A Trip to Remember

CHAPTER ONE

I was eighteen years old in the summer of 1984. I had recently left school and now waited until university began in September. I'd be nineteen in just under two months and was looking forward to starting college, being away from home and making new friends. I hoped that moving away from home and meeting lots of new people would also mean I could meet girls. I was pretty shy around the fairer sex, feeling awkward and only having minimal experience back when I was fifteen. In other words, I was inexperienced with the opposite sex despite suffering from raging hormones.

My mother had planned a road trip to Ireland, her native homeland, and asked me to come along. I had nothing much better to do, having so far lazily enjoyed the weeks off after finishing school.

Why not?

I thought. I hadn't been over to Ireland for several years. I enjoyed the long drive from London, where we lived, to Wales to catch the ferry to Dublin and then drive down through the Irish countryside to visit various relatives.

I took a few driving lessons and was eager to drive on some remote Irish roads to get some practice in. The deciding factor was spending the final few days at my Aunt Nuala's. Nuala is a traditional Irish name; for those who are not Irish, it is pronounced Nu-la. Ever since I was young, I'd had a crush on her. I wasn't entirely sure why. Not that she wasn't attractive in a way that appealed to me. Nuala was raven-haired, elegant, soft-spoken, always dressed nicely and had an air of quiet refinement about her. I also think I was attracted to older women. This baffled the close friends I'd admitted this to over a few drinks at my local pub.

Seeing Aunt Nuala again would make the trip worthwhile, I thought, as a multitude of dirty daydreams about her ran through my mind. I don't know if this trait was something unique to me or was common to many teenage boys, but I'd often come up with all kinds of fantasies about her over the years. Being young, my hormones were rampant, and I enjoyed my dirty fantasies as I let my fertile imagination run amok. Of course, I knew these were just the erotic thoughts of a horny teenage boy. Regardless, I began to formulate a plan that would either land me in a whole lot of trouble or might end up fulfilling a recently acquired obsessive fantasy that kept plaguing my thoughts.

We reached the shores of Ireland on a warm August afternoon and drove through the lush green countryside, heading for our first visit to an uncle just outside Dublin. We'd spend a couple of days with my mother catching up with her brother and some old friends before moving on. This pattern repeated for the first few days, and it was indeed good to see relatives and places I hadn't seen for years.

In the hours spent in the car going from one place to another, my mind would return to my new idea, my dirty erotic fantasy, and I began to refine it, convincing myself I could do it.

What was this fantasy I had recently acquired? Well, a few months back, some friends and I had managed to get hold of a pornographic film. We sat around watching it in his living room, our breaths held as we saw all kinds of new and unusual erotic scenarios played out before us. I remember one scene in particular sparked something in me, something I had never even thought of before then. A young man had been caught masturbating by an older woman, and she then proceeded to watch him. I can't say why for sure, but seeing this triggered a sort of need in me. The more I thought about that scene, the more I wanted it to happen to me. Of course, I knew it never could ... could it? I would go from convincing myself I could somehow contrive to have it happen to believing there was no way in hell I could accomplish this, let alone have the courage to go through with it. Still, the powerful imagery was burnt into my hormonal brain and stuck with me.

There came a point where my brain combined my Aunt Nuala with this almost obsessive fantasy, and then I knew I was in trouble. I realised just how intensely erotic being caught masturbating by my aunt would be. I had always had a thing for older, more mature women, and being only eighteen at the time, I had weighed the risk of having her catch me and telling my mother against the delicious eroticism of being caught and nothing more being said.

I figured that at my age, and being that an aunt would catch me, it was now unlikely that my mother would be told. After all, it was natural and normal to masturbate, and although rather taboo in nature and, no doubt, a very sensitive and private issue, it would most likely be kept to the person doing the catching.

The allure for me was twofold. First, it was having an older woman, and one I knew, see me exposed like that, but perhaps even more interesting and thrilling was seeing how that person reacted. It would be fun, I thought, to find this out, given that I surmised they would not tell anyone else, or at least anyone else I knew of.

