Reading notes:
1. This story was first conceived by my new sissy friend, Simon(e). I thank hur for sharing the outline with me, and I am happy to dedicate the story to Simon(e)'s late Owner, my friend Nicky. N.B. Neither Nicky nor I share the character Olwen Simpson's dislike of swear words! Nicky was, and I still am as 'potty mouthed' as Aunty Joanne!
2. All characters named in this story are over the age of 18, and all the sex acts described are consensual.
3. All authors thrive on comments. Please feel free to add yours, whether you enjoyed this story or not.
For the second time in a little over eight months, I found myself by the side of an open grave in the public cemetery in the town where I have lived for all of the twenty three years of my life. Last time, I was accompanied by my Aunty Joanne, and we were burying her husband, my Uncle Graham. Despite the words that the priest had intoned during the funeral service in church, and again here at the graveside, I wasn't convinced by her promise of an afterlife. One thing I was sure of though was that Uncle Graham and Aunty Joanne were together again. Her coffin had been lowered into the grave to rest alongside that of her late husband, and after I'd accepted a handful of earth from the undertaker to drop into the grave, I'd thanked the priest and started the short walk back to the house where I'd lived with Uncle Graham and Aunty Joanne ever since my parents had been killed in a car crash eighteen years ago.
I was both upset and confused. Upset because the two people I cared about the most in my life were now both dead. And confused because I had nowhere to go. I wondered what was to become of the house where I'd been so happy. Uncle Graham had been a solicitor, the senior partner in the firm which bore his name. I was convinced that he and Aunty Joanne would have left their affairs in good order, but where did that leave me?
The weather had turned suitably chilly, and as I walked out of the cemetery, a cold rain began to fall. The sky turned markedly darker, and I shivered and drew my long black coat around me to prevent my best suit getting wet as the rain increased. I was about to look for a taxi when a car pulled up beside me. The passenger window slid down and a voice said,
"Alun, I'm so sorry for your loss. Jump in, and I'll take you home. I have some information you need to hear, so you might as well hear it on the way home."
The speaker was Walter Phillips, Uncle Graham's partner in the firm of Thomas & Phillips, Solicitors. Gratefully I got into the car and thanked Walter for the lift home.
"Don't mention it," he replied gruffly. "I shouldn't have been at the funeral, according to what Joanne required in her last will and testament. That's why you didn't see me at the graveside. Joanne stipulated that no-one from the office should attend her funeral and that only you, her adopted son, should be present. So I parked outside the cemetery and waited for you. It wasn't a lack of respect on our part, you see. We were complying with your mother's wishes."
"My mother died eighteen years ago, Walter " I reminded him. "Uncle Graham and Aunty Joanne adopted me, but they never thought of themselves as my father and mother. My parents were best friends with them, and so they took over responsibility for bringing me up after mam and dad were killed."
"Well whatever you called them, they're gone now," replied Walter sadly. "I know you've taken some time to come to terms with your loss and we don't expect you back in the office until you're fit and ready to take up your responsibilities again. But I must insist that you attend the reading of Joanne's will. She stipulated that it be done on the day following her funeral, so I'll expect you in the office at ten o'clock tomorrow morning without fail."
"Well, here we are," he continued, pulling off the main road and steering carefully down the tree lined drive that led to the house where I'd lived for the most of my life.
"No thank you," Walter replied in response to my invitation to come in for a drink. "I have to get back to the office. I've left Mrs. Jackson in charge. She's a very efficient office manager, but she's not a solicitor. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late!"
He tooted the car's horn as he executed a smooth three point turn in front of the double fronted house and returned my wave as he made his way back down the drive, to return to the office, where presumably, he was now the sole partner. I let myself into the house and, having put the kettle on to boil, I set about making myself a cup of coffee to try and inject some warmth into my body, which was as cold as ice thanks to both the unseasonal weather and the recent event at the cemetery.
I took my steaming mug of coffee into the sitting room and sat down in the chair that I inevitably used when Uncle Graham and Aunty Joanne were at home. Taking a sip of my scalding drink, I closed my eyes and started to recall my life so far.
My parents had been killed in a road traffic accident shortly before my fifth birthday. On the night in question they had been out for dinner with their best friends, two people I knew as Uncle Graham and Aunty Joanne. Whilst they were out, my grandmother, my father's mother babysat me. I didn't know it then, but she was soon to become my only living relative.
Gran struggled to bring me up on her own for a few weeks. She was shattered with grief at the death of her beloved son, but she tried her best to give me the attention I craved. I went back to school, but I couldn't settle, and my teacher reported that both my behaviour and my concentration span had both understandably deteriorated. Gran was very concerned, and turned to Uncle Graham for help.
His solution was both simple and effective. He and Aunty Joanne adopted me, and I went to live with them in their huge house on the other side of town. I continued to see Gran regularly, but then I was sent away to school, and it was during my last year of prep school that I was summoned to the Headmaster's study one day.
