I Know You Want Me 1

My mother’s parents divorced when she was very young, then later they both remarried. Their new partners each had children from previous marriages and both new couples had children with each other. As a result, my mother has lots of step-brothers and step-sisters, and she also has half-brothers half-sisters and one full brother. One of these half-sisters was born just two months after I was and, since my grandmother lived very close to us, we grew up together. There was also another sister and brother, both younger than us and I have some of my own. Aunt Trisha and I weren’t like brother and sister, nor like aunt and nephew; we were more like the children of close friends. We would often play together during the day and once or twice a week I would be left at my grandmother’s house or Trisha would be left at our house. Back then, almost fifty years ago, it was not unusual for us to sleep in the same bed. We were, after all, infants and then toddlers, so there was no real harm in it. I can remember being aware of how cute she was though, at a very early age. I mean, like three years old.

There was one night when I messed things up. We were five when I just couldn’t resist kissing her. Of course it was nothing like a kiss that teenagers and adults might share, and I didn’t see any harm it. But to my mother and grandmother, when they learned of it in the morning (Trisha had told my mom about it with a little-girl giggle in her voice), it was like an alarm had sounded. There was no more sharing the same bed and almost no overnight visits at all. I sat through a long-winded lecture from both of them and I know that Trisha did too. We also became the family joke for years to come. I didn’t understand and I still don’t, really. If they had not made such a big production out of it then the whole thing would probably have passed out of my system in a short time and been forgotten. The result of their actions though, was that Trisha became the Forbidden Fruit and I never got past wondering what it was that they didn’t want us to find out.

So I was naturally determined to find out the big secret, but it became difficult to explore such things. They must have frightened Trisha because she wouldn't let me kiss her again, and later her family moved several counties away because my grandmother’s husband had inherited a farm. We only saw them a few times each year for a day or two at a time, when they visited us or we visited them. Still, whenever we were together, Trisha and I would be as close as if no time had passed at all. We would be the best of friends, catch each other up on the news, introduce each other to our friends and so on.

Trisha had a life with a lot of heartache in it. Her parents had both been older when she was born and they died while she was still young. She went to live with her grandparents, my great-grandparents, along with her sister and brother. Of course, they were older still and didn’t live long either. After that, the three of them got passed from one family member to another several times. No one in the family was wealthy and, when it got be too much of a financial burden for a half-sister, for example, one or two of them, or all three would be sent to live with a step-brother. In time she came to live with my family. We got to be close again as teenagers because of this, often going out on double dates together or just hanging out.

The last summer that I was home was a very good one for us and it was the year we both turned eighteen. I’d been working for a while, had bought a car from my dad when he bought a new one, and had no other expenses. We would sometimes get our friends together and go out to a show or a ball game or something, then ride around for hours together after I had dropped everyone else off at their homes. Sometimes we would ride all night, just me and her. We would talk about all sorts of things from idle chit-chat to serious things. We talked about our girlfriends and boyfriends, what we wanted to do with our lives, what great catastrophes (to us, with our teenaged eyes) we were facing at a given time and on and on. Toward the end of the summer I began to talk about having my own home and how much I was going to enjoy being in charge of my own life, instead of having to abide by my parents rules.

All this time I still had that crush on Aunt Trisha, but the lesson had been learned. I was not about to do anything overt and have my parents pass her on to some other relative. I just enjoyed what I could of her while she was so near. While she had been cute as a little girl, she had turned into a gorgeous young woman. She was kind of small, maybe five-foot-four or five, with a nice set of curves about her. She had blue eyes and her hair was long, down to the small of her back. It had been fully blonde when she was growing up, but had darkened until it was almost brown. Still, it had a sheen to it that would hint at its history if you knew to look for it. She had taken after her mother, as mine did, in that she was a big-breasted girl. She had begun to develop when she was about twelve and by the time she came to live with us she was already too big for the c-cup bras she had brought with her. I’m not just saying that for the sake of the story. I’ve had women both large-breasted and small, and I’ve enjoyed them either way. This just happens to be the way Aunt Trisha was built. She had short legs by some standards, but they were well-formed and looked good with the short skirts and short-shorts she wore all the time. She often wore cut off t-shirts that showed her belly or formfitting sleeveless sweater-shirts. To any man she was quite an eyeful, but to a teenaged boy with raging hormones she was almost impossible to resist. I remember being jealous of all her boyfriends and many times I shot my load, either with whatever girlfriend I had at the time or alone in my room, with visions of Aunt Trisha flashing through my mind. To reach for her would have been to lose her and I knew it, so I kept myself in check somehow.