This new fantasy appealed greatly to me because of its simplicity. I could be caught, I could arrange that, but it would always seem like an accident. The other person would always come in on me, making the dynamic more interesting. I could always claim that I was doing it in private and that them walking in on me would be almost their fault.

Secondly, I would leave an indelible image of me masturbating in her mind, which would be a thrill to me knowing that. Yes, I was kinky, I knew.

I was drawn to the sort of women who gave off an air of easy elegance and were demure. My aunt was just such a woman, and the juxtaposition of this and having them confronted with a young nephew masturbating was compelling to me. How would she react? What would she think or say, especially given her sensibilities? I felt pretty safe. My aunt would keep very quiet about what she saw; therefore, only she and I would know. Letting the memory of what she'd seen come back into her mind each time she saw me filled me with naughty delight.

I also found it easier to justify my slightly weird fantasy of being caught by an aunt, given that neither my mother nor father had any sisters, so all my aunts weren't directly blood-related.

It was a gamble as to how my aunt would react, but I reminded myself that on a previous visit to her house, I came across an erotic novel on a bedside cabinet when asked to bring her handbag from her bedroom. I remember staring at the front cover, which showed a beautiful blonde woman dressed in black leather. The book's title had the number '69' in it, so I knew it would be pretty hot.

My aunt liked erotic novels—you really wouldn't think so if you looked at her. The novel I had found was also perhaps more relevant, given that we were in Ireland. It was 1984, and at a time of strict Catholic practices and views, such a book would be much more risqué than in England.

My aunt lived in a modern, spacious, four-bedroom semi-detached house that she kept spotless. Her two sons had now left to go to university, and her husband, Pat, was on the road Monday through Friday as a sales executive.

When we arrived on Sunday afternoon, her brother Pat greeted my mother. That evening, he took us out to a quaint pub, and we settled in comfortably. My Aunt Nuala was, as always, the perfect hostess. She had arranged for me to sleep in her youngest son's bedroom, known as the spare room, due to its small size. I didn't mind being in the smallest bedroom. It had a computer in it with a collection of games. I'd be set for something to do if I got permission to use it. My mother was given the larger guest room at the other end of the landing.

I decided to wait for a couple of days before springing my trap. The house would be empty, apart from my mother and aunt, as my uncle was on the road during the week on business and would not return until Friday evening.

As a teenage boy, I was horny all the time, but being away from home and wanting to build up my load, meant that I didn't touch myself until the day I would arrange to be caught. That way, I should be able to get and stay aroused quicker under the nervous pressure of what I was trying to accomplish.

But where would be the best place to get caught? The bathroom seemed the most obvious. The bedroom? I quickly dismissed that idea because it was just not right for me to be caught masturbating by my aunt in her son's bedroom. Nope, that would look even worse. I wanted to carefully minimise any negative connotations, so the bathroom was the place I chose.

But how? I had noticed a linen hamper in the corner of their bathroom, and noting how efficient my aunt was, I figured she'd collect laundry from there at some point. It was a gamble, and I'd much prefer it if my mother weren't in the house at the time.

However, there might be a possible answer by the third day. My aunt had arranged for a mutual friend and my mother to come over and take my mother out shopping. My Aunt Nuala would stay home to prepare the evening meal and catch up on chores while my mother and her friend were out. The idea was that they would return at a pre-determined time to enjoy an evening meal prepared by Nuala.

Well, it almost went without saying that as an eighteen-year-old young man, I was not expected to tag along with my mother and her friend while they tramped around all the shops at a newly built shopping centre a few miles outside town. So, that was the plan. Now, I only needed to see if my aunt would do some laundry.

CHAPTER TWO

The day of the shopping trip arrived, and knowing what I was planning made my palms sweat, raised my heart rate and put a knot in my stomach. I was nervous and a little scared but also intensely thrilled. There were times when I felt like backing out, just forgetting the whole thing, but a dark desire, no, a need, in me compelled me to hold my nerve. This was a huge risk, if my plan worked, that I was about to take. My aunt could be so outraged that she might complain to my mother. If that were to happen, I'd want to dig a deep hole and hide in it. However, I kept reminding myself that big risks often come with great rewards, too.

