It had been a month or so since I had first fucked my wife's Aunt on my bathroom floor. That is such an amazing sentence to say! And I also have to say it was such a bizarre situation that it did not feel like I was cheating on my wife. Yeah, yeah, yeah-- I can hear all the women yelling at me already, cheating is cheating! Fine. But the thing is, if I get caught, I am completely comfortable telling my wife the entire story of how it happened and accepting the consequences.
Aunt Darla, short for Darlene, is a 59 year old former beauty pageant queen with an elegant California rich housewife demeanor. She looks great for her age, hell, she looks great for any age. Her chestnut brown hair is cut short, and her neck is always decorated in pearls or something better. She's almost six feet tall and has a dazzling smile that can fill a room or make you feel like a total piece of shit. Her ass is also a treasure that should be put on a pedestal in the Hall Of Great Buttocks. When we first met she seemed to be deliberately provoking me with barely disguised insults about just about everything I did or owned... and it seemed that way because she actually was provoking me. When I confronted her about her behavior, things got weird, and I wound up spanking her ass and then fucking the shit out of her on my bathroom floor.
I had never spanked a woman's ass in my life. I had never spanked anyone's ass in my life! I had also never cheated on my wife before. I came to find out that Aunt Darla also did not cheat on her husband ( an impotent asshole she married for money ). It was hard to figure out what was going on in Darla's head, and crotch, about all this. The thing was, fucking her was amazing, and I wanted more of that bubble-butt ass and that hot socialite mouth around my cock....but what the fuck was going on with all this???
Bit by bit, I figured out that Darla had been sex-starved for years. Her response had been to withdraw inward. To get mean. To lash out. She had overheard my wife brag about our sex life for a while, which led to her getting more mean out of jealousy, and so our confrontation was just the small spark that blew up decades of frustration. And the spanking stuff...as near as I can tell, it seems that though Aunt Darla really needs to fuck and loves to fuck, she feels guilty about it, and so she has to frame it as a punishment or a contrition. The fact I was family made me 'safe'. The fact I wasn't a blood relative made it 'not a Hillbilly thing'...her words, not mine. Darla's family was a toxic mess, and all she said fit in perfectly with all the stories my wife had told me. She needed therapy, but due to her stubborn upper class pride and 1950's indoctrination of the Double Standard, the only psychological help she would accept had to come from my dick.
So, basically, to keep the peace in my new family the best thing I can do is fuck the shit out of my elegant, hot Aunt as often as possible.
That next possibility was at a family gathering at an outdoor rustic farm resort near Altoona, Pennsylvania. I hadn't seen Darla in a while, and she was up to usual obnoxious, rich wife bullshit. Well, almost usual. I noticed whenever she complained about the food service or criticized Aunt Mabel's Mu Mu, it was when I was nearby. Finally I told my wife I would take Aunt Darla off somewhere and have a talk with her, which made Terry almost faint with relief. I found Darla over by the chocolate fountain, telling Uncle Ted that chocolate fountains were for peasants and lead singers of rock bands, and easily plied her away from her unwilling listeners. Taking her arm in my hand, I guided her out of the main building and into an empty side barn that used be for Horses. I had scouted it out earlier. These days there were no animals to keep, but the owners kept all the horse livery, anvils and other equine sundries to preserve that rustic look. The place smelled of hay, weathered pine and leather, and I had a feeling it would turn Darla on as much as it did me.
When I closed the barn door, she turned and faced me, her hands on her hips, her eyes smoldering, her body tense with expectations; she was every inch the defiant dowager Aunt.
"Now tell me Bob, what ever could be the reason for your pushy, low class behavior?" I didn't say a word. Her tone was sarcastic. She knew the reason, and she was telling me she knew. I stared at her silently, ogling her. Her pleated dark green party dress came down to just above her ankles and set off her body perfectly. And of course, she was wearing pearls.
I walked toward her, she did not step away. I grabbed her shoulders and flipped her around to face away from me. I pushed her forward, making her face one of the walls. I then put her hands over her head, as if she was getting searched. She said nothing. I pulled her hips from the wall a bit, making her rump stick out farther. She was still quiet, though I could see she was breathing faster now. I flipped her dress up and over to reveal her magnificent bubble butt enshrined with sheer black hose and garter belts, with no panties to prevent my eyes from devouring that luscious Queen of all asses. I caressed both of her marble like cheeks with one hand while holding her dress up.
"You were behaving very poorly tonight, Aunt Darla.", I softly chided her.
"So what? Those people were pigs.", she snapped back. I kept caressing and massaging her ass, getting her ready for what was to come.
