Aunt Angela’s Nightmare

Look forward to hearing from you.

Best wishes

David xxx

The visit to Cardiff on company business was a total fabrication but Aunty Angela need never know that. She replied by return of post:

Dear David,

I was thrilled to get your letter. Friday 15^th of June is perfect and of course you can stay over. I can't wait to see you!!

Angela xxxx

So three weeks later I left work at lunchtime on the Friday and drove west with a light heart and butterflies in my stomach at the thought of what might happen that evening. I had no firm preconceptions; I certainly didn't expect to make love to my aunt or anything approaching that, but I wanted to kiss her and touch her and for her to be comfortable doing this.

She must have been watching for me through the window because the door opened as soon as I drew up and she came down the little garden path, hugged me, and carried my grip indoors. I presented her with the flowers I'd picked up round the corner at the grocer's, a box of truffles and a bottle of a half-decent Merlot. She was thrilled and went off to put the flowers in a vase. I followed her into the kitchen.

'Did you manage to fix the bed-settee?' I asked, innocently.

'Well sort of. Mr Jones from next door had a go at it and he managed to get it fully down as a settee but then he couldn't budge it. Stuck solid it is.' She looked at me and smiled a bit ruefully. 'So one of us sleeps on that thing or we both share my bed again.'

'I'm happy to share,' I said.

'That's fine, then,' she replied, and the subject wasn't raised again.

I took Aunty Angela out for dinner that evening. It was an Italian restaurant in Merthyr and a bit shabby and provincial but she was thrilled. I imagine it had been years since she'd been wined and dined. Even when she was married a coal miner's wages didn't run to regular meals out. She found interest and excitement in the most commonplace of things, like the waiter topping up our glasses and having the waiter help her on with her coat at the end of the meal. It was very touching and I felt a rush of warmth for this lonely widow.

Back at her house we chatted over the inevitable cup of tea then Angela declared that she was tired -- she was usually in bed by 10pm. As before, I used the bathroom first and was reading in bed when she appeared in a powder blue nylon nightdress, an improvement on the winceyette, but not much. Although I fancied it was partially see-through or would have been if the light in the bedroom had been stronger. Also it rode up as she climbed into bed beside me, exposing a tantalisingly short glimpse of her thighs before she pulled the blankets over her.

We read in silence for about ten minutes and then my aunt put down her book and took off her reading glasses. 'I'm sorry David, I'm really tired. It must be all the excitement of the day,' she smiled at me. 'It's so nice of you to come all this way to see me and I've had a lovely time. Thank you for taking me to a restaurant. It was such a treat.'

We put out our lights and lay down. 'Have you had your nightmare recently?' I asked.

'A couple of weeks ago, so I should be alright tonight.' She paused. 'It's almost a shame.'

'Why so?'

'Well, I won't get a cuddle in the night.'

There was a silence for about five seconds whilst I digested this. 'Angela, you can have a cuddle anytime you want.' I held up my arm. 'Come on, have one now, before we go to sleep.'

She shuffled over and came in under my arm and into the now familiar embrace, her head on my shoulder, her arm over my chest and my right arm around her shoulders, gently stroking between her shoulder blades.

I kissed the top of her head and she gave a little sigh. 'Comfortable?' I asked.

'Very comfortable. It makes me feel so warm and safe, David.'

I kissed the top of her head again and she raised her face to look at me, in the dimness of the street-lit bedroom. So I kissed her on her lips briefly before breaking off, my heart racing with excitement. She kept her face tilted up to mine so I kissed her again, for longer, and with a tiny bit more pressure. She pursed her lips and pressed lightly back against me and so, with my mind whirling, and butterflies in my stomach, I opened my mouth and felt hers open and I slid my tongue into my aunt's mouth and this time she didn't break away and I felt her tongue flick against mine. Still kissing her I turned my body to hers, put my free arm around her and pressed my open mouth on hers. She sighed and I felt her hand on my neck, pressing me to her and then we were kissing properly, passionately, mouths mashed together, saliva mingling, tongues darting in and out, feeling her front teeth against my upper lip and tasting her juices, smelling the scent of her talcum powder.

