A Reunion with My Sexy Auntie Ch. 01

After finishing my education I'd worked abroad for a few years, but was pleased to be back in the UK for a while, especially as I intended to look up somebody I hadn't seen for some time. I'd worked with her when I was 18 and saving up to do a bit of travelling before I went off to University.

She was a few years older than me, but we'd got on really well. We had the same sense of humour, liked similar music and in fact had a lot in common. We'd stopped for the odd drink after work, but as an awkward 18-year-old I was a bit embarrassed to ask her out on a real date. Nevertheless, we laughed a lot together and I'd often joke: "OK Auntie, I get what you're saying..."

As a typical guy in his late teens I had my own stash of soft porn and had developed a passion for ladies in sexy lingerie and stockings. In fact some of my favourite photos were from the forties and fifties. When I worked with "Auntie" I thought she was the sexiest lady in the world. She always dressed smart -- skirts or dresses, never trousers -- and her legs were always encased in sheer nylons, the perfect MILF in my eyes.

We'd kept in touch while I was at Uni, and then while working abroad, so although I hadn't seen her for a few years it still felt as though we were good friends. Over that time she'd started her own business and moved to the countryside, so as I was now back in the UK I'd arranged to visit her and stay for a few days.

I arrived with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. However, when she answered the door and threw her arms around me in greeting, all my feelings turned to lust.

"Oh, it's so wonderful to see you again, it seems like years..." She hugged me and kissed my cheek, her long coiffed hair brushed my face and I inhaled the heady scent of her perfume.

"It's great to see you again as well, you look fabulous, and mmmm, smell incredible. Chanel No 5 as I remember."

"Always the charmer Simon, and full marks for remembering my perfume. But it really is so good to see you again, it's been so long, and I really want to hear what you've been up to over these past years. But first things first, drop your bags in the spare bedroom, then meet me on the terrace and we'll have a coffee."

A short time later I took a seat at the table on the terrace as she brought out a cafetière and two cups. Taking the seat next to mine she sat down, crossed her legs, and my eyes dropped to her knees as her skirt rode up slightly. My thoughts went back to when we worked together and I constantly tried to see up her skirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of stocking top.

I was abruptly brought out of my reminiscing: "I don't know what you've got planned for while you're here, but you must do whatever you want. Treat the house as your own, and please don't think you've got to involve me in your plans, you must have loads of places you want to visit."

I laughed, "But I've come to spend time with you, we've always got on well together, and we've got so much in common. I thought it'd be great to catch up and get to know each other again — you know, just the two of us having fun together."

"Oh, I see, that sounds wonderful Simon, I hope you won't be disappointed." She smiled, but I was sure I'd be the exact opposite if my wildest dreams were fulfilled.

"Well then, let's kick things off with a little celebration of meeting up again shall we? I'll cook us a nice meal tonight, and I'm sure I can find a suitable bottle of wine to do it justice."

My spirits rose: "Fantastic, and maybe we could get dressed up, you know, make it a bit of an occasion?"

"OK, it's a deal, I'll try to look my best..."

After unpacking, showering and changing into some smarter clothes, I came into the kitchen to find her by the cooker wearing a beautiful red patterned dress with a broad skirt. "Wow, you look gorgeous, give us a twirl — fantastic, and I love the black stockings." Although in reality I was a bit disappointed that they were seam-free and not the fully fashioned ones I adored on her.

"There's a bottle of white wine in the fridge, why don't you poor us a glass?"

As she turned back to the stove, I watched, captivated by the line of her dress as it ran down her spine and flared over her hips, hugging her curvaceous bum. Her legs were as shapely as I'd remembered and encased in those sheer black nylons were so horny.

I tore myself away and poured our drinks, handing one to her: "Cheers Auntie, you look really beautiful, I love your dress, it's stunning."

"Thank you Simon, that's very flattering, but are you trying to make me feel my age by calling me Auntie? What happened to Nicole?"

I laughed. "Remember back in the office? I used to call you Auntie when we were joking with each other, but you're right, Nicole, here's to us — and an exciting holiday." In reality, though, I was thinking that Auntie sounded much sexier — and I always called her that in my fantasies.

