Aunt Anne and Her Friends

Many thanks for the feedback, it is much appreciated and gratifying.

This is nearly the final chapter before we all get bored with the characters and scenarios. Maybe the final chapter will see a reunion of the friends.

For now, though, it seems good for James and Aunt Anne to enjoy some more quality time on their own, with an additional element in their imaginations...

*****

I wish I could say that Aunt Anne and I had sex several times that night. But I can't. To be fair though, neither of us had had much sleep the previous night, and the intense but ambivalent emotions that had enveloped us after having sex in her bed just hours ago probably added to our blissful fatigue.

I awoke gradually, conscious of a woman beside me. I was almost surprised to see that it was my dad's sister. Her body, clad in her ivory nightdress, was the proof I almost needed to reassure me that the events of the past thirty-six hours were real and not a dream.

MY DAD'S SISTER!

Again the forbidden nature of my consummated desire swept over me, and again I felt physical pangs of guilt and depravity. But as I ran my gaze over her, that desire for her was reaffirmed, and the taboo that we had broken beckoned to be broken once more.

It was a Sunday morning in July. The sun was shining outside and although the curtains were not too thin, they allowed the sunlight to bathe my aunt's bedroom. It lent a soft, warm glow to her pale skin and mellowed the ivory hue of her nightdress.

As far as I was aware, Aunt Anne had not been in a serious relationship for three or four years, and her possession of a double bed intrigued me. In view of her interest in swinging I wondered whether this bed had played host to sex partners rather than lovers. The thought revolted me yet thrilled me at one and the same time.

That nightdress! How strange it seemed that a garment that was not even particularly provocative was the root of all my shame. Maybe the circumstances when I had first seen her in it (my aunt had come downstairs and caught me with my hand in my trousers as I watched a porn movie) had something to do with it. But mostly it was the way that for the first time I had been aware of the size and shape of her breasts, whose smallness she usually tried to mask with loosely fitting garments.

Until then I had found little appeal in small breasts, preferring B-cup at least. But seeing Aunt Anne's under her nightdress -- THAT nightdress -- had changed things. There was something very appealing about her little breasts -- the size, the shape, the high-mountedness and relative pertness.

That nightdress, too, had shimmered and moved alluringly. It had shown off her bum beautifully, half showing and half suggesting its lovely contours. It had kindled my desire for my aunt. It was at one and the same time the root of my shame and my bliss!

I cast my mind back over the previous hours. It hardly seemed real. My horizons had been well and truly broadened. The "party" to which my aunt had taken me had turned out to be a swingers' party.

Apart from me, all the others had been in their forties. I had long fantasised about sex with an older woman, and Lucy, my host had fulfilled it -- or rather, exceeded it. Not only had I had sex with her, she had initiated me into giving anal sex.

Moreover, I had done so while my aunt was having sex with Jack, one of their friends, in the adjoining room. I had in fact even been persuaded by Lucy to spy on them while they had foreplay. And there, I had seen, for the first time, a sight that had captivated me and that I would never forget -- my aunt's naked little breasts and puffy, cone-like nipples. They had no distinct flattened areola from which the rubbery tip arose; the whole nipple merged with her breast, a pink cone that tipped it.

And, as Lucy and I and Jack and my aunt were having sex upstairs, Lucy's husband Bill and Jack's busty partner, Caroline, were doing the same downstairs.

Later I had joined up with Caroline and her partner Jack. My fantasy of a threesome would really be for myself to partner two females. However it had been quite something to join Jack in pleasuring, and being pleasured by, his busty, common-law wife.

But again and again even as I did so my thoughts had turned to Aunt Anne. The brief but intense images of her to which I had been treated through the spy holes in the wall had fuelled my lust for her. And even as I thrilled in Caroline's ripe, ample breasts, images of my aunt's little one, tipped by her big puffy nipples, had flitted through my mind.

Now as I gazed upon Aunt Anne's serene, sleeping face, I thought back to the early hours of the night we had spent at the party. I recalled my stealthy journey downstairs led by the hand of the naked Lucy. I had assumed that Lucy and I were to have a secret rendezvous as we had crept softly to the lounge, but there to my shock I had found Aunt Anne, completely naked save for a bedsheet wrapped around her midriff.