"Those people are guests of our friends, Aunt Darla."
She mocked me with a, "Pfft." I ignored it and moved into squeezing and grabbing her ass, pinching it here and there, which was bringing a pinkish hue up to the surface of her skin.
"And they, these pigs, all actually behaved properly - unlike you - and refused to be provoked by your spoiled brat routine."
"Oh please. They wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire." Her voice was trembling from excitement.
I gave her ass a light smack. "That's not the point." I gave her ass another smack, and then a few more. Oh hell yes....! Her skin sent an electric thrill through my palm every time I made contact with her perfect cheeks. Despite my excitement, I resisted picking up the pace or increasing the power of my stroke. I kept it constant, maddeningly constant. She began to shimmy a bit and then after a couple of minutes she was outright writhing! When that small delicious moan finally escaped her lips, the moan she couldn't help, the moan that said more was needed--more was demanded, that's when I knew it was time to get serious.
The last time I had spanked Aunt Darla's ass, it was totally an impulse thing, that we just fell into. But I had been reading up on people who liked spankings, so this time, I was ready. Ready, willing and able! I got down some of the leather straps hanging from the hooks on the wall and tied up her dress so I could use both hands to give Aunt Darla's succulent Rich GILF body the punishment she needed. I found another length of leather that was a little wider, but soft and well worn.
Perfect.
I leaned into Aunt Darla and whispered in her ear, "The safe word is Chocolate fountain."
"...wha...what?"
"If it gets too much, or I make you uncomfortable, say 'Chocolate Fountain'."
"ah...allright."
I stepped back and grabbed her ass with both hands, jiggling and manhandling them like mere things, like base objects. Then I moved to her side, to get more leverage, and gave her a big swat, twice as hard as the ones I had given her before. Her legs flinched, but she didn't move. I gave her another, and then three more. Her twitching turned into swaying, and I continued swatting her ass harder, and harder still. She grunted with each hard stroke, but never moved more than an inch. Her face stayed pressed against the rough hewn wall. The smacking of my hand echoed in the empty barn, the only other sounds were my grunts and Darla's suppressed moans.
Her ass was now as red as a ripe peach, and I was ready to take her to the next level. I took the wide leather strap in my hand and stood back a bit. I traced the strap across her skin, and she hissed a bit in surprise. She turned around and saw the strap in my hand. Her eyes went wide, and she turned back to the wall. I waited a few seconds, still running the limp leather bit over her reddened ass. She said nothing.
"Five strokes. For being a bad girl.", I told her. She nodded briskly.
I kept my eye on her sweet, lovely ass as I pulled my arm back and gave her a solid strike across the dead center of her ass.
Yes, I had been practicing.
Aunt Darla writhed and contorted. A gurgle of a stifled shout came from her mouth, but she did not move from her spot. I ran my hand across her ass, looking for any breakage of skin, making extra sure I wasn't pushing her too far. The heat radiating from her perfectly curved ass cheeks was amazing! I had trouble not falling into a reverie over the delicious sensation of a hot, whipped ass cheek under my hand. I stepped back, and gave her another stroke. And then a quick second one right afterwards. A scream came from her mouth: a cry of satisfaction and of pain needfully felt! A cry I had been longing to hear without ever knowing it. I gave her another stroke, the fourth of five, and she screamed again. When her cry had finished echoing in the ancient horse barn and silence fell once more, I gave her the last stroke with a little extra power in it, which made her cringe and writhe against the wall.
Her ass was far redder than before and now there were three stripes of a brighter red across it. I looked at her for a few seconds. I just watched her feel it; feel what I had done to her, what she had let me do to her. Her body was moving in the strangest of ways, I could only imagine what kind of feelings were running through her body. But I know it's not pain at this point, it's more a kind of peace, a satisfaction, an absolute stillness.... The sight of her amazing ass and legs, framed by her forest green dress and the perfect black hose and garters was so damn beautiful, especially when surrounded by the natural wood of the barn, that it stopped being sexy and became a moment of pure visual and emotional perfection. I really liked that.
I slowly approached her and took her in my arms, and she leaned against me. We stayed that way for a bit. Then she took in a big sniff of air and broke the silence.
"So, I guess you're going to have to do me now, right big boy?", she was half sarcastic, clearly making fun of herself.
"Nope."
She looked genuinely surprised. "What? Really?"
"Yep. I said 'Nope'."
"Oh. I just assumed that we would..."
"Now, Aunt Darla, what kind of punishment would that be?"
"I don't know, Bob. What kind?", she asked haughtily.
I smiled. "Get rid of your husband after 9pm tonight. And dress in your frilliest, most expensive lingerie."
