Aunt Jean

He stopped the car in the usual spot he parked on the driveway. The normal thing for him to do, was to go into the family room and watch the big TV. There was a music show on cable he watched every Friday night when he didn't have a date or wasn't at some party, which was usually every freakin' Friday night. His last date was three months ago, with a girl he had no interest in at all. He had asked her out, in essence as practice. It had bored the hell out of him, and the girl had known it. She had a awful time too.

When he entered the family room he was surprised Aunt Jean was sitting oddly in her usual spot in the upholstered arm chair. Her posture was usually lousy, but he had never seen her slouched so much. His eyes went to the dark blue glass in her hand. "Hi, Aunt Jean." He didn't watch but out the corner of his eye he didn't see her move or her hand rise to hold her dorkwad glasses and profile in the usual attempt to cover most of her freak eye.

"Hi." She took a drink, tilting the glass high. She lowered it. "I s'pose you're gonna... wash that music show."

Ron sat on the couch. She was half wasted. No, probably fully wasted. He had never seen her truly drunk, then again he had never tried to rate her drunkeness either. "Don't have to. Watch what you're watching.

"I'm not washin' it... anything."

"Mind if I switch it?"

"No... swish it."

He took the remote from the occasional table by her chair. He sat on the couch and changed the channel. He heard her finish her drink, not the swallowing but the clinking ice in the afterwards shake of the glass.

"You... you wash her a lot, don' chew?"

Ron's gut tightened. He looked at her. Another new oddity. Her right leg was folded up, her little foot in the thick white sock flat on the cushion, her knee was slightly wagging back and forth. "Pardon me?"

Jean stopped her leg not even sure why it had started moving. "Nothin'." She took a deep breath, then stood up. "I'm goin' ta bed." The glass slipped out of her hand, it didn't break just bounced on the carpet, and tossed its five ice cubes out. "Fuck." She knelt down and then went into a crawling position to move around to gather the ice cubes.

Ron moved quickly. He crouched down and reached for one of the cubes. He smelled whiskey. Jean slapped his hand away.

"I'll pick 'em up." She put the last two cubes back in her glass, stood up and went to the kitchen.

Ron was shocked that she had slapped his hand when he had been trying to help. That was another first, as was her very obvious weaving as she walked, it had never been that bad, and he had definitely never her heard her say "damn" let alone "fuck." He knew it had to be related to what happened earlier in the day. She wasn't supposed to be home! He sat on the couch and watched the music show until it ended at 1:00AM, wondering the whole time if things would ever be normal again with Aunt Jean.

He turned off the TV and then switched off the family area lamp. He flicked the switch for the little tread lights as he headed upstairs he heard it. Aunt Jean was crying again - intermittent sobbing, taking quick breaths in between. He figured she always tried to stifle the sobbing by taking breaths so it would mostly be silent except for the breaths. Now there was some momentary sobbing, then she moaned like some little girl crying. He frowned. She was supposed to be at the fuckin' grocery store! It was all his fault. He took the last few stairs to the second floor. He saw her door was open a crack. A small lamp must be on. Maybe from the dresser. He listened to her odd sobbing-moaning.

"Hmmmm-huh-huh-uhhhhhh."

He started towards his room down the hall away from hers. More sobbing. He stopped in front of his closed bedroom door. He knew it was his fault this time. She was supposed to be shopping! He opened the door and took one step inside his room and halted again. He muttered, "Fucking shit." He exhaled, then turned around. He should apologize again, maybe ask if she wanted anything, maybe even ask if she needed to talk. He exhaled a whisper, "Fucking shit."

He walked towards her door. It had to be a little lamp on in there. The light wasn't very bright. When he cleaned the room before she arrived this summer, there were those two little lamps on the dresser. He exhaled another whisper, "Fucking damn." At her door he tapped on it with his fingertips. There was that weird sob again. He tapped louder. The last thing he wanted to do was scare or surprise her with a loud knock. He whispered, "Aunt Jean?" He tapped a little harder again with his fingertips, while whispering her name once more. The tapping still wasn't very loud but doing it harder made the door swing open.

He froze. It wasn't Aunt Jean on the bed! Wait. It was Aunt Jean on the bed! He didn't know it but his face was a carbon copy of Jean's this morning in his room. In fact everything was reversed. Aunt Jean was naked on the bed and she was beating off!