The day came when I did move out. My parents helped me locate a place to live, helped me fill my pantry the first time and found enough cast-off furniture, dishes and such to fill it. This wasn’t hard in such a large family. I moved in and immediately began to miss what I had left behind. Not just Aunt Trisha, but the whole family. After a few days though I got over the homesickness and settled in to my new adult life. I had friends over after work and visited friends and family myself from time to time. It was a very small house in a run down neighborhood, but it was my first home and I was proud of it, even if it was somewhat lonely now and then.

About two weeks after I had been living there Trisha was over to visit on one of those nights when the place was full of friends. She had been there several times already, but this time she stayed later. In fact, she made sure that she was the last one there. As each person would go, he or she would offer to give Trisha a ride home and she would say to each one that she was going to stay a while longer. Eventually, we were alone together and we talked as we had always talked.

Finally, she caught me off-guard when she asked me, “Can I stay here a while?”

I told her she could stay as late as she wanted to.

Then she said, “That’s not what I mean. Can I stay here a while?” She went on to explain that she was tired of living at my parents’ house and that she had a job lined up, but that it would take some time before she felt secure enough to get her own place.

I didn’t take long to think about it before I told her that, of course, she could stay with me a while. I told her that there was only one bedroom, but she could sleep on the couch if she wanted to. Old habits die hard. I didn’t want to come right out and say what was really on my mind at the time. I was afraid that she might not like it and choose to go somewhere else instead. She could have had her pick of all the guys in the neighborhood. She agreed and early the next day we went and got her things.

That day she spent finding places to put all of her stuff and learning where everything was while I was at work. When I got home I found that she had cleaned, something I had only half done since moving in, and she had put together a real supper for us. That night I didn’t invite anyone over to visit because I thought she would be too tired to enjoy a lot of loud company, so we sat on the couch watching TV and talking about things. Over the next few days it was a mixed bag; sometimes we had friends over and sometimes not. On the nights when we were alone we’d be on the couch watching TV and talking and, each time, we would find ourselves sitting a little closer together. For my part, I knew what I was doing. I was testing the waters, trying to see how close I could get inside her space before she told me to back off. She never did, and if I had been paying better attention, I would have noticed that she was playing that game too. Finally, one night we were sitting side by side and, once again, it was Trisha who spoke up and caught me by surprise.

I’d finally gotten enough courage to reach down between us and take her hand in mine. I thought it was an innocent enough gesture that she wouldn't have to slam me too hard if she thought I had stepped over the line. She just stared straight ahead for a few minutes, neither pulling away nor acknowledging what I had done. Then she turned her head to face me and, looking me in the eye she said, “I know you want me. You have for a long time, haven’t you?”

For a moment my heart stopped. What if I tell her and she leaves? What if I don’t tell her and miss whatever small chance there is? Finally I nodded and said, “Yes. I’ve wanted you all my life. You couldn’t possibly know how much I want you and how many times I’ve thought about you and fantasized about you and dreamed about you.” Then I held my breath waiting for her reaction.

I didn’t have to wait long before she said simply, “Me too.”

