Aunt Ethel

Aunt Ethel

This story starts out when having kids out of wedlock wasn't common, when there was no Internet, GPS, or iPhones, when sex education was not taught in school, when abortion was normally back-alley, when being "queer" was never talked about except with hush-hush "well you know" comments, when birth control was – except for using condoms and diaphragms – not easy, when if a woman wasn't married by the time that she was twenty five she was either an old maid, whore, or queer (a lesbian), and when if someone was a "career woman" that wasn't a good thing. Times have changed for the better on all of those fronts; what has not changed, however is animal lust – sexual attraction that overcomes all obstacles regardless of whether it's thoughtful, rash, smart, or ignorant.

******************

I, Chad Warton, started dating Michelle Britton when we had just turned eighteen, as seniors in High School. We were both from middle class close families with several siblings, stay-at-home moms, and fathers who worked with their hands. I thought that Michelle was a pretty girl, and intelligence or a fun personality was not as important to me when going through a macho stage at eighteen as were looks. We seemed to like each other, we seemed to want to experiment, and we seemed to think that we were more mature than we were, so we got frisky in the back seat of my 1950 Ford on many occasions.

Neither Michelle nor I really knew what we were doing. Believe it or not I wasn't really sure when the best time to put a condom on, and Michelle was even more naïve. After a half dozen full-condom fucks, Michelle apparently heard from some "reliable" source that it was more fun to do it bareback for a while, and then interrupt things and put the condom on. I went along with it.

We found out that it really was more fun to do it bareback.

We found out that it was so much fun that neither of us wanted to stop to put on the condom.

Michelle was told that by douching afterward she could avoid pregnancy.

We fucked up a storm for four months before Michelle started throwing up in the morning.

When the "rabbit died" (the nomenclature at the time for "you're pregnant") there was only one thing to do.

Michelle and I got married in a small ceremony before the school year was out; fortunately she didn't really start to show until after graduation and so she wasn't kicked out of school. The parents and other Britton and Warton relatives did their best to hide their disappointment in us and to secrete and/or ignore the fact that Michelle was pregnant, and the reception was a fairly decent time. There was one unusual happening – the arrival of Aunt Ethel Turner.

Aunt Ethel was Michele's mother's youngest sibling. She was probably only twenty six or twenty seven at the time, but she seemed much older and more sophisticated – well maybe "sophisticated" isn't the right word, maybe just more "worldly" or "savoir faire." Also, she was bar far the most well-to-do member of the family. She was the first person in either of our families to go to – let alone graduate from – college, and owned at least two businesses that she would talk about.

Aunt Ethel looked a lot different than her sisters or than Michelle; while all the women on Michelle's mother's, the Turner, side of the family were "pretty" Ethel was much more than that – she was "exotic." While the rest of the Turner/Britton women had nice bodies, Ethel's was "sybaritic." She had the biggest tits for an otherwise normal sized woman that I had ever seen. She wasn't married, and the "hush, hush" talk around the family was that she was both a "career woman" and "queer," otherwise someone who looked like her would have to have been married, and she was never seen in the company of a male date although she sometimes did show up at family gatherings with a female friend.

Having heard what I did about Aunt Ethel I was surprised when she wanted to dance with me when the first-time disc jockey (in those days they really did play "discs") that Michelle's parents had hired played a slow song, and then a second right after it. Aunt Ethel had an effervescent personality – much bubblier than any other woman that I had been exposed to before in my life – and she was obviously very smart and didn't try to hide her intelligence like many women of the time did. However, it was more than slightly disconcerting when occasionally she would push those enormous honkers of hers hard into my chest. It was beyond disconcerting when near the end of the second slow song she moved her right thigh into contact with my crotch and I got an immediate hard-on. It was impossible that she didn't feel it, and she got a diabolical smile on her face and seemed to really enjoy the perspiration flowing from my forehead when she made it impossible to move my cock away from her.

When Michelle and I went to a motel on a lake about twenty miles from home for our two day "honeymoon" starting right after the reception, it was not a good sign when despite my best efforts to the contrary I was fucking Aunt Ethel in my mind while pounding Michelle as hard as I could considering her condition.

