Aunt Hazel's Hairy Pussy

I looked down and saw cum spitting from me, my bed protected from the stuff raining down by the towel I'd spread out for exactly that purpose, just as my aunt knocked on my door.

"Are you in there, Carl?" she called.

"Yeah," I managed to croak, certain that a few seconds later would see my aunt standing in the open doorway, her fingers at her mouth while she struggled to accept the image of her nephew kneeling on the bed, spunk gushing out of his cock.

"Well, since I'm home early," Hazel continued from beyond the door, "I wondered if you'd like to eat earlier than usual tonight? I quite fancy pizza." I heard my aunt chuckle. "I don't know why I've got the taste for it, but I fancy pizza. How about you?"

"Anything," I blurted. "I don't mind."

I gave a huge, deep felt sigh of relief when Hazel said she'd dig the takeaway menu out from one the kitchen drawers and moved away from my door. I almost collapsed onto the bed, my legs and arms trembling.

"Oh God, oh god," I muttered, the panic setting in as I scrambled around tidying myself up. "Fuck, that was close. Oh fuck ... what if she'd come in?"

The fright had been too much for me and I all but flung the magazine through the partition in the ceiling when I heard Hazel moving around downstairs. I pressed the trapdoor to the loft closed and put the images from my mind, vowing never to entertain lewd thoughts over my aunt again.

That was the reason I told my aunt she shouldn't be saying things like that to me, I still felt guilty over harbouring incestuous thoughts about her during the magazine saga.

"But I'm so bloody frustrated, Carl," my aunt said. "I haven't been loved for such a long time, not properly loved. And the last man I had was Murray. I haven't been fucked for ages."

My hands, without me realising it, were moving over my aunt's hips and thighs. I was caressing her through her skirt, my fingers gently squeezing. Hazel gasped when I pressed the tips of my fingers into her buttocks.

My aunt placed both hands on my head, one palm smoothing the hair at my crown while the fingers of her other hand caressed my cheek. "I'm so ... so ... desperate right now, Carl," I heard her murmur. "I have urges and needs and I'm just not fulfilled." She sighed, heavily. "Sometimes I could just go out and find a man, any man, any random bloke with muscles and a big cock. God," Hazel breathed, "how lovely that would be, to just let myself go and fuck a hard penis."

When I looked up at Hazel's face I saw her eyes had glazed over, her face almost serene as she lived the fantasy in her head.

'I'd let him do it to me however he wanted to," the woman added. "He could just ... just use me." My aunt sighed again. Releasing my head she stepped back a pace. "Just like I'd be using him," Hazel continued. "I'd love to ride a cock that's all thick and hard, all stiff with excitement over me."

All I could do was sit in the chair and listen. Too stunned to speak, I couldn't move, just stared at my aunt during this ribald and shocking torrent with my mouth hanging open. Hazel went on and on, describing exactly what she wanted, what she craved to do with her anonymous lover.

Eventually – and I still have trouble reconciling what Hazel did next with the soft-spoken, demure woman I knew as my aunt – perpetuating my slack-jawed, boggle-eyed surprise, Hazel hiked up her skirt.

"Oh Jesus," I breathed, not believing that the white cotton underwear with tiny pink bows embroidered along the waistband, the knickers packed with her pudendum actually belonged to my aunt. This was my mother's sister, it simply couldn't be.

I blasphemed again when Hazel pushed a hand into that waistband, her legs buckling at the knees before she staggered backwards and collapsed into the settee. She held her skirt around her midriff with one hand, the one that wasn't shoved down inside her underwear, while I sat opposite her, my head spinning.

"I want a man to touch me," my aunt whispered, her face tight with lust, eyes blazing, the cords in her neck like knife blades. I stared at her, my mind reeling while she lay there, sprawled across the leather, legs wide fingers squirming and wriggling inside her underwear. "Carl, I'm so sorry." Hazel mumbled. Her eyes rolled. "I can't help it, I have to do this ... I know I shouldn't do it in front of you, but I have to."

My aunt winced and gasped. I saw her close her eyes as she just let herself go, witnessed the moment of abandon. Without thinking, not really knowing I was doing it, I unbuckled my belt and, after unbuttoning my jeans and pulling down the zip, lifted my hips and yanked my jeans to my thighs. I stroked my cock and watched my aunt rub herself closer and closer to orgasm.