The rest of the evening went by in a bit of a blur. We talked and laughed, but I was so intoxicated, not by the wine, but by being with her.

We shared stories about places we'd each visited, she really was the best company, then: "So what about girlfriends Simon? Is there a special lady in your life at the moment?"

I smiled, but, maybe it was the wine this time, or I thought I'd try my luck. "Well Nicole, the thing is I haven't found the perfect woman yet — I've always wanted somebody like you..."

She sipped her wine, watching me over her glass quizzically. "That's a very sweet thing to say Simon, but I am older than you and there must be lots of girls your age that you fancy."

I laughed. "Age is irrelevant, you're my perfect woman, you're beautiful, intelligent, you dress so stylish, not like the sloppy clothes lots of youngsters wear. You're really fun to be with, we talk easily, laugh together, like the same music. In fact I've got more in common with you than anybody my own age."

Putting her glass down she stared at me: "Simon, you must have had too much to drink — what are you saying?"

Nervously I leant forwards: "I meant every word. I've been infatuated with you for as long as I can remember, whenever I saw you at work I never wanted you to leave."

She suddenly stood up: "I don't know what to say Simon, I never expected anything like this, the wine must have gone to my head, I don't know what to say."

Standing up I nervously took her hand, kissing it gently. She stroked my cheek then said softly: "We'll talk about this tomorrow." Then she left the room with a swish of nylons — her perfume lingering in the air.

* * * * *

The following morning I nervously went downstairs. I hadn't slept much, constantly going over the previous evening in my mind. Had I overstepped the mark? Had I spoilt our relationship? Was she going to tell me to leave? I found her sitting at the table where she'd left me last night, a mug in front of her.

"I've made coffee, pour yourself one."

I went through to the kitchen noting that, as usual, she looked radiant, perfectly groomed and dressed. My panic increased at the thought that she may tell me to go.

Returning with my coffee I sat down opposite her, waiting to hear the worst.

Sitting back in her chair she looked me in the eye. "I've been trying to make sense of what you told me last night, but to be honest I'm more confused now than ever."

I decided to take the initiative: "What I said to you was the absolute truth, and I don't see what's wrong with it. We're both adults, we enjoy each other's company, we're really good friends, so let's just go with the flow and see what happens?"

She looked at me intently for what seemed like an age, then smiled: "I guess you're right Simon, I'm being stupid, let's start again."

My relief was immense, a beaming smile broke out on my face. I kissed her hands: "I was so worried you were going to be angry and tell me to leave, I was terrified. Thank you."

She stood up, leant over and kissed me on the cheek: "I'm sorry if I made you feel like that, I was just so surprised and thrown off guard. Come on let's go out and get some breakfast."

The cottage was deep in the countryside and very isolated, so it took a little while to drive into the nearest town, which gave me plenty of time to study her out of the corner of my eye. I surreptitiously watched as she moved in her chair and her dress slowly raised a little higher up her legs. Her dark nylons glistened each time the sun fell on them and I watched, desperately hoping her hem would lift high enough so I could see her stocking tops. However, a lovely glimpse of thigh was the most I got before we arrived.

As she gathered her handbag I jumped out of the car and ran round to the driver's door, opening it and taking her hand to help her out. "Très galant monsieur," she smiled as she delicately took my hand and demurely swung her knees out of the car and stood up.

Damn, I was sure her dress would ride up to her stocking tops as she got out — she was clearly too experienced at that particular manoeuvre.

We walked from the car and I reached across to hold her hand. "You'll get people talking, saying I'm a cradle snatcher."

I was pleased to see her smile. "Of course they won't, they'll say who's that lucky guy with the beautiful woman?"

She giggled, but I was pleased she didn't let go of my hand. We chatted and laughed as we ambled through the town in search of a coffee shop, and I felt that she was becoming a lot more relaxed, which felt good.

We found a coffee shop with a vacant table near the window, and after giving the waitress our order she turned to me and asked: "So what would you like to do today?"

"I don't know, I'm happy with whatever you come up with. You know the area better than me so I'm in your hands." In reality I was happy just to spend time with her, but as I glanced around the coffee shop I saw several guys taking surreptitious looks at her, especially as she was sitting sideways to the table with her legs crossed. I could see they were ogling her legs and I knew some of the thoughts going through their minds — because I was thinking the same.