And the nightdress -- THE nightdress! -- had been lying crumpled and discarded on the floor. Then, disturbingly yet deliciously, I had taken kissed, caressed and explored her while Lucy egged me on. Then, as I followed her cue, Lucy had pulled up a stool and masturbated to our illicit consummation It was little wonder that I found it hard to believe it had all happened.

Then the following morning, the previous one to this, having slept beside my naked aunt for what remained of the night I had watched her slide the nightdress over her statuesque body and veil it once more. This satin garment had almost become a potent symbol for my newly kindled and consummated desire. And Lucy had given me the relief I had desperately needed.

____________________

But now I was hard again. Aunt Anne whimpered in her sleep and rolled over with her back to me.

I wanted her, and needed her, and with a surge of arousal I knew that, notwithstanding last night's role-play, she would welcome my advances.

I gently lifted the bedsheet and ran my gaze over my satin-clad aunt. The deep V-cut in the back of the nightdress was made of fine mesh, which itself was embellished with swirled patterns. Aunt Anne's arms were well toned and pale, and the straps of her nightdress were flimsy. They were fashioned with a little ring and adjustable buckle like those of a bra.

I watched the sensual rise and fall of her shoulders and listened to her soft breathing. My erection gave a little twitch. The sensuality derived, I suppose, from her being asleep and oblivious to my hungry gaze.

I became conscious of other sounds. At some point in the night my aunt must have opened the window slightly. I could hear the intermittent sound of traffic on the main road a hundred and fifty yards or so away. There wasn't much traffic, though. It was just turned eight o'clock and it was Sunday morning. A few birds were chirping and a dog barked from a garden a few doors away.

I lightly kissed the soft, warm skin of my aunt's shoulder, and planted gentle kisses on her shoulder blade. I ran her dishevelled, straw-coloured hair through my fingers, savouring its softness. I brushed my lips over the mesh trim of the back of her nightdress. It felt slightly scratchy. I placed my hand on her waist, thrilling in the warm slipperiness of the satin and in her lightly yielding body through it.

Aunt Anne stirred with a low murmur. She craned her neck and smiled over her shoulder at me. Her arm snaked round and I felt her hand caress my naked buttock. She snuggled back against me, resting her backside against my erection. The feel of her satin nightdress against me was very alluring.

She drew up her knees a little and I moulded myself against her spoon-like posture. I ran my hand along her side to her hip and her flank. She was fairly slender and her body was quite firm but soft enough to be womanly. I loved the feel of her nightdress.

Her hand stroked my bare outer thigh and bum cheek. Her touch was light and arousing. I groaned and kissed her hair and the back of her neck. She wiggled her backside, gently pressing it against my hardness then pulling away again.

I slid my hand from her waist to her flattish stomach, still relishing the warm silkiness of her nightdress under my fingers. My thumb brushed the little mound that was her left breast. I cupped it and kneaded its firm form.

Through the window from next door's garden came the subdued but slightly agitated voices of a man and a woman. Aunt Anne had briefly introduced me to them earlier that week. They were in their late sixties. The wife, Liz, said, a little harshly and scathingly that "OF COURSE" it was too early in the day to cut the lawn. A few moments later I heard what sounded to be like digging or hoeing.

Aunt Anne rolled onto her back and we kissed. She clasped my hand harder over her little breast and I squeezed it and played with her nipple. A shudder of delight ran through me. There could hardly be a greater contrast between the respectable Sunday morning suburbia outside Aunt Anne's bedroom window and the illicitness of what was transpiring inside as aunt and nephew savoured each other's bodies for the third time in twenty four hours. A sense of defiant satisfaction fed my desire.

I traced my hand all over my aunt's nightdress, that symbol of my newly found shame and delight. I slid my fingertips lightly over her body in wandering courses. I ran the palm of my hand over her, sometimes lightly, sometimes with a little more pressure. Although there was no real risk of being overheard, the presence of neighbours potentially within earshot was very squishy, the more so because I had met them and could picture their faces.

Aunt Anne must have been conscious of her neighbour doing his gardening, too, because she reduced her voice to a whisper as she told me how nice this or that felt. At the same time she caressed me with her lithe fingers.