Hazel's eyes widened when she opened them and saw me, saw what I was doing. A moan slipped out of her. "Oh fuck. Pull it, Carl," she hissed. "Pull your cock. Let me see."

Sunday March 31st

She didn't appear until late afternoon the following day. At first Hazel couldn't meet my eyes, she just held up a hand as she walked into the kitchen. "Not a word, Carl," she said, hurrying past me on her way to the kettle. "Please, I'm so bloody embarrassed, please don't say a thing."

So I sat at the table and pretended to write up notes from the previous weeks lectures. Not that I could concentrate on a word – how could I after what I'd experienced the previous night? I'd thought of nothing else since watching my aunt masturbate, fingers busy inside her knickers while I too wanked with a furious, reckless abandon. I'd witnessed her climax and had spurted my own ejaculate onto my tee-shirt. After that, following a few breathless seconds where we both just stared at each other, agog, the two of us apparently shell-shocked until Hazel had blurted out some unintelligible sound and, after hauling herself upright from the sofa, fled from the room.

Following my aunt's exit I sat and tried to make sense of what had just happened. What I'd just seen was unbelievable, things like that just did not happen, not in real life, not outside the pages of a magazine. There was no way Hazel would have done what she did, I had to be hallucinating or dreaming.

I must have sat there for fifteen minutes, perhaps longer, simply trying to make sense of it all. It wasn't until I moved, easing muscles that had stiffened by my statue-lime immobility, that I felt the damp patches on my tee-shirt against my skin. Semen had stained the shirt, patches of physical evidence, testimony that what had gone on was true.

When I went to her bedroom and gave the door a timid knock, Aunt Hazel told me to go away, to leave her alone. At first I'd begged her to see me. What we'd just done together had me reeling, I had to talk about it, to find out what my aunt was feeling and thinking. I suppose I should have just barged in and demanded to talk to her, to get it all out in the open, but I'm not like that, I wouldn't contemplate bursting in shouting the odds. No, all I did was knock at the door and linger outside for a few seconds before moving away with great and heavy reluctance.

Of course sleep never came, not with the events playing over and over in my mind. I kept seeing my aunt's face as she lay sprawled across the sofa, heard her moans and groans and sighs, listened again to the words she'd used. Imagining what it would have been like to have gone to her and ripped her underwear from her body. I tugged my cock twice more before daylight filtered through the curtains of my bedroom. I yanked at it again once more after the late dawn while thinking about licking my aunt's pussy and stabbing into her with my hard dick.

I climbed out of bed just after nine and loitered outside Hazel's closed bedroom door on my way to the bathroom. My hand actually touched the door-handle, all it would take was a quick twist and a push, but my nerve failed me. My cock stiffened again as I showered, willing my aunt to join me under the spray. Would she come? Would I see her naked and get to feel her skin under my fingers? Would she kiss me and touch my cock?

Of course, she never appeared.

Unfulfilled and agitated I towelled dry. I hadn't even masturbated in the shower, and the rest of the morning and afternoon were agony. Pressure built inside me – I had to see Hazel, talk to her about what we'd done. I couldn't settle, television was no good, reading didn't take my mind off it, and there was no hope of me concentrating on my university course.

It was just as I'd put the kettle on to boil water for a cup of tea that I heard the sounds of movement overhead. My heart leapt into my throat, a physical swelling in my chest and a tightening of my windpipe. Excitement and dread churned in my stomach, I both desired and feared seeing Aunt Hazel again.

When she made her entrance and implored me with that upraised hand and averted eyes not to say a thing about what had occurred I swallowed the words that bubbled into my mouth, questions backed-up behind my teeth, like a log-jam on a river.

Hazel rummaged around in one of the kitchen drawers. "Oh God, they're stale," she spat in disgust after lighting a cigarette from a packet she found.

"Well, how long have they been there?" I asked, grateful for something to say. "Didn't you give up years ago?"

Hazel glanced at me and nodded before she walked to the sink and stared out of the window across the paddock behind the house. "Five years," she replied. "Bloody hell, I can't smoke this, it's foul." She turned to me, blinking when she looked into my expectant face. "Carl, be a love. Go down to the shop and get me a packet of Marlboro Lights would you?" Hazel indicated her blue bathrobe, cinched tightly at the waist. "I'm not dressed yet or I'd go myself."

"Uh-are you sure, Aunt Hazel? I—"

My aunt cut me off with a pained expression, her eyes closed, face turned away from me. "Please, Carl Just ... go. Please. I'll make the tea," she added, to my back as I left the room.

