The following Wednesday morning, around 9, I was alone in the house, and as was my habit, teenage boy, was whacking off to a photograph that I had taken of her at a poolside BBQ the previous summer. In the photo, she was in a red sundress/swimsuit cover up, and was leaning down to ask a neighbor's child what he wanted to drink...There was a glorious expanse of her breast exposed, her full sensuous lips, the familiar playful glint in her eyes... It was actually a brilliant photograph, and was the start of the hobby that I still pursue today. I still strive to catch those unplanned portraits that tell the person's story, that reveal, in a flash, some aspect of the soul. As I took the picture, she looked up at me. Her expression was a peculiar combination of, "Oh, I know what you are ogling, you teenage boy, you," and almost a satisfied, come-hither look. As if to say, "Finally, someone noticed that I really have a rocking body." Anyway, that picture was my prized possession, and I literally used it every day. Others were into internet porn, or magazines, including, I knew, my Uncle. But to me the airbrushed models in those venues seemed too arid in their glossy perfection. Who could be aroused by those faint shades of commercialism when there, breathing under the same roof, was a voluptuous goddess? Paul had truly creepy porn sites bookmarked on the computer (Asianheshes.com...Seriously? Seriously!), and a stack of almost equally un-erotic Hustlers (too gynecological for my taste) under his bed. Yeah, I snooped when the house was empty. And, so it was that I was in the guest room, masturbating, certain that I had at least 6 more hours of me time, when in walked my aunt!!! I was totally mortified. As I fumbled to cover up, she said gently, "I am so sorry to have startled you. Class was cancelled, so I thought I would come home and see if you wanted to do something with me..." Her eyes tracked between the sizeable lump in the covers, and the photograph placed face up beside me. Her face transformed into a look of almost ravenous joy...as though a banquet were set before a starving man. She licked her lips, and said in a husky, almost whisper, "Well, it looks like perhaps you were thinking of doing something with me...or to me? Which was it, Claude? Do you want to play with your auntie?" she asked teasingly. "I'm really flattered. I remember when you took that picture, at the Fourth of July BBQ, and I wore that dress for you. I had caught you ogling my breasts the whole week before, and I thought, 'At least someone appreciates me. Throw the poor kid a bone...' Hmmm, but now it looks like you are the one throwing me a bone!" She began to stroke my thigh, perched there on the edge of my bed, slowly pulling the covers down as she did so...The effect was a sort of tantalizing strip tease, as my lower stomach, hip and then erection slowly came into view. "Oh,my. I think you might be very glad that I came home when I did." She began sliding her warm, smooth hand over my hip, across my belly, gliding over the sensitive tops of my thighs. Instantly, I grew to full size again, recovering from the earlier shock of her arrival. She took me in her hand and lightly began to pull it up, making a loose ring of her fingers, shrinking the ring as she rubbed over the head. I was mesmerized. Up and down, up and down, now smearing a drop of precum, over the head, using it as lube. When she noticed the precum, she said, "It looks like I am going to need a hair clip. Don't go away." I was mystified and dismayed when she jumped up and ran into another room, returning moments later, arranging a barrette to pull the hair back from her face. This time, she knelt at the edge of the bed, which put her face right at the level of my penis. She locked eyes with me, leaned forward, and gave the tip the daintiest tip of the tongue lick...the precum bridging from my penis to her lips.
"MMMMM," she moaned, deep in her throat, and gave the head a slightly longer, broader stroke with her perfect pink tongue. She did this for awhile, my stomach doing flip flops, as this dream came true, and then she said, "Oh, where are my manners? I bet you would like to see more of these..." and she did that crazy woman contortionist thing where they wriggle out of bra straps without removing the shirt. When she unbuttoned the top three buttons, I had an amazing view of her breasts, lightly covered in a cream-colored, semi-sheer blouse. In the next moment, she engulfed my penis with her warm, soft lips, laving the head with her moist tongue, looking me straight in the eye...I would like to say that this went on for hours, with me holding off my orgasm to provide her with the pleasure that she so richly deserved, but the sad fact is that the sight of her wonderful, full breasts, the warmth of her mouth on my penis, and those mesmerizing eyes on mine caused me to explode with the first devastating orgasm of my young life. She swallowed most of it, acting as though I had brought her a feast, licking her lips, and with the overflow, she rocked me again by saying "You need to rub this on my titties," opening her shirt completely, sitting up tall to grant me access, and guiding my trembling hands to smear my own cum on her glorious erect nipples.
She moaned in earnest once my hands were on her breasts, and then guided her right nipple to my lips. "Suck it. Suck my nipples. Yes, that's my boy. That's right. Harder. Tweak the other one. Pull on it. Ohhhhh. Ohhhhh." Her breath coming in short gasps, as I later learned she was violently rubbing herself, out of my sight, her right hand hidden by the edge of the bed. Together we brought her to orgasm, her first of the day, me tasting my own semen on her nipples, sucking and tweaking, and her rubbing herself.