That first proper kiss must have lasted ten minutes or more; she said later that she didn't want it to end. Not just because she was enjoying it so much but because afterwards she knew we would probably have to have a difficult conversation. But not yet. We broke off and looked at each other in the gloom and then we kissed again, slower and more gently, exploring each other's lips and tongues and teeth. Carried away by the moment I found her right breast and cupped it with my hand, squeezing and kneading gently. It barely filled my palm though it felt surprisingly firm and the nipple at its centre was rigid. She stiffened slightly as I did this but as I fondled her she relaxed and pressed her hand harder against the back of my neck. Thus encouraged I released her breast and slid my left hand down further, stroking her stomach and thighs before sliding my hand between her legs and cupping her crotch through her nightie. Angela gave a start and broke the kiss, grabbing at my hand.

'No David! Not there!'

I thought I'd blown it then but I kissed her again and after a minute she relaxed and kissed me back and I made no further attempt on her nether regions.

'I'm sorry,' I said, eventually. 'I shouldn't have done that.'

I could see her smile in the shadows. 'We shouldn't even be kissing like this, David.'

'No,' I agreed, 'we shouldn't.' So I kissed her again.

'Does it feel funny? Kissing me I mean,' she asked a little later.

'Yes,' I said, slowly. 'A bit funny. But it's like no other kissing I've ever done,' I went on, truthfully. 'It's so... so sensuous. Erotic, I suppose. I've never really been turned on by kissing before. Not like this. What about you? How does it feel for you?'

'Yes, the same for me. Very sensuous. And warm. You made me feel all warm and safe.'

'I want you, Angela,' I said as an intense wave of desire for my middle-aged aunt swept through me.

'I know,' she replied, quietly. I can feel you against me.' She paused and I wondered what was coming next. 'But we mustn't. I'm your aunt, it would be incest.' She sighed. 'What would your mother think if she knew what we were doing,' she said, half to herself. 'She'd be horrified.' She was silent for a few seconds. 'Kiss me again,' she said. 'One last kiss.'

I didn't know if she meant one last kiss tonight or one last kiss full stop. I suspected the latter, given the context. I certainly kissed her as though it was the last kiss either of us would ever have. I was ragingly aroused, my cock as hard as glass, and I kissed her, devoured her, for long minutes. Eventually she pushed me away, gently but firmly. 'Oh God, David, the forbidden fruit's the sweetest but we'll have to stop, you're making my lips sore.'

We slept after that and when I awoke at seven-thirty, my aunt was already up and dressed. We had a quick breakfast and I said I'd better get on the road. It was a bit awkward between us but when we came to say goodbye, in the tiny hallway, I put my arms around her and drew her to me and she didn't resist and I kissed her and she kissed me back, out mouths working against each other. Then it was over and we stepped back.

'Shall I come down again in a few weeks?' I asked.

'I don't know,' she said after a pause. 'It's lovely having you come and see me,' she said in that wonderful Welsh lilt, 'but I think it might be dangerous if we kept seeing each other. I'm sorry, David, I need to think about it.'

So I left, my disappointment almost palpable, and drove like a maniac back to London where I slammed up to my flat and drank a few glasses of Scotch to numb the pain. So that was that. All the build-up and the sexual tension of the past few weeks was for nothing! It wasn't just that I was disappointed because I wasn't going to get to fuck my aunt, I was actually starting to have really strong feelings for her, thirty-year age gap notwithstanding.

What I didn't appreciate was that when my Aunt Angela said she'd think about it, she didn't mean "no" she meant she'd think about it. And, four weeks later, when I'd just about stopped thinking about her every five minutes during the day, I got a letter.

Dear David,

Our last parting was a little bit strained, I think, because of the circumstances. It's all a bit difficult because I was (am) starting to have feelings for you that an aunt shouldn't have for her nephew and I think that you may be having similar feelings for me, though I may just be deluding myself! I do ask myself what a handsome and successful young man sees in a middle-aged lady who never was much to look at!

I have re-run that night together in my head over and over. I remember saying that your mother, my sister, would be horrified if she knew what we were doing, but I'm not actually so sure. I remember many years ago, when we were children, and Gladys Morgan, who lived across the street, ran off with the lad from the grocer's. She was fifty-something and widowed and had three grown-up kids and he was only just starting to shave so he couldn't have been as old as you. There was a right hoo-ha in the district at the time; everyone said it was a disgrace, but your mum said "So what? If they're happy and they're not hurting anyone." She's a free spirit, your mum, and I think she'd say the same about us, even though we are related. I may be deluding myself again but it's true, we wouldn't be hurting anyone.