When I returned I found Hazel sitting at the kitchen table, elbows upon it, face in her palms. A cup of tea steamed in front of her while set at the place opposite was a mug of the same.

"Here," I said, dropping the cigarettes onto the table before I sat down and lifted the mug to my lips.

Hazel removed the cellophane from the packet with trembling fingers. She stood up and went to the kitchen counter where she'd left the lighter. Lighting up she inhaled, closing her eyes and sighing with deep satisfaction. My aunt took two more long drags before returning to her seat.

"All right, Carl," she murmured, her eyes flicking back and forth between my own and a point just above my left shoulder. "I suppose we need to talk about what went on last night." Hazel blinked a few times. She smoked and flicked the tip of her cigarette with her thumb to knock ash into the saucer she used as an ashtray. "Uh-I ..." she stuttered, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I can't for the life of me imagine what was going through my head, Carl." A blush crept out of the neck of my aunt's bathrobe. She dropped her gaze to the tabletop while her cheeks flared a deep red. "When I woke up this morning all I could think about was ... was ... Oh God, Carl! I'm mortified. I'm so embarrassed and deeply ashamed."

Resisting the urge to stand up and walk around the table to my aunt – some instinct told me that touching her, however innocently and well-intentioned would be a mistake – I sat there, quiet and attentive. Hazel went on for a few moments more, lamenting and blaming herself for what occurred in an outpouring of anguish.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Aunt Hazel," I said when she finally shit up. I shrugged. "I was there too; I did ... things as well. At least you were a bit boozed up, I was sober and I could have stopped it from happening."

Hazel lifted her forlorn face to me. She looked lost, so fragile and afraid that once again I had to suppress the urge to go to her and take her into my embrace.

"I can't blame to vodka," my aunt said with a shake of her head. "Not entirely." Hazel sighed and dragged on her cigarette. She pulled a face, nose wrinkling with disgust. "What the bloody hell am I doing smoking?" she asked before grinding the half-smoked thing into the saucer. 'I don't need to get started with that crap again." Hazel looked at me. "Oh, Carl, what the hell did we do it for? What was it all about? Where did it come from?"

I had no answers; I was as shocked as my aunt. I might not be feeling the same level of guilt or shame as Hazel displayed, in fact I didn't feel too embarrassed about it at all, not really, I was too wound up by the experience, but I was mystified as to why my normally demure, well-spoken aunt had suddenly gone into one and exhibited herself in such a lewd way. I knew why I'd joined in, it was quite simply because I was young and perpetually horny, a walking hard-on most of the time, and some of it had come from the lookalike model in the dirty magazine I'd found. I didn't have much experience with women, hardly any in fact, and I might be a little awkward socially, too shy to just walk up to girls and strike up conversations, but I possessed a healthy libido and a vivid imagination, and watching my aunt masturbate, even though – or maybe because – Hazel is my mother's sister, had been the single most arousing event of my life.

"I dunno, Aunt Hazel. But please, don't be embarrassed or upset. It happened and we can't undo it."

"But what must you think of me, Carl? I mean ... the things I did, the things I said!" She dropped her head into her hands again.

"I think you're beautiful," Aunt Hazel." When I spoke the atmosphere changed immediately, suddenly charged with something indefinable as, without really thinking about it, acting on instinct, more came out of me. "When I saw you last night ... when you did it in front of me, well I wanted it to be true; I wanted us to be together somewhere. I thought about the two of us, in Paris in a hotel. In my head I saw us, well, you know, I saw us naked. We were in bed, Aunt Hazel, and we were kissing, properly kissing. You wanted to touch me. You wanted to suck me."

My stomach lurched and my heart began to race, a deep lub-lub in my chest. I felt my cock thicken when an arterial burst of sexual desire for my aunt exploded inside me.

"Carl," Hazel responded, her voice breaking with emotion after staring at me in silence for a time. I wasn't sure as to just which emotion my aunt might be working through behind wide eyes, her expression unreadable. I couldn't read her face, didn't know if she wanted me to continue or stop.

Then I got my answer, a response similar to the one I'd first delivered to Hazel the previous evening. "Please, Carl, you shouldn't talk like that."