When I got there I was surprised to see Uncle Graham. I greeted him warmly, but he came bearing sad news. Gran had died in her sleep, and now I truly was alone. I loved Uncle Graham and Aunty Joanne, but they were not blood relatives. I felt dreadful.
I was allowed to return home with Uncle Graham to attend Gran's funeral. The day after the service I expected to return to school, but Uncle Graham and Aunty Joanne had news for me.
I was going to go to a new school, one that Uncle Graham himself had attended. It had all been arranged, and the expectation was that I would be taught there until it was time for me to go to University where I would study law and on graduation, I would join Uncle Graham's firm as a junior solicitor.
And that was exactly what happened. My new school was very exclusive, very expensive and very academic. I flourished there. I returned home for the holidays at the end of each term with glowing reports of my progress both in the classroom and on the sports field. My adoptive parents were thrilled, and I was proud to please them.
Then everything changed. I had done my A level exams (Law, French, English and Music) and I'd achieved good enough grades to get into my first choice University. I was at home, school having finished, and I had eight weeks off before I would have to leave to start my Law degree. Uncle Graham had gone into the office and I was alone in the house with Aunty Joanne. I had just celebrated my eighteenth birthday and I will remember what happened next for the rest of my life.
We were sitting at the breakfast table, finishing off our meal. I was wearing the T shirt and shorts that I regularly slept in, and Aunty Joanne had her fluffy bathrobe on. We chatted about what plans I had for the summer, and whether or not I would like to accompany Uncle Graham and her on a holiday in Provence, France, where they had a holiday home.
I'd been taken there several times when I was younger, but I'd chosen to stay at home for a couple of years. This had seemed to disappoint Aunty Joanne in particular, and so when she asked me again, I said that I'd be delighted to accompany her and Uncle Graham for a fortnight of "la vie Française". Aunty Joanne giggled and said, "I love it when you speak French, Alun. You've managed to retain it even though you haven't been with us these past couple of years. Your Uncle and I can just about manage "Bonjour" and "Merci" yet you speak it like a Frenchman! It makes me feel all squishy inside when I hear you!"
I blushed. Luckily, Aunty Joanne was seated opposite me at the breakfast table, so I was able to hide the massive hard-on that her words had provoked. I had been holding a torch for my very pretty, very sexy Aunty for a couple of years now, but out of respect for Uncle Graham I had done nothing about it, unless you counted my daily wank, during which I fantasised about fucking Aunty Joanne.
She reached over to collect my empty cereal bowl and my plate, now just full of toast crumbs. The movement caused her bathrobe to open slightly and I caught a fleeting glimpse of her generously proportioned tits. If anything, my hard-on just got stronger.
"I'll put these in the dishwasher," she smiled. "I'm going shopping once I've cleared up here and dressed. Is there anything I can get you in town?"
"No thanks," I replied, taking advantage of her having turned her back on me to load the dishwasher to get up from the table and hurry out of the kitchen.
"I need to get dressed too," I said as I made my way upstairs to my bedroom.
Once inside my bedroom, I closed the door and quickly stripped off my shorts. I lay down on my bed and took my rampant cock in my hand. It was red hot, throbbing with an intense pulse, and very very hard! I eased my foreskin back, exposing my light purple cock helmet. I could almost see the heat sheen coming off it. Slowly, I began to wank, picturing Aunty Joanne's beautiful tits. My head began to swim.
I was well into my rhythm when, to my horror, there was a knock on my door, and before I could do anything, the door opened and I heard, "Alun, love. Can I speak to you for a minute?"
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, apart from the blush that immediately appeared on my face. My cock wilted, I struggled to try and stand up and cover myself all at the same time. Aunty Joanne stood there, still in her fluffy bathrobe, her eyes glued to my rapidly shrivelling cock.
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were busy," she began, continuing with, " and I seem to have interrupted you. Oh look! Your cock's gone all soft. No. Don't get up. Lie there, and I'll see what I can do to help you with that!"
To my horror, a feeling which rapidly turned to delight, Aunty Joanne put her hand firmly on my chest and pushed me back into a prone position on my bed. She smiled at me and reached out her elegant hand with its delicate fingers and took hold of my limp, useless cock.
"Oh my!" she breathed quietly, a grin beginning to form on her soft, pink lips, "you have grown into a big boy, haven't you? Even as soft and floppy as you are now, you're much bigger than your Uncle Graham."
Expertly, she slid my foreskin back, exposing my cock helmet, which began to react. It started to swell.
"Mmm! That's better!" she said softly, looking me in the eye and smiling. "You seem to be liking this, Alun. I wonder what will happen if I do this?"
To my amazement, she knelt down at the side of my bed and dipped her head. Her soft, warm mouth enveloped my cock head, and I felt her tongue rubbing the very sensitive underneath of my helmet.