From his vantage point he had an angled view of the bed in the large bedroom. She was in a sort of half doggy position, her ass up but her head and shoulders down on the mattress. Her head was turned to the side facing towards him. Her eyes were closed. Her large black framed glasses were off, and her hair had fallen over her freak eye hiding it. It was one reason he had thought it was someone else. Her face looked totally different and every other part of her except for her forearms and ankles didn't look like anything he had imagined if he had ever even tried to imagine her body.

She had a very hot apple ass, in her position her shoulders weren't hunched over so her back had a nice, sleek sloping curve down to her shoulders. He could see the underside of one breast, pressed against the mattress. It wasn't showing much at all, just a small bulging curve, not big by any means, but it was obvious she wasn't totally flat chested which was the impression most of the time, or maybe he had never really looked at her chest, or maybe it was because of her usual hunched posture. Her thighs were larger than her calves but not like the thunder thighs that would sort of go with her calves and fat ankles. Even her calves somehow looked different without her sneakers and socks, not fat, but much slimmer, smooth, toned, maybe it was the socks and fat ankles that just made them look odd before this.

She was panting and moaning, not weird sobbing. His visual angle didn't give him any decent view of her pussy, but her arm was under her and it was obvious her fingers were playing with it, rubbing her clit nearly frantically. She started to tremble more. Her good eye opened and saw him a moment later. The biggest shock to him, even greater than seeing her like this was that she didn't scream. She kept looking at him, staring, almost glaring anger in her good eye. Her hand worked faster, almost viciously. Her eye closed as her breathing got more ragged. He saw her jaw clench and her lips pulled back, not in a smile, more of a grimace. He could hear hissing in-out, in-out, as she drew air in and exhaled it. Her eye opened again and gazed at him with definite anger.

"You... watch... Eileen.... a... a... a.... lot... but... but not... not... not girls... like... like... me... me. No... no one does... would." Jean shut her eyes tight as her body started twitching hard. Uh... uh... uh... UH!" She began shaking harder, then the twitching became jerking. Her face turned into her pillow. She worked her fingers harder. Her other arm was shaking as it reached back. Her fingers slid between her buns into her deep crack, it looked like two fingertips were circling her anus pressing firmly. "Ohhhhh... oh... uh... UH!" Her body started convulsing. "AHH!"

Ron finally came to his senses. He grabbed the doorknob and had enough mind not to slam it shut as he backed quickly into the hall. He hadn't even realized he had stepped inside. He turned and headed to his room at a quick pace. He got to his room and didn't slam that door closed either but quickly pressed the lock button. He sat on edge of the bed in the dark.

What the fuck just happened?! He tried to get his brain working. His hand absentmindedly cupped his balls. It took him a few seconds to realize he had a throbbing hard-on. He yanked his hand away. How could she have a body like that?! And her face! That didn't even look like her! He realized he was breathing fast too, not as fast as her and probably not for the same reasons, maybe similar reasons, at least a little, but the rest of it, was... shock. Jeezuz! I just stood there! She's going to tell Dad this shit! How the fuck could I know she was freakin' playin' with herself?! FUCK! He tried to remember everything. She hadn't told him to leave, to get out, she hadn't screamed when she saw him. She had said something about Eileen, watching Mrs. Gregerson, but not her. Something like that.

THAP! THAP! THAP!

Ron's eyes almost popped out of his head and he jumped up from the bed.

Jean pressed both her palms against the door, not pushing, just pressing. "I don' care! I jus' don' care anymore!" She panted few more breaths. Raised her hand and slapped the door again. THAP! THAP! THAP! "Do ya hear me?! I JUS' DON' CARE ANYMORE!" She turned around and weaved back to her room. She backhanded her bedroom door shoving it. Wham! It slammed shut. She had switched on the bedside table lamp, so now when she turned off the tea lamp on the dresser, she had light to her bed. She got in, pulled the covers up, switched off the lamp, turned onto her side, her hand slid between her thighs, her finger slowly stroked up and down her slippery labia a dozen times before she dozed off.

Ron finally undressed and got into bed at 2AM. He tossed and turned not able to sleep. At 3AM, he turned onto his stomach, shoved a pillow under his aching hard cock. For five minutes he fucked the pillow. It was Aunt Jean's perfect ass and he pumped a full load into her hot, tight asshole.

