tagIncest/TabooSanta's Naughty Aunts Ch. 01

Santa's Naughty Aunts Ch. 01

bychristo©

AUTHOR'S NOTE-This is a continuation of a story I posted nearly 2 years ago titled, interestingly enough, "Santa's Naughty Aunt". I always meant to continue it, and now, at long last, I have. You might want to check it out before reading this story, but I do briefly explain what happened in the previous installment, so it isn't totally necessary. Unless you want to. And I hope you do. Anyway, here's the story, and there will be another installment coming very soon, I promise.


As if the holidays aren't crazy enough, with the shopping and the traffic and the non-stop Christmas carols that are like the sound of a dentist's drill to my tortured ears, I'm in considerable demand around town for people who need a stooge to play Santa Claus. It seems like every church, elementary school, and shopping center within five miles has my phone number and knows that I make a convincing St. Nick. I'm a largish individual, six-three and with a considerable circumference, so I look the part. And it's hard to turn down a chance to make little kids happy, especially since my mother is usually the one giving out my name and number so freely.

I don't think Mom would be so enthusiastic if she knew what happened the first time I put on the red suit. Two years before she'd called me at the last second because Vince Peterson, the jerk who was supposed to do the ho-ho-hoing for her church group, had fallen down his steps and broken an ankle. I bailed my mother out, but no one had told my Aunt Jess, who belongs to the same group as my Mom, that I was pinch-hitting. It turned out that this Peterson prick had been trying to get my Aunt into bed for months, and that she'd decided that THIS would be the night. Turns about my Aunt always had a fantasy about sitting in Santa's lap, but not to tell him what presents she wanted, if you get the drift.

My Aunt Jess is a sexy, busty woman with sparkling blue eyes and spiky brown hair, a relentless flirt who I'd had guilty fantasies about since the day I met her. She's the second wife of my Uncle Don, my mother's brother, so when she started taking off her clothes, not knowing that it was her nephew behind the beard, I comforted myself that what was about to happen wouldn't exactly be incest because we weren't related by blood. As if that would get me off the hook if anyone found out.

The sex was UNBELIEVABLE, made even more so because Aunt Jess didn't know that it was me she was screwing. I stayed in character, deepening my voice and telling her, "Oh, you're a naughty girl, you're very naughty indeed!" as she sat in my lap and eased her pussy up and down my shaft. Through it all she believed she was fucking Vince Peterson, and that ignorance lasted until the next day, when she called Vince, found out he was laid up, and learned from my mother that her darling nephew owned the penis that she had stroked, kissed, sucked, and fucked.

Of course she was aghast, outraged, angry. What I didn't expect was her insistence that our affair continue. We were standing in the driveway of my mother's house, Aunt Jess smoking a cigarette, and after she took a long drag she blew a cloud of smoke over my shoulder and looked at me with a coy, sexy glimmer in her blue eyes. She said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to deny myself the most incredible lover I've ever had."

"Wait, what?" I'd said with disbelief.

"I mean that you come to my house tonight, after nine, when Don goes out to watch the football game, but this time don't bring the Santa suit. I think fucking you should be enough of a taboo without you being dressed as Santa Claus."

"You, you want to keep doing this?"

She dropped her cigarette on the street and stubbed it out. "Honey, I know how to please a man. You mean to tell me that wasn't the best fuck of your life?"

I gulped. "Yes, it was. It was incredible."

"Then come over after nine, and we'll play some reindeer games."

For the next two years my Aunt and I carried on a very quiet, but very intense affair. We only met once a month or so, usually when my uncle was away on business. I knew what I was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong. But when you've fantasized about a woman since you were a kid, a gorgeous, sexy, unattainable woman, and add to that the incest taboo that should have raised a red flag the size of a football field, well, it's hard to resist that siren call. Especially when she calls you on the phone and says, "Baby, I'm so wet for you right now."

It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. "Are you? Are you indeed" I said, feigning indifference.

"Don just left, he's going deer hunting tomorrow and he's spending the night at a friend's cabin. I'm here all alone..."

Already my cock was plumping. "Well, I don't have any plans..."

"You do now, honey."

Twenty minutes later I was at Aunt Jess's house, kneeling on Aunt Jess's carpet, my head between Aunt Jess's legs. My tongue burrowed into her moist pussy, her hips grinding slowly as I licked and nibbled at her. I looked up and she was smiling at me, her long-nailed fingers stroking my hair, her brown nipples stiff with excitement.

