When Brent Casey got sent to his Aunt Helen's house for a week back in the summer of 1998, he knew that while the reason his Mom gave him was for him to help her sister-in-law out, Brent knew that it was mostly to give his mother a break from being both Mom and Dad. The fact that his Mom had just started seeing a guy for the first time since Dad had divorced her probably factored in as well.
Brent really didn't mind getting banished to his Aunt Helen's, even though her place was in the middle of nowhere just outside of the little town of Malone, New York because Brent had just broken up with his girlfriend of several months. Since he would be off to college come September there was no point in just moping around the house until then so he went willingly.
It didn't hurt that Brent got along very well with his father's sister, and one of the things they had in common was that they both held Brent's father in contempt. Brent still hadn't forgiven his old man for walking out on him and his Mom a few years back, while his Aunt Helen had never hidden her contempt for her brother although the reason was unclear.
Helen Becker was in her early fifties and was not only a good cook but was very outgoing and had a sense of humor that was a little racy, but there was something else that attracted Brent to his Aunt.
Aunt Helen had dark brown hair and was a rather petite woman, but there was something about her that Brent had fantasized about ever since he started noticing girls, that being that Aunt Helen had huge breasts.
Brent thought that because the rest of Aunt Helen was very slender without an ounce of fat on her lean 5'5" frame, that made her chest look even bigger that it actually was, but there was no denying that no matter how you look at it, Aunt Helen was what Brent's Mom always said she was, a busty woman.
Brent wished that his Aunt would wear clothing that showed off those incredible boobs but she rarely did. One exception was that several years ago after the old man left them the two of them went to some lake with Aunt Helen for a picnic and he saw his Aunt in a bathing suit, a very modest one piece.
To say the sight made an impression on Brent would be a great understatement because the photos he took of the picnic were the inspiration for countless orgasms since then. His favorite was one where Aunt Helen was sitting in a lawn chair with her eyes closed, and the photo showed off her breasts perfectly, the picture so sharp you could see the damp 5 o'clock shadow that coated Aunt Helen's underarms as she napped in the chaise.
So after Brent got dropped off by his mother and his Aunt greeted him warmly, the soon-to-be college freshman looked forward to a week filled with erections, only now without a girlfriend to help them go away.
As Brent recalls it, the week was not what he had expected.
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Right from the start I sensed that something was different between me and Aunt Helen. I think it was because this was really the first time I had been with her without Mom there, and maybe Helen sensed that too.
The first day was a short one with Mom sticking around to chat until driving back home, but after Mom left we ate dinner we watched TV until bedtime. Aunt Helen probably paid more attention to the shows than I did because I was too busy looking at her.
Aunt Helen had put on a nightgown after we ate, and while it was very modest in style, loose fitting and rather shapeless, what made it great was that it was clear she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. Whenever Aunt Helen would get up I fought not to stare as those amazing tits swayed around freely, and what I would have given for that nightgown to be more snug.
After I went to the guest room to go to bed it wasn't 10 minutes before I broke a vow I had made not to jerk off while I was visiting here, but sleep would have been impossible the way I felt. Even when I was sleeping I thought about Aunt Helen, even imagining that she came into the room at some time in the middle of the night.
When I woke up the next morning I could hear the shower on down the hall, and a peek outside showed that like yesterday today would be a hot and sunny day. We had decided last night that we would clean out her garage, hauling all of the departed Uncle Phil's crap to the curb so she could rid herself of any remnants of her marriage.
I had never known my aunt and uncle were not happy together, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why somebody would leave Aunt Helen because she was cute and had a great personality, not to mention her other qualities.
I waited a bit after the shower went off before I went down to the bathroom, but decided to duck down to Aunt Helen's bedroom to make sure she was done before I stunk it up. Reaching the doorway I froze in place when I saw Aunt Helen wasn't fully dressed yet.
She had a towel wrapped around her scalp and was wearing a light blue tank-top with nothing underneath. Down below she had panties on, and while I was captivated with the sight of those incredible tits, when I saw the hairs peeking out of the leg openings of Aunt Helen's panties my eyes went down there, not noticing that Aunt Helen was now aware of my presence.
"Didn't mean to leave the door open," she said calmly while making no move to cover herself as she looked for a pair of shorts in her dresser. "That's what happens when you live alone, leaving doors open you should close. That and you end up talking to yourself a lot."
"Sorry," I mumbled as I stepped back and looked away as best I could.
"Hey, we're family right?" she asked as she pulled up the shorts, and tucked in the tank-top which held her pendulous breasts in place. "And you aren't a kid anymore."
"This doesn't bother you does it Brent?" Aunt Helen asked as I got caught staring at her breasts again and particularly at the fat nipples that seemed to be trying to pop through the cotton. "Wearing this I mean? It's going to be warm out there today."
"No, you're right about the temperature. It's going to be hotter today than yesterday," I replied, and that was going to be an understatement in more ways than one.