What I'm trying to say is that I would love you to come down and see me again. Or I could come up to London. And before you panic I'm not suggesting that I'm a modern-day Gladys Morgan and that we should run off together! I'm saying that it would be lovely to see you whenever you can make it down and that the kissing is ok and maybe other things too. There! I've said it!

Let me know what you think. I'll be on tenterhooks until I hear!

All my love Angela xxxxx

Ps -- I think you had better burn this letter...

I read it over about twenty times but it still seemed to say the same thing: Aunty Angela felt the same way as I did. Which was wonderful and scary at the same time. And what did "and maybe other things too" mean? Was she offering to have full sexual intercourse with me? I certainly hoped so but that wasn't strictly what she'd said. I certainly wanted her; I'd never wanted another woman more, nowhere even close. About time, I thought, to put the old risk analysis skills to use. If Angela was going to yield her all to me then the conditions needed to be right. I thought for a long time, then I made some phone calls. Then I wrote to my aunt.

Dear Angela,

I was thrilled to get your letter and to learn that you have feelings for me too! Including those forbidden feelings... I'm with you all the way. We are both consenting adults and are not hurting anybody. The taboo of incest is irrelevant for us. Naturally of course we should be totally discreet. Imagine the fuss if your parents found out! I do wonder if that doesn't give our relationship an added spice -- the fear of discovery!

I would love to come and see you. I can't make this weekend but how about the following Saturday? And, as you have been so good as to put me up the last two times, it's my turn to treat you. I have therefore booked the penthouse suite at the Hilton in Cardiff for the Saturday night. It's got two bedrooms so it's entirely appropriate for a nephew treating his aunt. We will go shopping in the afternoon and go to a restaurant for dinner. No arguments. I can perfectly well afford it and it's the least I can do for you!

I'll pick you up after ten am on Saturday. Have an overnight bag packed!

All my love, David xxxxx

I got a note back return of post protesting, but not too hard, about the cost of a lavish weekend in Cardiff. I didn't burn her letters but I did keep them locked in my filing cabinet.

Ten days later saw me leaving London before seven o'clock and knocking on Angela's door by ten-thirty. She was ready to go, a small suitcase packed and sitting in the hall, so we didn't stay long. Just long enough for the inevitable cup of tea and a long and lingering kiss. Angela was flushed and excited and I felt good about what I was doing for her which was also good as it suppressed any residual guilt I had about my ultimate motivation. She was wearing the same dress she'd worn to Cousin Huw's wedding, flowery and simply cut. She'd put some makeup on too and she looked ok. Better than ok.

'What are we going shopping for?' she asked me as we drove the twenty-odd miles to the Welsh capital.

'A new outfit for you,' I replied. 'And no arguments.'

There were arguments of course. She protested most of the way to Cardiff that I was spending too much on her already but I refused to listen and eventually she stopped protesting.

We parked up in the centre of the city and wandered around in search of a suitable boutique -- classy, without being ruinously expensive was what I was looking for. It wasn't hard to find and, despite her initial reservations, Angela was obviously delighted to browse at her leisure; she'd possibly never been in such a shop. Eventually we settled on a knee-length black cocktail dress and matching court shoes. Then we had lunch in a city-centre pub and afterwards, at my instigation, she chose some new underwear and stockings from a chain store to go with her cocktail dress. We didn't say anything as she picked out black satin French Knickers and black, sheer stockings, but there were one or two coy glances between us.

Afterwards, I steered her to a beauty salon and gave her into the charge of a young girl. Angela was a bit bemused by this time by all the nice things that had been happening to her so she didn't argue, she just smiled at me as she was led away. I went back to the car and dumped the bags and found a coffee bar.

It was a long two hours but eventually I collected her from the salon, paid the bill and we drove to the hotel and booked in. Up on the tenth floor we explored the penthouse suite, Angela marvelling at the enormous beds and the palatial bathroom. Then we went out onto the balcony and she looked out at Cardiff and I looked at her.

I have to say, if I'd passed her in the street I'd hardly have recognised her. Her hair had been tinted a medium chestnut and cut and styled into a fashionable bob. Her make-up was sparingly and carefully applied and made the best of her narrow face and sharp nose. And they'd even painted her fingernails a deep red to match her lipstick.