"Are we going to enjoy our Christmas tradition again this year?" she asked.

"Mmm-hmm," I murmured as I closed my lips around her clitoris. Last year we'd re-enacted our first encounter, I dressed up like Santa and she pretended that she was a little girl who wanted to tell me what she wanted under the tree this year. Some pretty twisted stuff, I know, but when you're screwing your uncle's wife, well, it's all a bit twisted.

Aunt Jess closed her eyes, a dreamy smile on her face, and ground her pussy in my face. "I'll show you what a good little girl I've been."

My tongue flicked over her clitoris, and I paused long enough to say, "I thought you were a naughty girl."

"Maybe just a...a little bit," she moaned. I sucked on her button and licked her for all I was worth. Her magnificent breasts lolled heavily on her rib cage, and I reached up and gently caressed them as I brought my Aunt to orgasm with my tongue. She sighed, sighed again, and then her dark blue eyes opened and looked down at me with fearsome intensity. "Oh, baby, Timmy, baby..." Her eyes closed and she shook all over, her juggs jiggling deliciously in my hands. "Oh, baby!"

When her quivering hips slowed I rose from my task, wobbled on my knees until I was in position, and slowly fed my erection into her pussy. "I love how you're always so hard for me," she said through gritted teeth as I penetrated her. "I love how you're so...fucking...HARD!"

When my penis was buried inside her I shut my eyes and tried to find the strength to tell her that this time, THIS TIME, had to be the end of it. Eventually we had to get caught. And if we got caught...I didn't want to think about it. It would destroy my uncle, my parents...and of course it would be a nightmare for myself. But every time I mentioned the potential for disaster, Aunt Jess dismissed the possibility out of hand. "I don't want to stop fucking you, honey. Do you want to stop fucking me?"

"No..." I always said, because she usually asked the question when I was in the position I was now, sliding in and out of the tight, humid cavity between her legs. The sex was sooo good, it was so good that I was willing to take the risk, break the taboo, risk the wrath of the gods.

I slowly moved my hips, looking down at the stick moving in and out of her luscious body, and had to look away. I looked up and there was Aunt Jess staring at me, her dark eyes glowing with lust and mischief. "You dirty boy, fucking your Aunt."

"Please, don't say that," I panted, as I started thrusting faster.

"But it's true, you shouldn't be fucking me, I'm your Aunt, we're not supposed to be doing this," she teased. She loved playing the naughty girl, maybe that's where her Santa fetish came from, her desire to make up for her transgressions in the way she knew best. "You shouldn't be fucking me, honey."

"Aunt Jess, please." She still insisted that I call her AUNT Jess, not just her name, to both maintain the thrill of this illicit affair and to keep everyone else from suspecting a thing.

"You shouldn't be fucking me with that big, thick cock," she moaned, stroking my forearms with her long fingernails. "You shouldn't be pumping me like you are, slamming your cock in and out of my pussy...oh yeah, oh...you beautiful baby boy...fuck me...fuck your Aunt...that's the way I like it...oh, baby...baby..."

I thrust faster and faster, unable to control myself any longer. I was getting closer, so close, I was going to pump my semen into this forbidden womb, when suddenly Aunt Jess panted, "Don't come!"

"What?" I groaned. In a few seconds I wouldn't be in a position to fulfill her wishes.

"Don't come in me! I..." she closed her eyes and arched her hips as my cockhead scraped some sensitive place inside her, "I want to SUCK it out of your prick!"

"Oh," I said, sounding stupid. I pulled out, took a seat on the couch next to her, and she grabbed my cock and laid out on the couch, her head in my lap. She printed kissed all over my penis before she put me in her mouth and started sucking. Her warm saliva ran down my shaft as her silky lips glided up and down my cock, and when her fingernails started playing with the sensitive ridge of skin just under my balls I knew she was anxious for me to come.

So I did. "That's it Auntie, suck that cock, suck it!" I said, giving her the encouragement she was looking for. "Suck your nephew's cock!" I felt stupid talking that way, but when a woman can tie you into knots with her tongue, you indulge her.

She pulled her mouth away and tongued my purple cockhead. "Give Auntie your come, baby boy. Come on." Her mouth engulfed me, her fingers jacked me in rhythm with her sucking lips, and I capitulated. "Oh, Aunt Jess, please," I begged as I ejaculated, "we...we HAVE to stop doing this!"