After that it all came flooding out, from both sides. She had felt the way I had all those years, but she too had been afraid that if she let on then we would be separated again, as we had been when we were children. She told me how she had been really nervous when she had asked to stay with me, afraid that I wouldn’t let her, afraid that I didn’t want her that way, afraid of a hundred things just like I was. Then it was like a revelation that came to me. On those double dates she had always sat in the back on the side away from me so that, if I should turn she would be able to see my face. If we were out with several friends she made sure to be the one sitting next to me. I knew that I was glad on the few occasions when my upper arm had brushed against her breast in close quarters, but I hadn’t thought that she had engineered it to make it happen. As we talked I saw that there had been a thousand times when a seemingly innocent occurrence that had given me a thrill had really been planned by her because she secretly wanted me as much as I had wanted her. And it had finally taken something as simple as my holding her hand to tell her what she needed to know.

By this time, we weren’t holding hands any more; we were hugging each other close and whispering in each other’s ears. At some point we kissed. This time it wasn’t the kiss of two kids who didn’t know what it meant; it was the kiss of two adults who knew exactly what they wanted and what they were doing. We kissed again, over and over, long and deeply, and I could feel my heart beating faster as the heat started to rise within me. And as we kissed we began to explore each other with our hands, learning what we had each become. At first it was just rubbing over our clothing, but soon we began to remove those restrictions and after a while we were skin to skin. For the first time ever, I saw those big breasts and felt them under my hands. I tasted them and wondered at her oversized nipples. They were the lightest shade of pink at the centers and faded outward towards the edges and blended into the color of the rest of her breast, until I couldn’t be sure where the edge really was. They were heavy and it took both my hands to encircle one of them. She moaned and pulled me into her as I sucked on one, then the other for a long time. I marveled at the way her nipples stood up, as big as the end of my pinky, and they were hard on my tongue. I would press in with my tongue and they would poke back out at me when I released them. Even at that age I’d had more than my share of girlfriends, but none of them had ever stacked up to my image of Aunt Trisha, and the reality was so much better than I had ever imagined.

She hadn’t been idle while I sucked on her nipples. She had been holding my head with one hand while the other roamed my body. My cock was hard with that first kiss and she found it early on, wrapping her soft hand around it and pulling on it, making it swell even more. Now and then she would run that hand up my chest or down my back, but always it returned to grasp my hardness or softly stroke my balls. At one point I even felt her poke the end of her finger into my ass. A very strange sensation for me at the time, but not entirely unpleasant either. I was doing much the same to her as well. Feeling all those curves of hers was such a thrill for me after wanting her all that time. After a while (Ten minutes? An hour? I don’t know.) I laid her back until she was fully spread out in front of me and took it all in. I called her beautiful, and it was true. Her body was without blemish, the skin soft and smooth and pale, not an ounce extra anywhere and the look in her eyes was reflecting the feelings I had in my chest; Love and lust, want and need, surrender and conquest all rolled into one.

I won’t claim that we were all that sophisticated, but I did know enough to settle between her legs and drink from the well of her passion, even if I didn’t know to say it that way back then. I licked at her honey pie and dipped my tongue inside her, I sucked on her lips and pulled hair from between my teeth. This was thirty years ago, before it was the norm for women to shave there, but that didn’t matter to me. The only thing that mattered was that I could tell she liked it. She would pull me into her one minute and try to push me away the next while I clung to her for all I was worth, driving my tongue deeper and deeper. In a short time she was like a wild animal, thrashing and clawing, trying to get away without letting go of me. The effect it had on me was beyond anything I had experienced up to that time and for a long time after. My cock was so hard that I thought it would burst and I couldn’t help but rub it against the couch beneath me in imitation of the fucking I hoped to be doing soon. I didn’t stop licking and sucking at her pussy until my jaws got too tired to go on, then I licked a line up her belly and her chest until we were face to face with our arms around each other.

We looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, then kissed again, breathing each other in for a long time. While we kissed I fumbled around trying to find the right spot. Not willing to let go of her with one arm to help me in my quest, I pushed my hips forward and poked and prodded until I felt the head of my dick lodge within her. When I found it we were locked in our embrace and our kiss and I was looking at her closed eyelids. Her eyes sprang open and looked into mine and I thrust myself into her as deeply as I could. If I live a hundred years I don’t think I could describe what I saw in her eyes at that moment. The best that I can do is to say that I saw every emotion I could imagine and a few that I didn’t recognize as I sank into her. I often wonder what she was thinking and feeling at the time, and what she might have seen in my own eyes. I know it was enough to stop me where I was for a minute or more while I did nothing but hold her and look into those blue eyes of hers. Ever since that night I’ve made sure to look into a woman’s eyes while I first sink my cock into her. It always gives me a thrill.

Now, I don’t expect you to believe that I'm anything special. On a good day I might have six inches, but it’s long enough to please me, and a girl who knows what she’s about can take it all in her mouth. As I pushed again though, I felt like I was twice that length, and she held onto me tighter and moaned, “Oh, oh, oh…”, while I went deeper with each little push. Finally I was all the way inside her. The cushion that formed between us by our hair was mashed as flat as it could be, and I could feel her pussy squeezing my cock and releasing it over and over. Her legs came up and wrapped around me as I began to rock back and forth. I could feel her breasts rolling under me as well, two firm pillows of flesh between us, and her nipples poking into my chest. I heard her moans become little exclamations as my pounding forced the air out of her lungs with each driving thrust into her hot, wet quim. I let go with one arm so I could reach down and squeeze her breast, then lower to grab her ass and feel the lips of her pussy where my shaft was sliding in and out. I could feel her juices running down her ass and I pressed against her pucker with the tip of one finger. I pushed it inside and she let out a deep, lingering “Ahhhh”, so I pushed it in and out in time with our fucking.

I kept this up for a long time, and then I wanted to see more. I pushed myself up on both hands and looked at her lying beneath me. I watched as she lay there, gulping air between thrusts, her tits dancing on her chest with the nipples swinging and swaying and making circles from the pounding down below. I saw her flat belly rise and fall while she worked her pussy against me and I saw the lips of her cunt stretched around my shaft where I was sliding in and out of her. I reached down and rubbed her clit with one finger and it was like she’d had an electric shock. Her pelvis shuddered and she sucked in her breath through clenched teeth and her eyes took on an animal-like quality. She put her feet down beside me and, using them for leverage, she began to push up against me, countering me thrust for thrust, while her hands grabbed onto my hips and pulled in time to our fucking until we were slamming together. I ran my middle finger around our union to collect the juices there. Then I held it up for her to see and pushed it into her mouth. She sucked it in, looking into my eyes and I felt her convulse beneath me. She had lost control of herself and was bucking beneath me and bit down hard on my finger. I kept fucking, ignoring the pain, lost in the feeling of ramming my cock into her over and over again while she went crazy.

I slowed only a little as she settled down and when I could recognize her again I slowed even more and finally stopped, just holding her for a while. You’ll notice I didn’t say that I had come yet. This has been my gift throughout life. I may not be big, but I can go a long time. I don’t believe in “Wham! Bam! Thank you ma’am”. I believe in an hour or more of foreplay followed by an hour or more of the old in-and-out. Anything less and I feel like I haven’t done my job to the best of my ability.

I waited until Trisha had caught her breath and then I began to saw again. She just looked at me at first, and then she began to move with me. This time I was slow and deliberate. I supported myself on my elbows and we kissed as we fucked. I don’t know how long this went on before I felt the pressure building within me, but it was a long time. When it finally hit, I couldn’t hold back for anything.

I felt my body jerk and I could hear someone shouting, “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

And someone else said, from far away, “Yes, baby! Do it for me. Do it for Aunt Trisha. Fuck me good. Give me your come, baby.” I heard those words and those kinds of words going on for what seemed an eternity and my body wasn’t my own.