I heard the words but also picked up my aunt's tone of voice. Something told me that, despite her protestations, Hazel wanted me to carry on. I'd been the same, hadn't I used the same words but hadn't really wanted Hazel to stop? For me it had been the guilt at holding incestuous thoughts about my aunt when I'd looked at the skinny blonde in the magazine, and I assumed this was the same thing.

Taking a deep breath and keeping my eyes locked on my aunt's, I added, "Didn't you see me, Hazel? Didn't you watch me while we both did it? I couldn't see much of you but I could see your fingers moving inside your knickers. I heard you moan, Aunty." Pausing, I slowly rose to my feet. "I'm hard now just thinking about it."

Hazel squirmed in her chair. She gripped the sides of the table so hard her knuckles blanched. "Carl ... Stop it, Carl ..."

Ignoring the plea I carried on. "You watched me do it," I murmured, my voice low and hypnotic. "You saw how excited I was, you watched me wank. You could see my cock, I couldn't see you, Aunt Hazel, I couldn't see between your legs. But I wanted to, wanted to look at you so much. I wanted to lick you down there." Reckless with lust by that time, I pawed at my erection through my jeans. My aunt gasped, her face twisted with anguish. "Shall I do it again, Aunty?" I breathed. "Do you want to watch me pull my cock?"

My fingers scrabbled at my zip as I sought in desperation to free my cock.

"There, Aunt Hazel," I groaned, my fist working at my length. "Look at that."

The narcotic bubble that had enveloped us both, popped.

"NO!" my aunt yelled, rising to her feet as her palm slapped against the table top. "Carl, don't. Stop it, don't do that anymore."

A wild and out of control desire surged through me. "Come on, Hazel," I gibbered, grinning as I tugged at myself. "Look at it. Just look at how stiff I am. It's for you, Aunty, and you can have it. Just come here and touch it. Feel it." I moaned and hissed the urgency I felt through gritted teeth, eyes bulging. "Open up that robe and let me see you. I want to see your body. I want to see your tits and pussy. Aunt Hazel, I want to fuck you."

"Carl! No, Carl." Hazel's palm slapped against the table again. "Stop it. Stop doing that, stop saying those things. For fuck's sake, Carl – ENOUGH!"

Hazel ran from the kitchen. The sound of her hitched breathing as the sobs welled in her chest deflated my ardour and the insanity melted away as quickly as it had come over me.

"Oh shit," I muttered as I stood in the kitchen, alone except for my cock slowly wilting in my fingers.

***

I'm living in my aunt's house because she just happens to own a place in the same city as the university. It all made sense, me moving in. She lives on her own as a divorcee; asks for a reasonable rent, nothing extortionate since she owns the house outright and is mortgage free. Of course me being her nephew helps keep the rent low, I know her and she knows me, we're family after all, and up until now we've lived together, rubbing along nicely as they say, for two easygoing years.

Now the wheels had come off the wagon in a spectacular crash, and the question was, where did we go from here? It seemed to me that I would probably have to move out, maybe find some digs with other students in town. Accommodation wouldn't be hard to come by, but I didn't much relish the idea of sharing a kitchen with half-a-dozen grungy students. I'd seen some of the shitholes my contemporaries lived in – basically a flophouse with a mattress on the floor for a bed and a penicillin crop mouldering away in the kitchen. However my most immediate and pressing concern was my future relationship with my Aunt Hazel.

Would she blab to my mother? I couldn't see it since it was hardly the kind of thing you dropped casually into a conversation:

yeah, the weather's been crap hasn't it, oh, by the way, I fingered myself in front of Carl and he tugged his cock while I watched. Yeah, I saw him cum, saw him spunk all over himself in the living room – I dunno if the stain will ever come out of the chair. Then, you'll never guess what he did, only flopped his cock out in the kitchen the following day. He wanted to lick my pussy and fuck me, too ...

No, I couldn't see Hazel mentioning anything to her sister, but then again, if you'd told me twenty-four hours earlier that my aunt would rub herself to orgasm in front of me, I'd have laughed in your face and called you delusional.

I suppose I felt bad because I'd carried on the way I had. It seemed that I'd misread my aunt completely, that she hadn't wanted to see my hard-on, nor did she want to watch me wank or have my tongue squirming into her opening. I'd upset her and caused her more anguish than she already felt. What we'd done, the lewd scene we'd both participated in was bad enough, and was obviously something she felt ashamed of, and now I'd embarrassed Hazel further, exacerbated the problem by letting myself get out of control. And I couldn't see any way of putting it right.