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I’m Kevin Martin, I’m 23 and I live in Surrey, just south of London. I’ve always been close to my Aunt Angela — but we got a whole lot closer recently.
My mum’s 50, and she has two sisters. Angela’s the baby of the family, 46, very bubbly, and when I was growing up she was always the ‘naughty’ aunt: the one who bleached her hair and wore too much make-up; the one whose skirts were too short and whose tops showed too much cleavage; the one who’d buy me sweets and chocolate despite mum’s disapproval; the one who told me loads of filthy jokes, and who called me ‘Kev’, another thing my mum disapproved of. I get the impression that in her younger days she was a bit too friendly with the opposite sex for her family’s liking, but when I was a kid she was married to Uncle Norman, and the mother of the beautiful Cara, my cousin who’s the same age as me.
This is what Aunt Angie was like: one day when I was in my teens I was sitting in the quiet house alone, my parents having gone out for the day. I didn’t expect them home for hours, and I was boldly sitting on the front room couch flicking through a girlie magazine I’d bought third-hand from another kid at school. I was just examining the centrefold with enthusiasm when suddenly, right in my ear, I heard a voice say, “Blimey Kev, look at the tits on her.” I nearly shat myself, it was such a shock! I whirled round and there was Auntie Angela, leaning on the back of the sofa, the dark gulley between her boobs inches from my face, gazing at the magazine. Then she calmly moved round to sit next to me and took it out of my hands, leafing through it. She turned to me and said, “So Kev, which one of these d’you like more, the hairy blonde or the redhead with the shaved twat?” At first I shrivelled up with embarrassment, but after a few minutes I actually began to enjoy myself, feeling quite grown up discussing the merits of each model with my adult aunt. Despite my occasional sideways glances at her generous tits there really was nothing sexual about it. In those days I didn’t think of middle-aged ladies in that way; no, it was Cara I fancied something rotten back then.
This story really starts a couple of months ago, at Cara’s wedding. Uncle Norman had dropped dead several years earlier, from heart failure (my dad told me with a wicked grin that Angie had shagged him to death!), but he’d been a successful businessman and had left his widow a pile of money, so she had no problems affording a white wedding for Cara. Sadly, the groom wasn’t me. I’d had a one-night fling with my cousin on the back steps of our house when we were both 18. We’d cuddled and kissed for a while, and I managed to get a hand inside her bra while she pulled my knob out and gave me a hand job. I naturally assumed we were boy and girlfriend after that, but Cara avoided me for weeks, clearly not wanting to repeat our evening of passion. Then she cleared off to university, which was where she met Slimy Stewart, as I think of him. Her fiancé oozed charm, but Aunt Angie didn’t like him either, and referred to him behind Cara’s back as ‘the snake oil salesman’.
The wedding went off smoothly, although my mum gave me some dirty looks when I kept sniggering at Aunt Angela’s whispered humorous commentary on the vicar, the groom, the bridesmaids, and just about everything else inside the church. The reception was to be held at a swanky local hotel, but my girlfriend Nathalie and I ducked out to nip back to my home to change into jeans and T-shirts — we both hate getting tarted up in suits and fancy togs. Nathtalie’s a funky black chick, as tall as me (five-eleven) and about as muscular. I met her at the gym where I work out three nights a week, and I’m very proud of her – she’s one of the best triple jumpers in the country. When Aunt Angie met her for the first time she told me Nathalie was lovely, then added with a chuckle, “and I’ll bet she’s a dirty little strumpet in bed too.”
Not that she was wrong about that. Nat and I were a bit late getting to the reception. Well, she was standing in front of me in just her bra and thong panties, and one thing led to another, and pretty soon she was slumped against the bedroom door panting while I knelt at her feet with my head lodged between her thighs. I love eating pussy, and I also happen to be very, very good at it — I’ve got the testimonials to prove it! That’s one advantage of Nat’s skin colour: unlike a white girl her face isn’t all flushed when we meet someone five minutes after I’ve gone down on her!
When we arrived at the reception Aunt Angie greeted us both with big hugs and kisses. She did look a bit flushed. She was done up to the nines, with a little black pillbox hat perched on her big blonde hair, an expensive purple cotton two-piece suit, a white silk blouse, black stockings and stiletto-heeled shoes which showed off her shapely legs to best advantage. Her complexion used to be pale and creamy, but she’s a bit red in the face these days; she ‘s put on a couple of stones in weight since her husband died, and she’s a bit more fond of wine than is really good for her. Already it looked as if she’d quaffed a couple of glasses of champagne.