*

What Ron had feared would happen the next morning, didn't. He figured there would be another "sit down" in the kitchen, or worse, a long distance call to his dad. Neither happened.

At 9AM he had been awakened from a deep sleep by Aunt Jean knocking on his door. When he said, "What?" She had just asked him, as she usually did, if he wanted breakfast. He said, "No thanks," and heard her pad down the hall. When he had finally gotten downstairs she had been cleaning the refrigerator, her hair in the usual half-assed pony tail which didn't include the hair that hung down in front of her ears and over her cheeks, her large plastic frame glasses on, wearing her uniform of hemmed, baggy blue jean shorts and bulky tee shirt. It again seemed impossible that the hot babe he saw finger fucking herself last night could possible have been the same girl, well, woman. Actually, she had looked like a girl his age.

He asked if there were any jobs she wanted him to do and she said no, since he had mowed the lawn a few days ago. He said he was going over to Tom's to play some vid games. She said, "Okay. Will you be home for lunch or dinner?" He said he wasn't sure. He said she should just eat without him if he wasn't home when she wanted to eat. It was all normal, in fact, repetitive. It could have been any Saturday last summer.

He left and had to admit he was terribly relieved, then wondered why she didn't seem worried that he'd tell Tom or someone else about what he had seen the night before. Maybe she somehow knew he wouldn't tell anyone. Maybe she thought he wouldn't say anything because she had seen him beating off too, so if he told anyone, she'd tell on him? He also remembered her screaming that she didn't care anymore. He hadn't been and still wasn't sure what that had meant exactly. What didn't she care about?

The rest of the weekend and the next week was normal. Aunt Jean never really looking at him straight on, her hand pretending to hold her profile but really just adding her fingers to the thick frames of her glasses to hide more of her freak eye.

The only thing different was that on the two late mornings when Mrs. Gregerson sunned at her pool and he had started gawking at her, all he could think of was Aunt Jean's body. Plus standing at the window just made him feel guilty. Each time he had only watched for a few minutes and left his prick, which was definitely hard, untouched. Although the week had been "normal" he was glad that there was a party on Friday night. Tom's parents were out of town, there'd be beer, maybe someone would bring Bushmills, maybe some weed. Tom had told him Cindy was coming too.

* * *

Chapter 2

Ron killed the beer and crushed the empty can. His fifth. He was angry and frustrated with himself. Staying at the party would just make it worse. "I think I'm gonna split."

Josh looked at his friend. "Hey, stick around. Jack said he was goin' to get some Bushy, from that guy he knows. It's only midnight or so, Ron."

Tom chuckled. "I tole you, man, you shouldda made your move on Cindy earlier."

He had been drinking his second beer, and thinking his third beer would relax him enough to go and talk to her. He had wanted to for a couple months. She had broken up with her boyfriend in the spring. Then Tom had asked him to make a snack run, to take Debbie and pick some shit up. So he left the party. Debbie took forever at the freakin' grocery store, trying to get the best bang for the buck. By the time they had returned, the party had gotten very crowded. When he went to get his third beer, he saw Cindy holding Jim LaLonde's hand heading upstairs to the guest room, all smiles and giggles.

He looked at his friend Tom. "Fuck her."

Tom laughed. "No need to, man. Jim's gonna or did." He laughed again.

"Fuck off, Tom."

Ron left the party and drove straight home. He'd watch some porn in his room, anal porn and try to imagine shoving it up Cindy's hot ass. When he pulled into the driveway he noticed the family room light wasn't on. When he entered through the garage door he saw the kitchen undercabinet light on. He went and got a soda and noticed the blue glass on the counter by the sink. He picked it up and smelled it. Whiskey. He opened the soda and sat the table. He had a few sips from the can, then decided he wasn't thirsty. He put the open can in the refrigerator, then headed to his room, as usual just switching on the tiny tread lights on the stairs. He noticed there was a dim light in the upstairs hallway. Aunt Jean's door had to be open at least a little. His cock started getting hard.

He walked half way up and listened for her breathing and moaning that he had once thought was crying. He heard something but it wasn't panting. Holy fuck! It was voices. Two. Not loud. The girl's voice didn't really sound like Aunt Jean. Holy fuck! She had a guy in there! He heard crappy elevator music too. It sounded just like... Ron blinked. It sounded like the crappy soundtrack music on one of his pirated porn vids. He took a few more stairs. It wasn't just lamp light in the hallway, there was additional light, a flickering light. She had the TV on, she was watching one of his porn vids. He recognized the girl's line:

"I want it so bad! Give it to me hard! Come on, baby, fuck me... fuck me dirty."