****************

Michelle and I started out our life together in her parents' basement since neither of us had any money. I got a decent job loading trucks in a warehouse since I was six three, two hundred thirty pounds and even strong for my size, and made what was about four times minimum wage at the time. Michelle got a part time job in a store. Living with Michelle's parents wasn't easy, however, since she never wanted to fuck unless she was sure that everyone else was asleep – and by then I usually was too – and her family was just too intrusive and clingy. Once she got to the seventh month of her pregnancy all sex was verboten – Michelle had no interest whatsoever.

The only good thing about living with Michelle's parents was a bi-weekly visit from Aunt Ethel. She always gave me a big hug, pressing those marvels of nature on her chest into mine, and a kiss on the cheek, and occasionally an inadvertent stroke of her hand over my crotch – maybe just to confirm that she had in fact raised my flagpole. I quickly learned all sorts of tricks for hiding the tenting of my pants.

Although I earned my living by moving things around, my passion was dogs. Actually, I was a minor savant when it came to handling dogs, and many other animals. For some reason all dogs – even difficult ones like the German Shepard three houses down from where I grew up who tried to bite anyone who went to touch it, but rolled over on its back for me to rub its belly – loved me.

Aunt Ethel was quite intrigued when she was on her normal bi-weekly Sunday visit while I was playing with Michelle's family's two golden retrievers in the back yard when a wayward snarling Rottweiler came bounding into the area. The goldens beat a hasty retreat behind me and I approached the intruder talking to it in a firm but non-threatening voice. It growled at me for a few seconds, and then looked me in the eye as I approached with my hand out. It let me pet it and inspect its collar to find out if the owner's contact information was on it. It was.

I yelled into the house for someone to call the number that I read out, and to bring me a leash. The Rottweiler growled and made a few aggressive moves when Michelle's little brother brought a leash out, but I calmed the dog down and put the leash on it, rubbed it under its chin, and then walked it out to the front yard to wait for its owner.

A very curious Aunt Ethel came out of the house into the front yard, where I was alternatively sitting and wrestling with Samson, the name I had gotten from the Rottweiler's dog tags. When Aunt Ethel first approached Samson growled – but I settled him down to the point where he let Aunt Ethel gently pat the top of his head – although there was still a low mummer in his throat when she did that.

"Have you always had a special relationship with dogs?" she asked, really quite amazed.

"Sure," I replied. "We always had a couple, and I took care of and walked dogs for money when I was in my early teens – I always seemed to have a rapport with them," I replied.

"Every thought of going into business handling them?" she asked.

"I don't know how?" I responded, shrugging my shoulders. "I don't know what I'd do with them that could make money."

"Let me look into it," she said with a big smile.

We chatted some more – while all of the other members of the household – including the two goldens – stared out the front window – until the owner pulled up in an old pickup truck a few minutes later. He was a grizzled old guy with tattoos covering his arms and dirty coveralls on. He has an absolutely shocked look on his face when he approached.

"Is Samson your dog?" I asked as I stood up.

"Sure is," he replied with a country accent. "I'm Jake Riley. Boy, I never saw him behave for anyone but me before – he didn't bite you none?"

"No, he and I are buddies," I replied with a laugh as I rubbed Samson's muzzle.

"I'll be damned," Jake marveled as he shook my hand and I said "I'm Chad Warton."

"So he's never taken to anyone else before?" Aunt Ethel chimed in.

"No ma'am," Jake responded with a tip of his worn baseball cap. "I just never seen nothing like it. I had some family he's been around for years that he don't cotton to – I's almost had to get ridda him several times."

Aunt Ethel pumped Jake for more information for a few more minutes, but it looked like Jake was anxious to get out of there – he seemed uncomfortable talking to such an exotic smart woman. I knelt down to undo Samson's leash and he licked my face. The look on Jake's face when he did that said it all – no words were necessary, although Jake did mumble "Well I'll be..."

The Rottweiler incident caused quite a stir in the Britton household. I was treated like a hero, especially by Michelle's dad and little brother. It looked like Aunt Ethel's wheels were turning in her head – she left before dinner, unusual for her, saying that she had "Some investigating to do."