My mother and the friend, Molly, left for the shops, and a while later, my aunt roped me into pealing some potatoes for her as she began preparing the meal. Today, just like every other, my Aunt Nuala was dressed in her simple, elegant and feminine way. She reminded me of my primary school teachers with her long-sleeved, cream-coloured cotton blouse, delicate black leather belt that cinched a slender waist, a just below-the-knee length, light grey, pleated skirt and her ever-present black shoes with a smart heel.

I finished peeling and then watched as my aunt bent over to pull open the door to her washing machine. This was it; she was going to do laundry! I saw the lovely shape of her bottom as she bent forward. I could tell my aunt had quite long legs as she was on the slender side but fairly tall and willowy. She then crouched down onto her haunches to peer inside the drum and then began to turn the dials on the front of the machine. Her new position only made her skirt hug her hips and bottom more and exposed her smooth knees as the hem of her skirt rode up.

My heart began to thump; this was my chance. "Would you mind if I used the computer for a while?" In their spare room, their youngest son had a computer with a selection of games. Seeing as this room was at the far end of the hall from the bathroom, which was directly next to the top of the stairs, it was unlikely my aunt would walk back to check for me in the spare room before entering the bathroom to collect a load of washing. The thought of what I had planned made the knot in my stomach grow.

Nuala glanced over at me and nodded. "Sure. You know where everything is."

I took one more glance at her knees, long upper thighs and bottom, all brought into sharp relief by her crouched posture and made my way upstairs. Should I go straight to the bathroom? No! I'll put the computer on first and start a game going. I want to make it look as if what I'd been caught doing was an impulsive and, therefore, totally unplanned thing.

I trotted down the hall to the end, where the small spare room with the computer was. I selected the first game to hand, slotted it into the computer and switched it on. Fortunately, the computer used cartridges, and the game loaded instantly. I adjusted the volume of the TV to a low but faintly audible level and then made my way back to the bathroom.

The thrill of what might soon happen overcame my sweaty palms and pounding heart, causing a fast-growing bulge to start filling my jeans. From the kitchen below, I could hear my aunt moving around and the clatter of kitchenware. She was undoubtedly getting other pots and pans ready for the forthcoming meal.

I got into the bathroom, spotted the linen hamper near the door, and checked if it had laundry in it. It did. I closed the bathroom door, left it unlocked, lowered the toilet lid, and dropped my jeans and boxers down to my ankles. I sat down and noted my cock was rock-hard.

The bathroom was rectangular, about twelve by seven feet. The door was set in the long wall, near the corner opposite where the toilet, sink and bath were situated. As you entered, the linen hamper was in the corner, across from the door. This meant that when she opened the door, she would be confronted by me looking straight at her left side. There were no obstructions to what she would see, albeit from the corner of her left eye. Either way, I wouldn't go unnoticed.

I grabbed my rigid member and stroked it hard up to the head, trying to encourage it to look as long as possible. I hoped to stretch it out just a little if I could. I then ringed the base of my cock, using a forefinger and thumb and squeezed firmly, which made the head expand and look shiny. I wanted what I had to look as impressive as possible, so I kept repeating the two exercises until she came in ... well ... if she came in.

Planning to be caught, rather than it occurring spontaneously, was so intensely thrilling and nerve-wracking at the same time. My heart still pounded, and if nothing else, the increased blood flow appeared to engorge my cock, such that it felt as if it was going to pop like an overblown balloon. My knob took on a purple tinge and looked as if it had been polished. I realised it must have been a good five or six minutes, and my aunt hadn't come to collect the laundry. What was she doing? Had she changed her mind? Maybe she was not doing the laundry that filled the hamper at the far end of the room.

