Aunt Jane Revisited Ch. 01

What I'm about to tell you happened a few years ago when I was twenty-four. I'd been married since I was nineteen -- far too young, I now realise -- and my wife and I had always had problems, as well as lots of good times.

Luckily we'd decided not to have children until we were sure we'd stay together, had a comfortable home, and I was earning a decent salary.

It never happened. We split up after five years of marriage that included two years of boredom and drift. We sold the house, split the proceeds, and went our separate ways. We remained friends and occasionally saw one another but moved on to different things.

A few months after the break up I went on a trippy tour around the UK. I had some money saved and no desire to stay in the town where I'd come to feel completely stale. I visited my closest friends, then some old school mates I'd sort of kept in touch with, then my brother and parents.

It was my mother who suggested I call on Aunt Jane, who lived in a tiny Shropshire village and had been widowed two years before.

My mother's youngest sister, 'Auntie Jane' had lived in the next street to ours and often sat for me and my brother until she moved North with her husband when I was eleven. We travelled up to visit her, as a family, every so often.

I'd always liked her. She was quiet but good fun, with a dry wit and a subtle, sensual presence, which disturbed me ever so slightly in my adolescent years.

As I drove up to the small, plain cottage I had no idea what was in store for me.

Jane made me feel welcome, and we immediately relaxed into one another's company. She was just as I'd remembered her - in fact, at forty two, she seemed younger than when I'd last seen her, at my wedding over five years before.

So easy was the atmosphere between us that I believed her when she said I could stay for as long as I liked. Taking her at her word, I had the run of the house whilst she commuted daily to the next town where she worked as a legal secretary.

Some evenings we spent together, chatting or playing board games in her sitting room, working our way through a variety of single malt whiskies; other times I'd keep to my room, watching television, or spend a couple of hours in the one pub in the village whilst Jane entertained gentleman callers.

This was just the change that I needed after the sustained tension of an unsuccessful marriage and the pent-up frustration of a drifting, unfocused existence.

But I was getting more and more curious about my aunt's men friends, and perhaps a bit jealous.

To start with, I was intrigued by the casual, uncomplicated way she had arranged her personal life around my protracted visit. On the second evening of my stay she had said:

"Oh, I've got a friend coming round about seven tomorrow evening. We'll need to be alone. If you want to stay in that's fine with me, but I won't be around for a couple of hours. Or you might think it's a good time to try the real ale at the Black Swan. I can recommend it."

So the pattern was set: two or three evenings a week she would entertain one of these men in her bedroom, usually giving me a day's notice of her plans; most of the rest of the time that she wasn't working we would spend together.

When the change came it came swiftly -- on the surface, anyway, but it didn't take a genius to realise that it had been hovering in the wings, gradually drawing closer, since my first day at the cottage

The third Saturday that I was there we drove to the cinema to see Armageddon. Not really my kind of film, Jane remarked on the way back, but I enjoyed it anyway. So had I. The mood was set.

We made a late, leisurely lunch, then Jane said that she would go and run us a bath. She picked up a two-litre bottle of mineral water and a large carafe of wine and went upstairs.

Fine, I thought, it's happening. And a small voice, further off, added 'at last'.

We lay in the foamy water, sipping the wine, each of us exploring the other's body; and I had to admit that, despite the eighteen years between us, hers was in better condition than mine - and I was in shape.

"Alex," she announced suddenly, "I need to pee. Do you want a drink?"

There was no need to ask twice. Instinctively I moved forward and knelt up, whilst Jane stood up and bent right over in front of me, leaning on the end of the bath for support. I edged forward to put my mouth right up to her cunt and knelt back down on my haunches, drawing her beautiful arse back down with me, my lips pressed closely against hers.

"Ready?" she asked. I squeezed her thighs in reply, and she began to piss in a controlled, steady stream. I gulped it down as rapidly as I could, trying not to lose a single drop. It tasted fabulous -- there was the merest hint of cinnamon from last night's exotic dinner dessert.

When she had finished she sat back down in the bath, ran in more hot water and said:

"That felt fucking amazing, I've been wanting to do it since you came here."

"Why did you wait so long? Earlier would have been fine for me."

"Oh, you know, outstanding commitments, that sort of thing. This is the first weekend I've felt enough space to start our love affair."

She looked at me enquiringly and added:

"Do you think we can have a love affair? A real one?"

"No doubt about that. I'd say we've really got under way now, and it looks pretty good to me."

"I'm glad you said that. Stand up. I'd like to suck you off. Please."

I did as I was told. Jane eased up into a kneeling position, took hold of my cock, which had been rock hard for some time now, and took it into her mouth.

Gripping my balls with her hand and stroking the underneath of my penis she slid it in and out, taking it far back into her throat, then almost out of her, just holding it in the front of her mouth and using her lips and tongue to stimulate the most sensitive part, then easing it back in with a gently rocking rhythm.

About a minute of this was all it took before I erupted, and shot jets of spunk into her mouth. She gargled theatrically and swallowed.

"Thank you."

"Thank you."

She smiled up at me. "I'm so glad this relationship is going to be civilised."

The rest of that afternoon passed in a magical blur of the most intense sex that I had ever experienced. We fucked in all the positions we could think of, and when neither one of had an immediate inspiration we would go into the 69 position where she sat on my face and pissed in my mouth whilst we licked and sucked one another to orgasm after orgasm.

The wine and mineral water were all we needed for those few hours, and most of them I drank twice over.

From then on Jane decided that it would be fun to dress "for the occasions, so as to be ready at any time", as she put it, so when we were alone in the house together she would always remove her knickers and put on a microskirt that didn't even cover her arse and cunt fully.

But it certainly drew attention to them, and she would make sure of this by bending over in front of me in an exaggerated fashion, especially if I was trying to do some quiet reading or seemed absorbed in some TV programme.

Then I would be on my knees straight away, licking, kissing and fondling her cheeks, sucking and licking out her cunt, and playing with my tongue around her anus.

Sometimes she would simply come over to me, tell me to lie down, sit on my face, and piss herself empty into my mouth.

Soon she started to put bananas up her cunt for me to eat, from a variety of angles, and strawberries or grapes. She was a great believer in a diet rich in potassium, vitamin C, flavonoids, and sex.

But our all-time favourite activity, we agreed, was the 69 position where I drank her piss and we sucked one another off. As she said:

"It's so simple yet so fucking mind-blowing. Why doesn't everyone do it all the time? How can we all find so many other less pleasurable things to do so much of the time?"

I thought for a bit. Yes, she seemed to be right about that too ...