Nathalie and I did all the usual wedding poker oyna reception things — gave Cara a peck on the cheek, congratulated Slimy Stewart, elbowed our way to the food buffet, then went for a bop on the dance floor. Nathalie also helped herself to a glass of champers, but I passed on that. I’ve never really developed a taste for alcohol. Apart from anything else, I’m an electrician by trade and liquor and high voltage currents don’t really mix. My mates wind me up about my abstinence, calling me the O J Kid, but they’re glad of it when we head out to a nice country pub somewhere and they need someone sober to drive them home.
The entertainment at the reception was a ’70s disco, and after dancing with Nathalie to about four trashy glam rock songs I needed a break. I’d just sat down, mopped my sweating face and taken a log draught of Pepsi when Aunt Angie came tottering over. She squealed when she saw me: “Kevin, my favourite nephew! Come and have a jive with your old auntie.” The ‘favourite’ bit wasn’t that much of a compliment — there was only me and my spotty, obnoxious kid brother to choose from, and he was away with the army in Cyprus. I really did want a rest, and tried to weakly protest as my aunt dragged me to my feet. I looked to Nat for help, but she just smiled encouragement and pushed me towards the dance floor, the cow.
The tune which had just started was the Bee Gees’ Staying Alive and, to the immense amusement of the friends and family around us, Angie threw herself into it, waving her hands in the air in ’70s fashion and swinging her hips wildly. I was almost laughing too much to dance myself. As the song ended I gratefully turned back in the direction of my seat, but as the next tune kicked in Angie grabbed my hand and pulled me back to her. It was another Bee Gees song, How Deep Is Your Love, and in keeping with the pace of the music Aunt Angela and I delicately put our arms round each other to dance to it. At least, the embrace was delicate for about the first two lines of the song.
I’d been quite relieved it was a slow number, giving me chance to catch my breath. But as the music continued Angie gradually worked her arms right around my back, pulling me closer and closer to her. In a matter of moments her big boobs were squashed against my chest, and I could feel her warm breath on my face. I kept my arms loosely around her, my hands carefully positioned in the middle of her back. Angie’s arms, however, eased their way down my body until she was quite blatantly clutching my butt cheeks in her hands. With a jerk she pulled me tighter still into her, and I felt her pubic mound press hard against my groin. She kept it there, rubbing it against me, and rested her head on my shoulder. When I glanced down I could clearly see her nipples poking stiffly against the material of her blouse.
Until that moment I had honestly never thought of Angie in any sexual way: she was just my middle-aged auntie. Suddenly, all that had changed — she was an attractive, full bodied mature woman who was kneading my buttocks with her hands, whose soft breasts were pressed to me, and whose pussy was caressing my stiffened prick with every movement we made around the dance floor. Her sweet, flowery perfume filled my nostrils and made my head spin. In alarm I glanced around to see if anybody had noticed what was happening. Apparently not — Nathalie gave me a cheery wave, and my mum gave me a warm smile, clearly enjoying the sight of her sister and her son dancing so happily together. I noticed that the bride, Angie’s daughter, Cara, had a rather amused smile on her face, but that was probably just down to the amount of champagne she’d been guzzling.
As the music ended I felt Angie’s lips brush my neck. She continued to hold me for a couple of seconds before standing back and, in a half-whisper, saying, “Thanks Kev, I really enjoyed that.” My stomach lurched in shock when I looked at her face. She had a dreamy smile and her eyes had a sort of cloudy look. The only time I’d ever seen that look on a woman’s face before was immediately after I’d screwed her or eaten her out. I walked back to my seat in a bit of a daze, wondering if my aunt really had actually rubbed herself to orgasm against me.
My seat was well away from Angie’s, but every time she caught my eye over the next half hour or so she gave me a beatific smile — I might almost have called it a loving smile. Eventually she came stumbling over and, giggling, helplessly flopped into a seat next to my mum. Angie said something about having had one drink too many, and I heard my mum mutter nastily, “No change there then.” Then in a louder voice she said, “Kevin, would you be a sweetheart and run your aunt home? It won’t take you long.” I should have seen that one coming — after all, I was probably the only person over the age of 16 at the reception who wasn’t already at least half pissed on champagne. I smiled and said it would be a pleasure, gently helping Angie to her feet. Nathalie asked if I wanted her to come with me. I smiled again and shook my head. Nat was clearly enjoying herself, and I didn’t want to drag her away.