On the way back to her car we held hands, chatted, and I slipped my hand around her waist a couple of times. We seemed to be getting on really well.

"How about I take you on a tour of the local area? You can get to know what's in the countryside and coastline, and we can stop off whenever we want."

"Sounds like a perfect plan, go for it Auntie, take me on the grand tour." I laughed.

She giggled: "You're going to pay for that — BOY!"

"Ooohh Auntie, what are you going to do to me?"

"You wouldn't want to know..." she chuckled.

Winding our way along the lanes, I was constantly turning my head slightly to watch her legs, wishing her dress would ride up, hoping to see her stocking tops.

"I've seen you watching me out of the corner of your eye, what's going on?"

I tried to play it cool: "I was looking at your legs, they're really gorgeous and they look stunning in stockings."

"Thank you, that's very sweet..."

She paused, then glancing across at me she said: "That was an unusual thing you said just now. You said 'in stockings' as though you knew that's what I was wearing — not tights."

My anxiety rose, but I knew now was the time to open up and hope she liked what she heard. "The thing is Nicole I always looked forward to seeing you at work, and I adored your legs. In fact each time we were together I couldn't take my eyes off them — and I once caught a glimpse of stocking tops, so I knew you wore them.

But, you see, I already had a thing about stockings. They really turned me on, so that made you over ten times more attractive. I watched you when we were together. I just loved being close to you, your perfume, the way you laughed, and I adored your clothes."

"My clothes?"

"Of course, you always looked so gorgeous and chic. Whenever I sat opposite you I hoped I'd be able to see a little way under your dress, or when you crossed your legs. I was terrified I'd get caught and you'd be really angry with me."

She started to laugh: "I'm not laughing at you darling, it's just that I can't believe I was totally oblivious to what you were doing."

I felt things were going well so I opened up some more. "I really wanted to see your stocking tops, but I usually only got a little glimpse when your dress rode up. I remember once, though, I was sitting to the side of you in a meeting and while you were talking you crossed one leg over the other and under the table I could see one stocking top and suspender. Oh that was heaven, I remember you were wearing dark tan stockings and I could see one white suspender."

"Simon! How long ago was this for you to remember such detail?"

"A few years back, but I remember everything. You were the sexiest lady in the world to me, and still are. In fact you're perfection. I wanted to tell you for ages, but I was scared what you'd say."

She smiled, rocking her head slightly from side to side in jest. But I could see she wasn't unhappy with what I'd told her, and I was pleased to see that she was being a little more casual with the hem of her skirt — she'd let it ride up quite a way above her knees.

"Simon, I'm just amazed that I never got an inkling of any of this. I always thought you were cute, but just concluded I was a little mature for you."

Before I could answer we pulled into a pub car park and she grinned at me: "Come on, let's have some lunch."

I jumped out of the car and ran round to her side. Opening the door for her I was delighted to see that she was making no effort to hide the glimpse of stocking tops as she swung her legs out.

"So, you were trying to see my stocking tops back then? What do you reckon now after waiting all these years?"

"Beautiful! Stocking tops really turn me on — especially when you're wearing them."

We walked into the pub hand in hand, found a table, then I went to the bar to get us some drinks. When I got back to the table I sat close to her while we considered the menu. I rested my hand on her knee and as we chatted I stroked her leg, slowly moving along her thigh until I felt the outline of a suspender through the fabric of her skirt. I fondled the button and clasp that I knew was attached to her stockings. "That feels good...," I whispered to her.

"I'm sure it does, but the waitress is coming to take our order, so move your hand and look as though you're interested in the menu — not my suspenders," she smiled.

Over lunch I kept thinking of the feel of that suspender under her skirt, and how desperate I was to run my fingers over her stockings. I hoped she couldn't see how aroused I was getting and what was happening to the front of my jeans.

After lunch we sat back to enjoy our drinks. I felt we were more relaxed with each other and I could feel her leg resting against mine so I ran my fingers over her knee, slowly slipping her skirt up, luxuriating in the touch of her stockings. I moved along her thighs, feeling a suspender pulling taut against her stocking top, the cool flesh of her thigh as I stroked her soft skin.