It was an anal vid. It was the one where the girl got assfucked laying on her back on a kitchen table. The guy folded her legs back, and shoved his cock up her ass. He liked that one. He liked seeing the closeups of the girl's face. He walked up to the second floor. Aunt Jean's door was nearly fully open. He had to look. He just had to look. Having five beers helped him give in to his curiosity.

He quietly approached the doorway, stopped short of it, and gazed into her room. Aunt Jean was on the bed, pillows against the headboard, she was sitting slouched, both her legs folded up and back, held in position with her elbows resting on the back of her thighs. Her knees were nearly even with her shoulders. Just like the chick in the porn vid. He saw her cunt. Three of her fingers were rubbing an elliptical circle on and around her slit. Her other hand was lower. A couple fingers circling her asshole. Her hair was a mess, like it had been windblown, wild and sexy, like the night last week. Ron's cock was already throbbing. It had grown to a full erection on the stairs. Without thinking or possibly not able to stop himself, he moved and stood in the doorway.

Jean noticed movement at the door. She looked and saw Ron there. She stared at him for a few seconds then turned her face to the TV. Her voice was half hiss, half growl as she murmured through her clenched teeth. "I don' care. I don' care anymore."

Her hand worked her pussy faster for a dozen circuits, then her middle finger wiggled into her cunt for ten seconds fucking herself, then it slid out and rubbed speedily back and forth over her hardened clit. "Mmh... mmh." Her abdomen clenched and her body jerked. "Oh... mmmh."

Her hand at her ass quickly pulled away. She turned to look at the night table. She grabbed a tube of lubricant, then her other hand left her pussy. She squeezed a big dollop on the fingertips of her left hand. She dropped the open tube to the side. Her right hand went back to her cunt, finger rubbing her clit, her elbow pushed her folded leg farther back. Her left hand returned to her ass. Her left leg folded back even more from pressure of her elbow. Her lubed fingertips rubbed the gel around her hot anus. She stared at the TV for a half minute before her middle finger began pushing into her asshole, not really wiggling, more like undulating. She pushed it half way in. Her eyes closed and her neck arched, the back of her head pressing into a pillow against the headboard. "Mmmm.... mmmm..... mmmm."

Ron's palm was on his crotch stroking the throbbing erection inside his jeans. His body on autopilot, he took a few more steps closer to the bed. Aunt Jean's head came forward. She glanced at him for a couple seconds, then looked at the TV, then her eyes closed. It seemed she was holding her breath.

Jean pushed her middle finger as deep as she could into her ass. "Arrrhh... mmmmh." She waited a moment, then twisted it back and forth for a few seconds then slowly pulled it almost all the way out. She added a second digit and worked both in slowly. "Ooh!" Her body flinched. Then she relaxed and slowly twisted and pushed the two fingers deeper into her rectum.

Ron moved closer. He was massaging his cock through his jeans. What he was watching was a thousand times hotter than any porn vid. It was probably hotter than when he fucked either of those two girls. She wasn't his aunt, except for the freak eye. This couldn't be his dorkball aunt. He saw her give a final push to her two fingers and they disappeared into her ass. He heard a thump and looked up. The back of her head had butted the headboard. He wanted to give long sucking kisses to her ached neck. His hand unbuttoned the front of his jeans, then pulled down the zipper.

"Urrrrrhhh... mmm... mmmh." She started twisting her fingers in her ass. "Oh... mmmh... mmmmmm." The finger at her clit started rubbing faster, firm strokes side to side. "Oh... umm... mmh." Her head flopped forward. She noticed movement out the corner of her eye. She looked left. Ron had his hand in his underwear. She could see the dark red mushroom head above the elastic. She kept her eyes on it as her two fingers in her ass began moving in and back, in and back... her mouth opened, she was taking ragged breaths.

He saw her staring at his crotch. He didn't care anymore either. He stepped over to the foot of the bed blocking the TV. Her eyes followed him. He stared at her asshole and cunt. One hand pushing fingers up her butt, the other hand had a speedy finger on her surprising large clit, unless he really wasn't seeing it right. Her fast finger might be causing some sort of illusion.