She swallowed every sticky drop of my semen. I moaned and writhed as yet another incestuous orgasm coursed through my body. When I stopped trembling Aunt Jess released her hold on my penis and rested her head on my thigh. She looked up at me, her dark blue eyes so calm and kind. "Are you sure you want to stop fucking me?"

"No, I don't want to stop," I said. "But we have to. This is wrong, this is so wrong..."

"No one will find out, honey. And come on, this isn't technically incest."

"Sure, if my mom finds out about this, I'll get off on a technicality."

Aunt Jess laughed. "Well, at least you'll get off!" When she saw my expression she stopped laughing. "She won't find out. We're both very careful, and very discreet. Right?"

"Right," I had to agree.

"We're just having some fun, that's all. Hasn't this brought us closer together?"

"Jesus, it's brought us to the point where I'm INSIDE you half the time."

She laughed again. "You know what I mean. You love me more than any of you other Aunts, don't you? More than you're Aunt Wilhelmina, right?"

It was telling that Aunt Jess had picked on that particular aunt, and used her full name. I referred to the second wife of my Uncle Carl as Aunt Billie, the name she used. I guess if your given name was Wilhelmina you'd find a nickname too. My Aunt Billie and Aunt Jess had quite a bit in common, so much in common that it was perhaps understandable that they wouldn't get along. Both were second wives, both were very attractive, and...well, I guess that's all it takes for women to take a dislike to each other, although these two beautiful woman took every opportunity to snipe at the other. My Uncle Carl met Billie after my Uncle Don met Jess, but Carl and Billie got married first, stealing the Jess's thunder, as she wanted her wedding to be the family focus of attention that year. That got the feud off and running, and it had continued strong for the last eight years.

So I played it safe when I said, "I'm definitely closer to you than Aunt Billie."

"What a silly name. She sounds like a goat."

I might have played it safe, but I wasn't playing along. "I should be getting home," I said, ignoring that last jibe.

As I dressed Aunt Jess lit a post-coital cigarette and crossed her legs. "Of course you're playing Santa for our church group again this year?"

"Of course."

"I'm on the cleanup committee again. Well, I am the cleanup committee. So I'll be the last one out of the building. I'm thinking we can keep out tradition alive."

I swallowed hard. "You mean, right in the hall?"

She dragged on her cigarette and nodded. "Mmm-hmm. That's what I want for Christmas, honey. I want to show Santa what a good girl I've been."

"OK," I said, already excited. "But we have to be careful."

"We will be, honey. I promise."

*****

The next two days passed with little to comment upon. Work, traffic, shopping. I'm always late with my Christmas shopping, and this year was worse that usual. I don't have that much shopping to do, either. My Mom and Dad, my two older sisters, a niece and a nephew. And then there's the grab bag gift. Instead of buying every aunt, uncle, and cousin a gift, my dad throws everyone's name in a hat and assigns a person for you to get a gift for. It sort of slipped my mind that year, until my dad called me and said, "Don't you want to know who you got in the grab bag?"

"Oh, right. Who?" I hoped it would be Aunt Jess, as I already had her gift safely tucked away in my pants.

"Your Uncle Carl." I frowned. I didn't have a clue what to get him. But when my dad said, "And Aunt Billie got you," I actually winced.

"Any idea what Uncle Carl might like?" I asked.

"Nope, and I have no interested in finding out," Dad said. He's never taken a cotton to Mom's youngest brother, perhaps because he's a borderline nut. "Maybe you should ask Aunt Billie. And if you do, find out what she might like." He sounded morose. "I got her in the grab bag."

"Oh. You have any ideas?"

"Are you kidding? After what Carl got her last year?"

"Good point."

"Look, she already asked me what to get you, so you could drop some hints, give her some ideas. I told her to call you up and see if you wanted to go to lunch with her next week, she works downtown too. That should solve both your problems. And maybe solve mine too."

Lunch with Aunt Billie. Innocuous enough, unless Aunt Jess found out. Then it would hit the fan. Oh well, I'm getting good at clandestine Aunt meetings. I could keep this one under wraps too.

She called the next day, I heard that breathy voice said, "Hi, Timmy? This is Billie."

My hand gripped the phone just a bit too tight. "Hi, how are you?"

"Confused, like you. You talked to your dad? I have you in the grab bag, and I have no idea what to get you."

"Well, I could just tell you. I've actually had my eye on..."