As we headed towards the hotel exit I wondered canlı poker oyna if I should have brought Nat along: I felt a little nervous about the situation after that dance. But, I told myself, with Angie’s reputation as a good-time girl in her youth that was probably just the way she danced with any man. And the alcohol couldn’t have helped. She’d probably just been having a joke with me. It didn’t mean anything. She wasn’t really going to try anything on with her own nephew. Obviously. And even in the unlikely event that she did, well, I’d just politely tell her I wasn’t interested. Even though she was extremely alluring. And she’d made my cock as stiff as a flagpole. In the morning, when she’d sobered up, she’d thank me. And I wouldn’t think of it as a golden opportunity missed. I really wouldn’t. That’s what I told myself.
At the hotel reception Angie excused herself to go to the ladies. I went to bring my car round to the front of the hotel, but my cousin Cara, the blushing bride, appeared from nowhere and stopped me with a hand on my arm. She was clearly a bit drunk, but she smiled and said, “Kev, are you going so soon?” I told her I was going to drive her mother home, but I’d be back in about half an hour. Cara leaned back against the wall and nodded. “Oh. Good. Be quick and I’ll give you a dance. Just like the one mum gave you.” She chuckled and raised her eyebrows suggestively. I realised with shock that Cara had noticed there had been a lot more than just dancing going on between me and Angie. She rested her hand on my shoulder, and I jumped in surprise as her thumb lightly stroked my neck. “I’ve been talking to Gillian. She told me all about your, er, talent. Tongue like liquid chocolate, she said. I’m beginning to think I might have been a bit hasty knocking you back after that evening we had together on your back steps.” Gillian was one of Cara’s bridesmaids, and I’d dated her a few times in the past. She’d almost fainted with pleasure every time I licked her out. Cara pushed lazily off the wall and ran a finger down my front, stopping half an inch above my cock. “Don’t be too long…sweetie.”
I walked out to my car shaking my head with disbelief. Five years earlier Cara had given me a snog and tossed me off, then ignored me and buggered off to university — and now, on her wedding day of all times, she had apparently suddenly decided she might want to give me access to her pussy after all. I don’t think I’ll ever really understand women. My blood was still heated after eating Nathalie out earlier on and from Angie rubbing herself off on me, and with Cara’s unsubtle hint that she fancied a bit of me too I had a raging hard-on again. I helped Angie into the back seat of my car, but to be honest, as I drove her back to her place, my mind was still on her daughter: the couple of minutes I’d had her boob in my hand on that earlier night, her hand sliding up and down my cock, and what she seemed to be putting on offer to me now. I also recognised my muddled thinking: that having it away with my aunt would be somehow improper, almost like incest, yet I was more than ready to screw my cousin, her daughter.
When I pulled up outside Angie’s terrace cottage I was mildly amused at the idea that I’d thought she might jump me. I glanced in the rear view mirror – she was slumped in the back of my car, gently snoring, her double chins emphasised as her head slumped forward. I also couldn’t help noticing that her legs were splayed, and underneath her short skirt a glimpse of white thigh was clearly visible above her stocking tops. Going round to the back of the vehicle I gently woke her and helped her clamber out. She leaned against me, quietly giggling to herself. I had to find her house keys in her handbag — she didn’t seem capable of doing it — and I supported her weight up the narrow stairs to her bedroom, her breast pressing into my chest. Once there I lay her on the bed, removed her hat and shoes and began to tiptoe out of the room. I glanced back, and realised that I couldn’t just leave her lying there in her expensive wedding suit. Apart from the fact that the material would get creased, she’d be pretty uncomfortable.
As I reluctantly turned back I cursed myself for not taking up Nathalie’s offer to come with me. It would have been far more seemly for her to undress my aunt, or at least help me do it. Sitting beside Angie on the bed I switched on a small table lamp so I could see what I was doing. Then I gently stroked her forehead to get her attention, and said, “Auntie Angela, I’m going to help you out of your suit and then tuck you into bed in your undies — is that okay?”
Without opening her eyes she giggled and slurred, “You’re a good boy Kev — I’ve always thought you were special.” Her hand flopped out and her knuckles landed directly on the fly of my jeans, making my cock twitch. It had to be just accidental, I thought, her eyes were still shut. She managed to sit up for me to remove her jacket, then I began to unbutton her blouse. Suddenly my fingers felt incredibly clumsy, like pork sausages on the end of my hands. I finally managed to undo the final button, and Angie gave a throaty chuckle as I removed the blouse. internet casino My eyes fell on a quite magnificent pair of boobs, soft, creamy white skin spilling out of a half-cup bra. I could actually see the edge of one of her deep brown areola peeking out. I began to feel butterflies in my tummy, and my cock was rising rapidly, pushing against my jeans. I realised I’d started out down a very dangerous road. I nearly stopped there, just pulling Angie’s duvet over her. But as if she’d realised what I was thinking, she placed a warm, soft hand on my arm and muttered, “Now my skirt Kev — I don’t want to ruin that.”