Nicole took my hand, kissed it and whispered: "I think somebody's going to take a bit too much interest in what's going on if you carry on like that. Come on, time to go."

Walking back to the car, I slipped my hand around her waist, then down to her hip and stroked the curve of her buttock, running my fingers over the suspender I could feel through her skirt.

I lent forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. Feeling her respond I pressed harder, more passionately, my tongue toyed with her lips until she pulled away.

"Whoa, there are people around, they'll think we're acting like a couple of love-struck teenagers," she laughed.

As we got into the car I was buzzing with passion from the taste of Nicole's lips. Her cheeks were flushed as she reversed out of the parking space. As she drove away from the pub I was tempted to reach over and lift her skirt to stroke her legs, but resisted, not confident of how she'd react.

Throughout the afternoon she took me to several tourist spots. We walked a little, chatted and laughed a lot. I held her hand then put my arm around her, but tried to keep it casual until eventually we arrived back at her cottage.

"Go and sit in the garden, I'll get us some coffee."

I went through to the garden, wondering if I'd pushed things a bit too far and afraid that she was going to tell me to back off. I was deep in thought and didn't notice her come out onto the patio.

She set down the tray: "I thought you might like a cognac with your coffee."

I relaxed a little as Nicole took the chair next to me, turned it to face me, then sat down, slowly crossing her legs. She sipped her coffee, then lifted her brandy glass to her lips, slowly tilting it back, her tongue running over her lips.

"It's been lovely today Simon, I've enjoyed myself, so don't look so worried. I just needed a little time to get my thoughts together and get used to such a change in our relationship."

"Is there anything I can say?" I asked.

She shook her head then reached over, squeezed my hand and said: "Come on, let's get showered, smarten yourself up and I'll rustle up a nice meal."

* * * * *

I came down later to find the kitchen empty. I poured myself a drink and sat down wondering why she was taking so long. Eventually I heard her coming down the stairs and braced myself, still not knowing what to expect.

She entered the kitchen and I gasped, she looked so beautiful it took my breath away. Her hair and make-up looked like they'd been done by a professional, the black cocktail dress hugged every contour of her body and her black stockings and stilettos emphasised her long, stunning, legs.

"Wow, you look gorgeous," I stammered.

"Thank you darling, I'm so pleased you approve." She smiled as she spun around, allowing me to glimpse the seams up the back of her stockings.

Gliding up to me she took my hand and guided it over the silky sheen of her dress, pausing at the suspender she knew I could feel beneath the diaphanous material. "I decided it was stupid if I didn't just live for the moment, so I thought I needed to make up with you and do something you'd enjoy." She slowly started to lift the front of her dress, pausing at each step until her hem was above her stocking tops.

Transfixed, I couldn't take my eyes off her sleek, black, stocking clad legs, her stocking tops held taught by wide suspenders.

"Nothing to say?"

"Oh, you are a fucking goddess. I've imagined you like this, but the pictures in my head were never as horny as you look now."

Letting go of her dress she kissed me lightly on the lips and smiled: "Just what a girl loves to hear. Now fix us a drink and tell me more."

I mixed a couple of gin and tonics and tried to take it all in, but I kept going back to the image of watching her lift her dress, and those gorgeous suspenders pulling so tight on the tops of her black stockings. Every dream I'd ever wanked over was captured in that moment.

I handed her a drink, then put my arm around her: "Mmmm, your perfume is delicious, and your dress is so silky soft and sexy beneath my fingertips."

Her hair fell across my face as I nibbled her ear, my lips caressing her neck, lingering over the soft skin at the top of her spine.

She shivered: "Mmmm, that's lovely, but I've got a meal to serve up, you'll have to be patient my love."

"Patient? You show me my wildest dreams and expect me to stay calm?" I laughed. "You've got me so horny, and now you're just playing with me..."

She kissed my hand gently, then leant across and kissed me on the lips. I wrapped my arms around her then led her over to the sofa. I ran my hand over her dress, stretched tight over her crossed legs, her head nestled against my neck as I slowly slid her dress up above her stocking tops. My fingers caressed the smooth silkiness of her stockings, shivering at the soft, sleek feel of the nylons beneath my fingertips.