"No, no. It's terrible that I only see you once or twice a year. An aunt should have a closer relationship than that with her nephew." I was glad she couldn't see the expression on my face. And when she said, "You mother says you see your Aunt Jess all the time, you and her go to dinner occasionally and you help out with her church group, and that makes me feel like I'm left out...are you OK?"

I tried to stop coughing. "Fine, I'm fine," I croaked. "You live further away, you're busy, don't feel bad about it."

"Well, I do. So why don't we meet for lunch tomorrow, just to talk. I have some ideas for what you can get Carl. He's a pain to shop for, so I won't give away my best ideas, but I think I can help you."

We made a date for noon the next day, and at the stroke of twelve I was standing in the foyer of a popular downtown eatery, so nervous my palms were sweating. Hey, no big deal, just lunch with my aunt. Piece of cake.

And then I saw her, and it was like the temperature in the room went up twenty degrees. Every man in the room turned to look at her, because she is well worth looking at. Aunt Billie is about 40, a tall, elegant woman with light blonde hair that curls up at her shoulders. Today she wore a bright red suit, in keeping with the holidays, and her skirt was just short enough that you wished it was an inch shorter. She saw me, smiled with her bright red lips, and gave me a little wave.

A wave I very nearly missed, because I wasn't looking at her hands, or her legs, or her eyes. I was staring at her breasts. I couldn't help it. It's not that Aunt Billie's tits are tremendously huge, although they are rather tremendous. What forced my attention to her bosom was the plain fact that, last Christmas, my Aunt Billie had undergone breast augmentation surgery, a gift from my Uncle Carl. That was the gift my father so morosely brought up when I talked to him. How exactly one asks one's wife to trade up from a 32B to a 34D without getting a frying pan to the chops I do not know. What I do know is that Aunt Billie's bosom was the big family scandal of the past year, and I as yet had not gazed upon her new and improved grillwork. And as she came up to me and gave me a hug, those magnificent mammaries demanded my attention.

"Am I late?" Aunt Billie said, checking her watch as I checked out her breasts. It was easy to do so because she wasn't wearing a brassiere. I could tell THAT because her suit had a rather deep décolletage and, well, I didn't see anything there but soft, creamy skin.

Aunt Billie said, "Timmy? Was I late?"

I tore my gaze from her breasts. "Oh, no, not at all." I winced, it sounded to my ears like I said, "No, not tit all." Thankfully she didn't pick up on it. I think.

"My goodness, look at you," she said. "You look so handsome, all dressed up." She reached up and gently tightened the knot of my tie. Her fingernails lightly scratched my cheek. "You could use a shave," she said with a smirk.

"I'm actually letting it grow for a few days, it makes wearing my Santa beard a little less itchy."

"Oh, that's right, from what your mother says you've practically BECOME Santa Claus." She reached out and tickled my belly with her long nails. "I think you need to put on some pounds to fill that suit." My cock gained five pounds just from the touch of her fingernails.

The hostess arrived and seated us. For the rest of our lunch we talked about Christmas, potential gifts for my Uncle (the best suggestion being a round of golf at a rather pricey local course) and, unfortunately, her breasts.

I just couldn't help it, I mean they were RIGHT THERE, two magnificent globes just peeking out from her suit jacket. Maybe five or six times I felt my attention drawn down to the dark canyon of her cleavage, my brain whispering, "Is that a nipple? Really, come on, I think I see nip!" My eyes couldn't help but obey.

The check arrived, and before she could move I snapped it up. "I've got tit..." I said, and I really SAID it this time, there was no hiding it. I quickly corrected myself, "...it, I've got it, the bill," but Aunt Billie was laughing.

"This whole time you've been looking at me with this INTENSITY on your face," she said, still giggling. "I mean, I could practically hear you thinking, 'Don't look down, don't look down...' "

My face felt like it was on fire. "I am SO sorry, I'm absolutely mortified, I can't tell you how sorry and mortified I am..." I stuttered.

"Honey, don't be embarrassed! If I didn't like the attention I never would have had my tits done. And I wouldn't dress the way I do." She smiled at me and touched my hand. "I would have been upset if you hadn't looked."

"But I'm not supposed to look, you're my Aunt...this is just a bad subject for us to be discussing."

She sighed. "Well, maybe you're right. I apologize. But I don't want you to apologize. It's my fault, not yours."

Her fault for having breasts that Michelangelo himself might have sculpted, my fault for being, well, male. I paid the check, she insisted on leaving the tip. "This was nice," she said. "We should do it more often."

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