A Good Shag

"Do you want a hand up aunty?" she reached out and took him in her hands, gently caressing.

"No thanks, not after this lovely thing."

Gerry was responding to her touch, growing firmer by the minute.

"I meant to get up from the floor."

"I suppose."

She moved her hand to take his arm, he was up again already. As she sat almost ready to rise, she took hold of it again.

How many of you girls knew about oral sex in the sixties? No? Well neither did I until I saw aunty take his woody and damn near swallow it. She was sucking for all she was worth and his hips made sure he was going in and out of her mouth. He groaned and she pushed him so he came out of her mouth. He hit her full in the face with it, and then it went on her nightie.

Aunty just licked her lips, got up and went to the bathroom. I went to Gerry and took it in my hand, I took a little lick, getting the drip from the end, it was alright I suppose, but I wasn't desperate to try what aunty had done.

Gerry's train to Birmingham was the first to depart on Saturday, and we were all at Dawlish station with a bit of time to spare. Both aunty and I had been 'serviced' the same as Thursday morning before leaving the caravan. Aunty sat separately from Gerry and me on the deserted bus to Dawlish, and we made full use of the privacy, kissing, groping and fondling.

Seriously, I was breaking my heart inside, if Gerry had asked me I would have gone with him stupid as it might seem,

On the station aunty said she wanted a chance to say goodbye and they found a quiet private corner. I stood in front with my back to them, and aunty got down in front of him, unbuttoned him and did that thing with her mouth. Only with me standing close to them she couldn't push him away. After, she tucked him away, and stood, a touch of lippy and a final kiss, before standing away to let me say my goodbyes.

I wanted to kiss so passionately, by my sadness at the parting made it a tearful event, and the tongues he parted with were aunty's, Oh, I kissed him, I said goodbye, but my heart was not in it. I turned my back as the train pulled away; I couldn't bear to see him go. Just a few minutes later the Paddington train pulled in and we boarded, we had a compartment to ourselves.

Aunty comforted me, dried my tears, or tried to, reminding me to think of the pleasures we had enjoyed. Slowly, with the countryside racing past us, I calmed myself. I had Gerry's address; I would drop him a note when I got home, on the special scented note paper I had been using for my letters to Tony. I vowed to get something else for Tony. We had a sandwich and cup of tea in the buffet car, and we both dozed, miserably I must admit.

I went to the toilet, that was a relief, we had, neither of us given any thought to potential consequences of our activities, I was just glad that it was now, on the way home that my visitor had arrived. It hadn't spoiled the holiday, and there was no lasting damage.

Aunty had a few days worry, and at three days late she hit the gin. Only breathing a sigh of relief the following weekend.

Just once after, we had a visit from Gerry, he came down to London for weekend, he and I went to stay with aunty at her flat and obviously we took full advantage. This time with French letters to hand!

Plans were made for next year's holiday, we received a Christmas card, and then it was over.