Working close to Aunt Helen all day was painful because my erection was being bent in all different ways as I tried to make it not poke out in my shorts. Even Aunt Helen sweaty was sexy to me, with sweat drenching a lot of her tank-top, a dark spot on the base of her spine and large rings in the armholes doing nothing to dampen my just because despite it all she still smelled sweet, something I couldn't probably say for myself.
"Whew!" Aunt Helen exclaimed with her hands on her hips when we finally finished with the garage. "The cellar isn't going to be as bad though."
I barely listened to my aunt because my eyes were busy watching her breasts rise up and outward as she lifted her hands to her scalp and raked her fingers through her short shag haircut, nipples pointing right at me.
"At least it might be cooler down there. I thought it would be nicer to work outside on such a sunny day, but this is like a sauna out here," Aunt Helen sighed as she kept her hands on the top of her head, and it was then that my eyes strayed to the gentle recesses of her underarms.
This wasn't the first time I had peeked under my aunt's arms, and to be honest I looked at most women the same way, having had a fondness for women's armpits for as long as I could remember, and because Aunt Helen's arms were slender and toned I found hers quite appealing.
Usually though, Aunt Helen's underarms were either smooth as butter or with just a faint 5 o'clock shadow, but today it was clear that Aunt Helen hadn't shaved in a few days, not that it bothered me.
I thought the stubble looked sexy on her, and to be honest it wouldn't have bothered me if she had never shaved at all. The way that the few days growth covered the entire hollow indicated that left unshorn Aunt Helen would have armpit hair like a few women I've seen on the Internet, and I guess I was fantasizing about that very thing when I noticed my aunt was aware of what I was looking at.
"Oh honey, I'm sorry," Aunt Helen said when after she glanced under her arm she lowered them fast. "Another case of me being alone for a while and slipping a bit."
"No - uh - it's okay," i stammered.
"I'll never find another man these days if I walk around with hair under my arms," Helen suggested. "After all this isn't the Summer of Love. I'll try to remember to shave when I shower later."
"It's not really - um - you don't need too - I'm just here for a little while and - it's not really," was my superbly delivered argument against her doing that, although knowing I had to tread lightly helped my nervousness.
I was attempting to tell Aunt Helen she didn't need to shave, and anyway was was coating her armpits wasn't really hair yet but more like what a man would have on his face if he didn't shave for a week, or in my case a couple of months. Maybe she got what I was trying to say because she lifted her arm again and shrugged.
"I look more like a porcupine than a hippie," Aunt Helen mused, actually rubbing her hand under her arm while I stood there afraid not to shift my weight to the other foot for fear the movement of my erection against my underwear would make me cum right there.
"I'm embarrassing you, aren't I?" she asked, and although I shook my head no I guess my face gave it away because I was blushing brightly.
"That's right. Now I remember!" Aunt Helen said. "I remember your Mom telling me - and I shouldn't pass this on because if she knew I told you..."
"No, go ahead," I answered. "I won't say anything."
"Well, your Mom told me about your girlfriend," Aunt Helen recalled. "What's her name? Betty? Brenda?"
"Bella," I corrected as I feared what was coming up, "and she's not my girlfriend anymore."
"Oh. Sorry. Maybe that makes it okay to rat on your mother. Anyway, your mother told me how happy you were that you had a girlfriend, but although she seemed polite and pleasant enough, she noticed she had hair under her arms," Aunt Helen related, clearly less humiliated than I was. "So one day when you were out of earshot your mother told your Bella that it wasn't ladylike to not shave under your arms."
"Oh good god!" I blurted out, now aware of why that relationship had soured.
"I guess Bella then told your mother that it didn't matter to her but it was Brent's idea for her not to shave," my aunt revealed.
"It was none of her business. That's so wrong," I muttered.
Wrong it was on every count, with the first being it wasn't any of my mother's concern. Besides that, Bella had so little hair under her arms - just little wisps of light brown in the centers of her armpits that you had to really look to see them. That comment might help explain why even though I always thought she liked me more than I liked her, she was the one that broke it off.
"Mothers can be a little much at times," Aunt Helen said. "She probably meant well."
"Interrogating my girlfriend for something like that?" I fumed.
"I know, and since I'm babbling like this I might as well warn you to be careful at home about what you leave open on the computer," Aunt Helen went on. "I guess she saw something you were looking at - related to - you know."
"Oh," I mumbled, and while I didn't know specifically what site I had not cleared off my history I had an idea what the subject was.
"She wasn't mad. As a matter-of-fact your mother was amused a little. She said you were like a chip off the old block," Aunt Helen told me. "My brother had a few quirks himself I guess."
I had no knowledge about that because my father passed away several years ago, so I didn't know what his peculiarities were, but the idea that my old man might have liked women with a lot of pubic hair and unshaven armpits was kind of funny even though I wasn't laughing just then.
