firmly in her hand Aunty Ave urged me to go and shower, saying she was going to bathe her aching joints and I could get a beer and watch some telly in the lounge, then she'd call me for a bite too eat.
I padded on the luxurious carpets down to the shower room, near the utility room of the house. I stripped and was enjoying the hot water beating against my body, the pressure dropped a little, and I new 'Aunty' was running her bath, thinking of her, and her round plump bottom, made me aroused. My shyness began to peel back, and I was getting a boner, so undertook a bit of manual relief with Aunty as the subject of my fantasy. This inevitably meant I was longer in the shower, but also made me think of her as a sexual equal for the very first time. Before then she'd been an older woman, which my young mind had never contemplated as being a possibility of convivial coitus with. I was just beginning to express my more devilish streak and having fantasised about this full woman, I felt a hormonal urge to do something about it. I was even tempted to sneak a look in her bedroom as she finished her bath. Instead I vowed to 'chat her up' sometime. I went to dress, and realised that I'd not intended to have a shower, and all I had with me was a loose tracksuit, no underpants and no change of clothes. I shrugged my shoulders and strolled into the kitchen.
Unfortunately there was no beer in the fridge, but I knew 'Uncle's' supply was in the shed and thus I was distracted for quite a while, bringing a back through to the house; as a regular visitor I knew where most things where and had enough sense to stock up as required. On my return to the kitchen Aunty Ave was stood there, her cheeks pink from her hot bath, she looked radiant and fresh. She had a light but full summer frock, which ended about mid calf, and buttoned down the front from her ample chest, which I was subsequently to establish as a 36D, it had wide straps and her shoulders were bare, showing a good tan. The frock looked good on her, and her waist looked trim, well she was an athletic woman even though she was of a stocky build, I also noticed she had chosen too wear hose, probably her own way of making herself feel dressed properly for a guest.
"Good boy David, you found the beer, I'll get a salad together sweetheart." With that she urged me to go and watch telly whilst she attacked the fridge with gusto.
Soon Aunty Ave called me to the kitchen where a simple salad was presented for consumption on the kitchen table, and with yet another beer and Aunty had a very large gin; we sat down to eat. We chatted, or rather Aunty chatted, mainly the inane gossip of the village and our respective families. The beer flowed and was beginning to liberate my senses. We'd finished our salads, and Aunty mentioned she'd some cold apple pie in the fridge; as she got up to clear my plate away, I unzipped my tracksuit top; I was somewhat hot, and had forgotten I had no t-shirt underneath. Back then, I had a firm chest for a youth, being a keen athlete, whilst I was not a man; I was not all skinny boy with jutting out ribs.
Aunty was standing beside me leaning over to pick up my plate, when she teased me saying "Stop flaunting your youthful naked flesh before me Dave". Then the matronly tone of her taunt rose "I can not understand how any young girl could not resist your charms."