My every sense seemed to be heightened and engaged, smelling and hearing and feeling and tasting, as though my life 'til then had been spent sleepwalking, wasted in a muffled dream. I became erect again almost immediately, and she wasted no time in shedding her panties, and mounting me, the joining of our sex hidden by the folds of her skirt, her blouse completely open now, and off one creamy white shoulder...it is sight that is burned in my brain, and to this day, that scene plays out in my head, as the interior accompaniment to most of the orgasms that I achieve. It is sad, in a way, that nothing, noONE, since, has ever affected me as much as that illicit first sex with my succulent aunt. Ever after, sex has been a disappointment, and so I replay the video of that first encounter in the privacy of the room behind my eyes, and thusly achieve... moments of ...bliss.
The ogre got home that afternoon around three, and greeted her with his customary warmth:
"What are you doing here? I thought you worked Wednesdays?"
"Class was cancelled so I came home and Claude fixed me a delicious lunch."
"Goody for him," and he orced off to sit in his DISGUSTING recliner, in front of the TV, first 6 pack of the evening in hand. That´s right, he would routinely take a six of Silver Bullets with him to his throne, and then have one of us bring him his second six 90 minutes later. Like a fucking clock. The good part of this charming pattern was that effectively we had the house to ourselves by seven each evening. Typically, we would all watch some crap on the TV, SciFi channel ONLY for him, Auntie and I sharing the sofa. Love of science fiction was about the only thing Uncle Paul and I had in common. In a sense, of course, we were now "sharing" the same woman, but according to Lexy, "He really lets me go to waste..."
Another irritating trait of Uncle Paul, was that he always left the AC on STUN. So we would freeze when he was home, and would often be huddled under a flannel quilt as we watched TV. That first night, we took extremely juicy advantage of both the coverage of the quilt, and his alcohol-induced stupor.
Around seven, she said "Well, I'm going to go put on my PJs"
Paul gave a little snore-grunt in response. As she left the room, she turned off the overhead light, leaving the room dimly illuminated by the blue glow of the TV. She emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, wearing a long, sleeping Tee, that came down to mid thigh. She slid under the quilt alongside me, smelling pleasantly of facial soap and toothpaste. Not a word was exchanged, but I immediately placed my hand on her thigh, and started caressing her bare skin. I heard her breathing quicken, saw her glance to her sleeping husband, not three feet away, and shift her right leg up on the couch, toward me, granting me access to her silky inner thigh. I took this to be a subtle "go- ahead," and so I slid my hand down between her legs, moving in small, light circles, gradually working my way up toward her molten core. Through it all, she stared fixedly at the TV screen, though, later we both joked that we had little idea of what was on...Maybe one of the "Planet of the Apes" movies. At some point, the edge of my hand reached her, and I left it there, making a gentle sawing motion, loving the feel of her silky wetness. After some time, she clenched her thighs together, her body, shuddering, rigid. I felt like I had just won the Boston Marathon, or discovered the cure for cancer.
The next afternoon, she called me and asked if I had any interest in helping her pick out a swimsuit at the mall. Of course I said yes, that I'd love to, and we decided to meet at Robinson-May. I hopped on Paul's mountain bike, only used when I was in town, and met her 15 minutes later, only slightly sweaty from the ride. She gave me a chaste peck on the cheek and a hug by way of greeting and we proceeded into the cool maw of the department store. We ultimately decided on a fairly conservative, white, one piece, a racer backed Speedo that was cut quite high on the legs, and thus had the effect of elongating them. While shapely, her legs were not long, and the effect was quite pleasing. She had brought along a pair of high-heeled sandals and I thought she looked stunning. I thought she looked good in ALL of the suits, but being a woman, she had a very self-critical streak in the bathing suit department! It took quite awhile to make the selection, but I remember experiencing none of the impatience that would have marred a like excursion with my sister. I was happy to just be there, and play boyfriend for the afternoon. As we walked out to her jeep, I said, soto voce, "I dare you to cut the lining out of that suit..."
"Oh, yeah, well I double dare you to climb into the jeep for about 10 minutes." As she groped for the keys she said, "Huh, I seem to have left my underwear...in my bag. That's odd"
We climbed in and I wasted no time in reaching for her. The jeep was a soft top, with those crappy plastic windows which afforded a modicum of privacy. We locked lips, kissing greedily, and I worked my hand inside her top, fumbling with the front closure on her bra. She leaned back, so that she was across the seat, the gear shift poking her in the side, so that I could reach all of her. I played with her breasts, savoring the fullness, the perfect gourd shape, the exquisitely-responsive nipples, while reaching my right arm down to raise her skirt. The whole situation was thrilling, and the semi-public nature of it made it even more so. She told me later that a young bicycle-mounted mall security cop had ridden slowly by, stopped, and peered intently through the windshield. She locked eyes with him, and he stayed, watching, watching me groping her breast until she achieved orgasm, then he saluted and rode off. That experience awoke in her an exhibitionist streak that would shape much of our activity over the following days.