The adoration of the other members of the Britton-Turner clan wore off in the next couple of weeks, but in the meantime Aunt Ethel was not letting any grass grow under her feet. Instead of her bi-weekly visit on a Sunday, she called up and asked to see me on Saturday. I drove my 1950 Ford over to her house – the nicest one that I had ever seen. It wasn't that large, but boy was it fancy. Although at the time I still looked at Aunt Ethel as older than she really was (and not because of her looks) I was still amazed that she could have such nice stuff.

After her traditional member-inflating big hug and kiss on my cheek she got right to the point. "Chad, you're probably a little confused as to why I asked you over. Let me propound a few questions first – I hope that you don't think that I'm prying, but I need to get as much information as I can."

"Shoot," I replied.

"How much money do you make now?"

"$4.50 an hour, time and a half if I work more than forty hours a week."

"What type of benefits do you get?"

"I get some health insurance – I don't really know exactly what it covers, I don't get sick much or go to the doctor, but it does help some with Michelle's pregnancy visits to the doctor."

"What would you say to a guarantee of $6.00 an hour and a chance to make ten times that, with a similar medical plan?"

"Who do I have to kill?" I chuckled.

"I've done some research – this community needs a business that conforms to your skills. You could set up a kennel and a dog training business. I'd provide the seed capital," Aunt Ethel started in. I had no idea what "seed capital" was, but I wasn't going to seem stupid and ask. "I'd guarantee you $6.00 an hour for the first six months to get the business going. After that we'd become 50-50 partners. Once I netted $100,000 I'd sign the business over to you free and clear."

"WOW," I exclaimed. "Is that for real?"

"Yes it is. Also, I've already located a piece of property that would work for you, that doesn't require a change in zoning, and it has a little house on it that you and Michelle could move into and live in rent free for the first six months."

"Are you shitting – uh, sorry Aunt Ethel – kidding me?"

"No – let's look at the details."

Aunt Ethel and I went over what I later came to know as a "business plan." To be honest I didn't understand most of it, but I really liked the bottom line. After ninety minutes my head was spinning. "I need to talk to Michelle about this," I said once I had reached my saturation point. "When do I have to make a decision by?"

"I have an option on the property for a month – so you have to decide by then, otherwise I have to redo my figures and search out another property. I don't want to do that. This is the perfect place. Why don't you and Michelle go look at it tomorrow with me?"

Sunday, the next day, Michelle, me, and Michelle's dad piled into my Ford and drove out to the property that Aunt Ethel had given me directions to. It was about a ten minute drive from Michelle's parents' house and about a fifteen minute drive – in almost the opposite direction – from Aunt Ethel's house. Aunt Ethel was waiting for us.

It really was a nice little house, the operative word being "little" although bigger than the basement that we were now living in. It did seem like a good place for kennels that Aunt Ethel would bankroll. Obviously she already had some construction dude lay out an area of about an acre – the entire plot was about three and one-half acres – where the kennel and training area would be, as well as how an old shed would be torn down and a new one, three times the size, constructed.

"Although I like the place, this here boy don't know nothin' about getting business though," Michelle's father correctly pointed out.

"I'm the rainmaker," Aunt Ethel laughed. "I'll start out with an advertising campaign and word of mouth will do the rest once everyone sees what a savant Chad is. However, there is one more thing that I found out. In order for Chad and me to get a license we need to attend a course at the community college. It's at night after work so that it won't interfere with Chad's job until it's time to make the move."

Both Michelle and I were a little apprehensive, but for different reasons. I didn't know if I had the talent to pull it off, and I think that Michelle was apprehensive mostly because she was tied to her close family; but Michelle's dad had given us his OK, which was a big deal. The next week I got another incentive that put me over the top.

The next Saturday I again went to Aunt Ethel's house to talk some more about it. She greeted me in a swimsuit. The year was 1960, and the song "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini" by Brian Hyland had just been released. If you substituted "Red and White Striped" for "Yellow Polka Dot" the song could have been written for Aunt Ethel. I didn't even need the tight hug to sprout a boner. "I was just tanning in the back yard – I hope you don't mind if we go sit out there, do you Chad?" she chirped.