I confined my caresses to my aunt's bare arms, and to her satin-clad sides, belly and the fronts of her lower thighs, eager to explore, to please, and to take my time. As we had done on this very bed the previous night, we kissed. Slowly and teasingly, then more intensely. After several minutes of fondling her non-erogenous zones I spiralled my hand slowly around each of her small breasts, sweeping my hand away as it neared her puffy nipples.

They were pressing against her nightdress and I gazed at their outline, content for now to recall and imagine their cone-like form and their pinkness.

Aunt Anne gasped softly and I whispered how gorgeous she was and how the feel of her body excited me. We kissed again, slowly and ardently, first with our mouths and then with our tongues, and exchanged stifled moans and grunts and soft sighs of forbidden delight.

It was more akin to love-making than to sex. The only missing element -- and we both knew that it must remain so -- was the expression and exchange of fond endearments and declarations of love.

I stroked the soft skin of her shoulders and fingered the strap of her nightdress. Then I slid it off her shoulder and part way down her upper arm in order to free my prize.

For a moment or two I gazed, entranced once more, by the sight of her little orb and the rounded pink tip that was her nipple. Aunt Anne reached up and caressed the back of my neck. A tingle of pleasure ran through me, and I gazed into her eyes. Her expression was tender yet eager.

Her fingers pressed harder on my neck, guiding my eager mouth to her bare breast. It was reassuring and gratifying that she wanted me as badly as I needed her. My lips met her nipple and I nuzzled it.

"Take it in your mouth, James. Be greedy and suck it, love!" she whispered.

Again she could easily have spoken the words quietly rather than whisper, and still not be overheard outside, of course. But her whispering made the risk seem greater, as if her neighbour was craning his neck to catch the sounds that betrayed the boundary that Aunt Anne and I we were crossing right then.

I swirled my tongue around her cone-like nipple and flicked it against the firm, pink, rounded tip. Then I engulfed her entire small breast with my mouth and began to suck greedily and noisily. Again there was no risk of being heard outside, but the lewd sound nevertheless seemed daring and exciting.

I moved my mouth to her other breast and gave that my full attention. Aunt Anne was teasing my sensitive back.

We carried on like this for several minutes, relishing each sensual kiss and caress. I rubbed my naked chest against her satin-clad belly, enjoying the feel of the soft warm fabric against my skin.

The neighbour -- I suddenly remembered that his name was Frank -- must either have obtained his wife's permission or else had decided to risk her anger, as I heard the sound of shears being wielded. I realised he must be trimming the privet hedge. I was surprised but glad that he was using shears rather than a powered hedge-trimmer. The subtle, rhythmical snipping sound added an inexplicable ambience to Aunt Anne's and my foreplay. An electric trimmer would have been a distraction, and its sound would have shattered any squishy illusion that our voices might be audible.

I shuffled a little lower down Aunt Anne's bed and rubbed my chest gently against her satin-covered crotch. Aunt Anne cooed softly, and I added my own low grunt of pleasure at the sensation.

I heard footsteps on the pavement outside, accompanied by the jingling of a dog's collar and address disc. The shearing paused. A lady's well-spoken voice wished Frank good morning and said that, yes, she was taking Louis for a walk round the block and to the newsagent's shop.

Aunt Anne sniggered at the sound of the voice and pulled a mock snobbish expression. The woman, Jane, was perhaps a little older than Frank and his wife, and was rather snooty.

Aunt Anne had a habit of giving nicknames to people who annoyed her, and referred to this woman as "Lady Jane Grey". The "grey" came from the colour of her hair, and the "Lady" was a reference to her airs and graces. I had to admit that her posh voice sounded rather contrived. And she even pronounced her poodle's name "Louis" in a French accent.

I thought of "Lady Jane's" supercilious expression as I sucked Aunt Anne's breast harder, trying to imagine the horrified look on her face if she could see us. I looked into my aunt's face and reciprocated her impression of a snobbish face. I smirked. Aunt Anne grinned back and chuckled softly.

At the risk of sounding pathetic or puerile, although I knew that we were safe from being discovered, I tried to imagine Frank beckoning "Lady Jane" closer.

In my mind's eye I pictured him, with whispered words, mimes and knowing nods at Aunt Anne's window, as he disclosed our dreadful secret. I imagined the snooty woman's blushes and intakes of breath, her tuts and head-shakes of shock, outrage, and disbelief.