Taking a deep breath I found the side zip of her skirt and gently tugged at the hem. It took a couple of tugs before Angie got what I meant, and lifted her bum off the bed. Once I got the skirt to her knees, though, she started kicking her legs and squealing with laughter. I wasn’t in the mood for games, and I fought it down her legs and off. Then, feeling hot and sweaty, I sat back down on the bed with a thump. It was then that I noticed Angie’s pants. They were silky and very small — much briefer than I would have expected on a woman of her age. But it wasn’t so much the material I noticed, as what lay beneath it. My girlfriend Nathalie has very short wiry pubic hair, which seems to grow in little clumps on her mound. Angie, by contrast, didn’t have so much a pubic bush as a rainforest! It was a few shades of blonde darker than her bleached head hair, and sprouted from beneath her belly button down into her knickers, and out of both leg holes onto her thighs and round towards her bum. My mouth went dry as I stared at it, and the flow of blood into my straining dick went into overdrive! I glanced up and saw Angie studying the expression on my face. She grinned and, suddenly not seeming half so drunk, said quietly, “Oh yes, I remember you like hairy girls.” She was recalling that girlie mag we’d looked at together years before.
I decided I had to get out of there, right then, before something happened that both Angie and I might end up regretting. But as I started to stand she grabbed my hand. “Kev,” she murmured, “you can’t leave my stockings on, they cost a fortune, I don’t want to ladder them.” She had probably sobered up quite enough to take her own stockings off, but my brain was so addled at that point that it didn’t occur to me. Reluctantly, moving awkwardly due to my concrete erection, I squatted down beside her. My hands shook nervously as I fumbled with her suspenders, and the pubes on her thighs actually tickled my hand. I could hear that Angie was breathing more deeply, more…sensuously. I began to think I might even cum in my pants just from undressing my aunt. I promised myself that as soon as I got back to the wedding reception I was going to drag Nathalie out of there, throw her in the back of my car and fuck her through the sound barrier, right there in the car park.
As I rolled Angie’s stockings down her legs I noticed again how shapely they were. She had big silky thighs, pretty knees, well developed calf muscles and shapely ankles. When I came to ease the first stocking off her, I was struck by what small, delicate feet she had. They were tiny, very white with toenails painted a plum colour. I have to confess, I don’t know why but I’ve always been turned on by a sexy pair of feet. For all Nathalie’s attractions, her feet are bigger than mine, and quite rough to touch. I held Angie’s little foot in my hand, just gazing at it. Then, unable to help myself, and knowing where it might lead, I lifted it to my face and sucked her toes into my mouth. I heard Angie give a hissing sigh, then she muttered, “Oh God, yes.”
Finally accepting the inevitable, I began to really enjoy Angie’s foot, sucking on her toes, tickling between them with my tongue, and stroking the foot with my hands. She scrunched down into the bed, and pushed her foot at me, further into my mouth. Releasing her toes, I licked her instep, which made her shiver, then traced my tongue up to her ankle. With a quiet chuckle, she gasped, “You’d better not just be planning to stop at my feet, love. You do know I’ve fancied you for years, don’t you?” I didn’t, but I knew I was certainly going beyond her feet. Forgetting Nathalie, forgetting Cara, I knew that in a few minutes time I was going to be eating my aunt’s pussy.
I licked up her leg, caressing the back of her knee with my tongue. That’s a sensitive spot on a woman, and she groaned with arousal and started pushing her panties down. I pulled them past her knees and off, and worked my way slowly up to her big, rippling thighs. She started whining with anticipation, but I took my time, wanting to really enjoy my first older woman. As I stroked my lips and tongue up her inner thighs, switching from one to the other, I could smell her arousal. At last I pressed my nose into her pussy, taking a deep breath, loving the aroma of a woman on heat, and the tickle of her pubes on my face. Angie’s hands scrabbled at my head, and she groaned “Oh fuckkkhhh!” I rubbed my nose up and down her slit, teasing her, until she began to growl with impatience and pull at me, trying to get me inside her. Finally, I gave her what she wanted — I slipped the tip of my tongue between her labia and licked her from bottom to top, ending by flicking my tongue across her clit. She cried out almost as if she was in pain, and squirmed down the bed at me, encouraging me to go deeper.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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