"Uh, no, uh, sure..." I stammered.

She brought me a beer – even though I was still more than two years away from the legal age – and herself a glass of wine onto the back deck of her house. We talked about business for a while, as best that I could while ogling her consummate body, and then the tenor of the conversation changed.

"Chad – I hope that I won't scare you away, but I need to ask some personal questions too. Don't be embarrassed by them – I swear that anything that we say will not ever be revealed to anyone else."

I don't remember giving or even nodding my approval before she started in.

"Chad, do you, like the rest of the members of the Britton and Turner families, think that I'm queer?"

"I...I...uh...really don't know," was able to choke out.

"Seems to me that you always have a reaction in your crotch when I push my body against yours, don't you?"

"Uh...yeah...sorry," I stammered.

"Don't be sorry – I enjoy it," she smiled.

"Tell me, do you love Michelle?"

"I...I...guess so; we're married."

"Yeah, but it wasn't like you dated a long time, and had sex with a lot of other people, and made a conscious decision to get married. Her pregnancy kind of forced it upon you, didn't it?"

"Uh...yeah...but I really like her."

"Well, how's the sex been since you've been married?"

"Geez, Aunt Ethel –should we really be having this conversation...I mean..." I replied, but that's all I got out before she got off her lounge chair and came and sat on my lap.

"I'll bet that you haven't been getting any pussy for quite a while, have you, now that she's getting along in her pregnancy. She said as much the day of the Rottweiler incident," Aunt Ethel went on undeterred.

"Uh...no...it's been hard the last few months because I got used to fuc... I mean making love and now it hurts."

"You can say 'fucking' around me, Chad; because I'm going to say it around you. Because you know what my favorite thing in the world to do is, Chad?"

"Uh...uh...well...no," I mumbled in reply.

"Fucking; and not other women. I love fucking big strong muscular guys like yourself, Chad. I'll probably never get married because I enjoy fucking different guys and I don't want kids; and do you know what I'm best at in the world, Chad?"

"Uh, no..." I stammered.

"Fucking, Chad. If we're inn business together we'll have plenty of opportunities to fuck—I'll make your life fantastic," she said in a sultry voice and then planted a kiss on me.

I lusted after her – so much that I never even considered trying to pretend that I wanted to stop. I never even thought about Michelle – but Aunt Ethel brought her up.

"You'll be a better husband to Michelle and a better father when your baby comes along if you're truly a happy man, Chad. And I'll make you a truly happy man," Aunt Ethel whispered into my ear before she stuck her tongue in it.

She stood up, undid the top to her bikini, and let it fall on the deck. Her tits were magnificent. Not only were they big, but they had just the right amount of sag to them to make them deliciously ponderous, and they had what are now referred to as "puffy nipples," a term not used then. I was overwhelmed. I instinctively reached out first my right, and then my left, hand and touched them. They were so soft and felt so good.

Aunt Ethel smiled, took my hand, and led me inside to her living room couch. When we got inside she dropped her bottoms exposing an almost hairless crotch – much different than the other hairy ones that I had seen – and lay on the couch cushions with her legs spread out and her pussy glistening. I started to undress.

"You need to eat me first stud," she cackled. When she saw the perplexed look on my face she giggled. "You haven't eaten pussy before, have you?"

"Uh...no," I said, fully embarrassed.

"It's fun and easy. Kneel down and let Aunt Ethel show you what to do."

Aunt Ethel was both patient and appreciative as she showed me how to explore her treasure with both my fingers and mouth. It didn't take long to get the hang of it, nor to enjoy it, especially since her pussy smelled and tasted like a tangy tangerine. I'd never sniffed or tasted pussy before, but if this is what they all tasted like, I was really missing something. After a couple of dozen of exclamations of "Oh yeah, right there," from Aunt Ethel she had a massive orgasm. It was more massive than any Michelle had ever had, at least based upon her reaction to it, but I knew enough to know that it was an orgasm and that I hadn't done anything wrong.

I massaged her fabulous tits as she came down from her orgasm. Once she was completely with it she got this big smile on her face and asked "Has Michelle ever sucked your cock?"