With such images in my mind I ran my mouth over Aunt Anne's soft mound. I drew in the sweetly musky scent of her arousal through the soft ivory satin. My mouth located her slit and I pressed my tongue into it and rubbed it. Through her slippery nightdress I kissed the tiny, narrow patch of stubbly hair above her hood. The wiry texture through the soft satin felt exquisite to my sensitive lips. I inhaled her musk again.

I shuffled lower down the bed and kissed my aunt's bony shin. Then I lifted the hem of her nightdress and slid my head up inside. I thought again of the respectable, suburban life outside, and the taboo that Aunt Anne and I were defying. She caressed my scalp and neck through the fabric.

The light filtered softly through the nightdress. My aunt's face and breasts were hidden from my sight but I cupped her right breast with my left hand, kneading it through the warm, silky satin. My fingers brushed the top of her little orb through the fine mesh trim.

With my right hand I eased open her soft, hairless labia. Entranced, I stared at the pink inner flesh for a moment. Then I began to chew and tug with my lips, to lick, to lap, to suck. Aunt Anne's whimpers and croons encouraged me and excited me further.

I tried to picture Lady Jane and Frank's expressions if they could only see us, and thought of the frantic telephone calls they would make to tell others, "not for the sake of gossip", of course, but because "I genuinely thought you should know."

All this was just fantasy, of course -- Aunt Anne and I weren't stupid enough to betray what we were doing by letting ourselves be heard. But it was a juicy fantasy. And the more I thought of the shock and disapproval that our actions would provoke, the more aroused I became.

I gazed at my aunt's stubbly pussy hair, trimmed to a narrow landing strip. I rested my eyes on her tattoo, the flower and the butterfly. But my gaze fixed on the alluring sight of her puffy pussy lips and the folds of her hood.

I shifted my mouth to my aunt's firm thigh and kissed and licked it, then returned to her pussy, the pussy I should by rights never even seen, far less pleasured -- let alone entered.

Aunt Anne wriggled a little and sat up. I emerged from under her nightdress. I stared at her attractive, eager face and at her breasts, one bared and the other still veiled in ivory satin. Her hair, usually smart and well groomed, hung untidily on each side of her face.

She eased both straps free of her arms altogether and guided both my hands to her high-mounted little breasts. I stared at them as I rolled them gently with my palms, pressed them flat, then let them rise again to their natural smallness and shape.

Aunt Anne pulled my face to hers and we kissed. I was very conscious that my mouth must have tasted of her sweet inner juice, and it was deliciously naughty that she was tasting herself from me. Our tongues met, and danced and pushed against each other.

Still Lady Grey's posh voice and that of Frank, my aunt's neighbour continued outside, but I was listening to my aunt's groans and whimpers and not to the neighbours' conversation -- though I was conscious of it.

Aunt Anne withdrew her mouth from mine.

"Lie down James, love, and let Auntie taste your cock!" she whispered.

My stomach churned at her explicit coarseness. She normally only used mild expletives, and even these she spoke quite infrequently. My heart was also pounding with anticipation at the prospect. I respected her too much to ask her to do this, but she was offering and I was more than happy to accede.

She knelt between my knees. She held my gaze as she lowered her face slowly, slowly down. It was terribly wrong to see the mouth of my dad's sister approaching my seeping, purplish tip, but of course that was part of the illicit appeal.

I stared, perspiring with anticipation, guilt and lust as Aunt Anne parted her lips, and I lay spellbound and helpless as she took my tip -- the tip of her brother's son -- into her mouth. I watched her lips wrap around it and stared as she eased her mouth down until the top half of my erection was in her mouth.

I groaned at the spectacle and sensation of my aunt's soft, warm mouth around me. Then, still gazing at me fixedly and wantonly, she began to work her head slowly up and down. The noise was soft but lewd, and although I knew they could not hear, fleetingly I again imagined Frank and Lady Jane outside, gasping with shock.

Aunt Anne's soft hair brushed my thighs and I caressed the soft skin of her back and the protruding hardness of her spine as she looked lewdly into my strained face. Her cheeks -- my aunt's cheeks -- dimpled and relaxed as she began to suck.

She almost seemed to guess what I wanted, because, still with her mouth around my manhood, she moved round so that she was kneeling at ninety degrees to me across the bed at allow me to fondle her better.