How long could I keep this posture of readiness going, I wondered. My cock was starting to feel a little sore with all the effort I'd put into making it look as big as possible. It wasn't very long, I knew sadly, not like some of those guys in that dirty film I'd seen a while back, but it was pretty thick, and my knob was like a bulbous mushroom. I gripped right at the base and looked at it, wondering if it would impress any woman. As I became lost in my appraisal of my erection held at its base and rising out from between my index finger and thumb, I heard the bathroom door handle squeak. My heart, already racing, skipped a beat, and I had to force myself not to cover up reflexively.

What happened next occurred in slow motion, probably due to the flow of adrenaline coursing through me. All my senses seemed heightened as I snapped my head up to focus on the door handle. I saw it complete its move downwards as it turned from the horizontal down to about forty-five degrees. My aunt had gripped the handle on the other side and had just turned it to come into the room. I watched, transfixed, unable to move as the time-dilated scene slowly played out before me.

I next saw my aunt's hand push the bathroom door handle away. The door swung open about halfway and began to close again. It must tend to swing shut, I thought, as the scene continued to unfold in apparent slow motion.

Next, a foot appeared, and the closing door was lightly pushed open again. Then I saw the large, circular laundry basket made of yellow plastic move into the room with a pair of hands on either side at the end of long, slender arms, followed by Nuala herself.

My heart pounded even harder.

Holy shit! This is it!

My rock-hard cock throbbed reflexively as I gripped its base firmly.

The scene continued in seemingly ever slower motion. For an instant, her whole body stood a few feet away from me in perfect profile while she focused on the linen hamper that stood before her. Nuala began to bend, lowering the empty basket in her hands to the floor, then froze in place, seemingly registering my presence and blinked. All of the above, from the initial squeak of the door handle to now, took fifteen seconds, but in truth, it must've all occurred in three or four.

Aunt Nuala's head cautiously turned toward me, no doubt to look directly at what had registered in the corner of her eye. Nuala was still frozen in a half bend, with her hands holding the empty basket at arm's length toward the floor, ready to put it down.

I just stared at her, gripping my erection.

Her eyes widened in shock. For a lingering moment, her face remained frozen before she dropped the basket, letting it clatter onto the floor. "Oh," Nuala yelped and slapped a hand over her now gaping mouth and straightened up as if receiving an electric shock.

Nuala's exclamation seemed to return time to normal speed. I opened my mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. She seemed rooted to the spot for a good second, staring wide-eyed with her hand over her mouth. My aunt dropped her hand and closed her still gaping mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled, shocked, and quickly backed out of the bathroom.

Her laundry basket had blocked the door from closing and lay wedged in the gap. Nuala then, very quickly, bent back into the room to retrieve the basket to allow the door to close. However, I noted with some satisfaction that as she grabbed the basket with both hands and began to pull it out of the bathroom, just before her head disappeared, my aunt stole a glance at me. "It's okay," I said reassuringly just before she closed the door.

I wanted her to know that it didn't bother me, even before she had time to process what had happened and react. By telling her it was okay, I hoped it reduced the need for awkward conversation in the immediate aftermath.

Now came the interesting part. How would she react? I could see my aunt had taken in everything she'd seen. It very much looked to me as if she'd taken another sly peek just before finally leaving. Initially, at least, it appeared to me that despite her shock, she still had another look, which I felt was quite telling.

I knew now that the image Nuala had seen would be imprinted on her brain and still vivid behind her eyelids when she shut them.

Good!

What to do now? Should I go straight downstairs and approach her, or leave everything unspoken, or wait a while? Perhaps I should just let her dictate what happens next. Yes, that's what I'll do, I concluded. That thirty seconds of thought saw my erection die. I pulled my boxers and jeans up, washed my hands, took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. I would play on the computer for an hour and stay calm.

I was shocked, stopping suddenly as I exited the bathroom to see Aunt Nuala leaning against the opposite wall with her arms folded and the laundry basket at her feet. I could see her face was crimson. I went to open my mouth to speak when my aunt cut me off. "I won't stand for that sort of thing going on under my roof," she said sternly, but a shade unconvincingly, I thought.

I just stood there, expressionless, my heart pounding once more.

"Why didn't you lock the door?" she demanded.