I took her in my arms and kissed her and her mouth opened and I could taste her lipstick and her scent. I was very aroused, but now was not the time.

'The restaurant's booked for seven so if you want to really spoil yourself and have a soak in that enormous bath, now's the time to do it.'

She smiled and disappeared. I went into the lounge area and watched television and I didn't see her for over an hour, although I could the noises of water splashing around in the bathroom. About half-past six she appeared and stood self-consciously in front of me.

'How do I look?'

The new cocktail dress was a good enough fit that it accentuated her slimness without giving away the fact that she hadn't got much in the way of curves. Her legs, which were always great, looked fabulous in the sheer, black stockings and three-inch high heels, which made her about an inch taller than me. She'd also touched up her make-up, especially the lipstick.

'You look wonderful,' I said, truthfully. 'Absolutely gorgeous!' She wriggled with pleasure and blushed.

The restaurant was only ok, but Angela was enchanted by the whole experience and she didn't really notice the indifferent food and hit-and-miss service. She enjoyed herself immensely, savouring each new experience, drinking a couple of glasses of wine on top of a cocktail and chatting animatedly about our day. The stage was set, I couldn't help thinking, for the end game.

We were back in our suite by ten o'clock. Once inside the door I pulled her to me and our lips met and our mouths opened and we kissed long and languorously, exploring teeth, tongues, gums, and lips. Her hands on my head, mine roving over her back and her buttocks.

'Whose bed shall we sleep in?' she asked, surprising me.

'Yours. Are you ready for bed?'

'Yes. I just need to do my teeth.'

In her bedroom, with the curtains closed, it was dim and shadowy. And, up on the tenth floor, the noise of the city was muted to almost silence. We stood and kissed again and I put my hands on her bum and pulled her to me, pressing my erection into her crotch.

'Oh, David,' she murmured and kissed me, her long, slim fingers on my shoulders, her red nails digging lightly into my shirt.

I found the zip at the back of her new dress and slid it slowly down to her waist, revelling in the soft and intimate noise it made. She stepped back and took her arms out and let it drop to the floor, rustling as it slid over her stockings. I reached for her again but she bent and picked up the dress and went and hung it up in the wardrobe. She might be aroused and ready but this was a new dress, perhaps her first for years and she was going to look after it.

But in the dim light, as she turned from the wardrobe and came back to me by the bed, her long legs encased in their stockings and bare topped apart from her bra and panties, I felt an overwhelming sense of love and passion. Love because this rather plain and unassuming lady was giving herself to me and I wanted to hold her and protect her. Passion because what we were doing was forbidden and because in quietness of this city hotel penthouse, I would explore her body, smell her, taste her, and spend my seed in her.

Aunty Angela stopped in front of me and reached out, pulling my shirt from my waistband and using her long, red-tipped fingers deftly undoing the buttons. My shirt went on the floor without a second thought, then I was kicking off my shoes and socks and undoing my belt. When I was down to my boxer shorts we kissed again and I led her to the bed and we climbed on and sank into an embrace and we kissed again for long minutes, stroking each other's backs and arms, tasting each other's saliva, nibbling lips and touching our tongues together.

'Turn over,' I said, suddenly and she obeyed, rolling over on to her front, her arms underneath her as if she were doing press-ups. I stroked her hair and caressed her shoulders, running my hands over the smooth skin of her back and over her satin-clad buttocks. Angela's breathing became a bit heavier and she shivered, although the room was very warm.

'Are you ok?' I asked, quietly.

'I'm excited,' she whispered. 'I can hardly believe this is happening.'

I stroked her for a while longer then undid the clasp of her brassiere and told her to roll over again, allowing me to lift her bra clear and to see her unclad breasts for the first time, albeit in the dimness of the bedroom. I have never been a fan of enormous tits, anything more than a handful is superfluous, in my view, and Aunty Angela's breasts were everything I had hoped and imagined: small, about the size of half an orange, but pert and firm with upturned nipples, the areolae dark and wrinkled. I bent my head and took one of her nipples in my mouth and she shuddered and ran her fingers through my hair and grasped clumps of it. The nipple was large, rubbery, and engorged and I sucked it and licked it, and took it between my teeth, gently biting down. She squealed and pulled my hair and raked her nails across my back and I transferred my attention to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, leaving it covered in my spit and shining in the faint light from the bedside table.