Aunt Matilda

"Really? A birthday party? At our age?" Cynthia asked, sounding exasperated. "Sara, you're finally going to be 18! It's not time for a kiddie party. It's time to go out clubbing! You'll finally be of legal age to party, even if we can't drink yet."

"I know, Cyn. But the club will still be there the week after. And my Aunt Matilda specifically said she wanted to host my eighteenth birthday party. She's coming all the way from France to do it, you know."

"I know, I know," Cynthia asserted. "And I know how important she's been in your life since your parents' death. That plane crash was tragic, and you're lucky that your aunt stepped in to make sure you were cared for and educated." She was gradually sounding more resigned to the concept of making Sara's Aunt Matilda happy, as she reflected on Sara's life.

Sara nodded, the sting of her parent's death 6 years ago still bringing a tear to her eye. "But Aunt Matilda was there for me, every step of the way. As my only living relative, she took charge, whether from a sense of obligation, or familial love, I was never sure. She came from France then, as well, and actually treated me like a young adult, soliciting my input. Together, we deemed it impractical for me to go live with her in Lyon, although I hope to travel there and see it sometime soon. She arranged for me to live at that exclusive boarding school for my care and education, where I met you and my other dear friends."

Cynthia smiled, remembering those early school days, and how they'd bonded. She also remembered the few times that Aunt Matilda had appeared at the boarding school, making sure her niece was happy and doing well. The dear old woman seemed rather staid and eccentric, but it was obvious she had a good heart. Sara's friends privately referred to her as a 'dear old thing' but they'd never say that directly to Sara. Why, the woman must be 40, if she's a day!

"I didn't tell you this, but Aunt Matilda also said she'll pay for anything I need at college, although my scholarship will help a lot with the tuition part," Sara shared.

"Wow! That's great!" Cynthia said, impressed. "She's sure a nice person." Cynthia's body language changed. "OK. OK. I'll be at your birthday party. Who else is coming?" Cynthia prayed the party wouldn't be too lame, but at least if there were enough friends, they might be able to salvage something fun from it.

"Most of our friends from school said they'll be there. Maybe fourteen or fifteen of us," Sara answered, smiling. "It'll be great to see them all again."

"Where's the party going to be held?" Cynthia asked.

"Aunt Matilda has some good friends in the next town. Apparently, they're off on a world tour or something, and have invited my aunt to use their home as long as she wishes. Aunt Matilda plans to have the party all set up by the time we arrive – food, decorations, the works." Sara paused, clearing her throat, signaling perhaps something disturbing. "Remember, though, the French sort of live in a different era when it comes to entertainment. For instance, they adore Jerry Lewis. Their pop music is a decade or two behind ours as well, I fear. However, they're more lenient about drinking, so we might get to have wine."

Cynthia shrugged. "Well, we'll just have to make the most of it. After all, how bad could it be?"

The day of the party arrived. It was bad, indeed.

Sara and her friends felt really silly, wearing the 'party hats' that Aunt Matilda handed out – they hadn't worn such things since they were about eleven. And noisemakers? Really? These silly little horns to blow, or the ones that uncoiled as you blew into them – did this woman think they were children? The punch was non-alcoholic, the letters on a string that spelled out 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' were tacky. And the music – oh my god, the music! Did the French still like disco? Still, every single friend knew Aunt Matilda's importance in Sara's life. And she was a dear lady, so they were on their best behavior, pretending to have fun. If they glanced at their watches, wondering when it would be polite to leave, they did it with stealth. They figured they had to remain at least until the cake was cut and served. What a bore!

They made a valiant attempt to chatter animatedly – catching up about things that'd happened since they were last together. But mostly about their times together at school. At least those were fond memories. At one point, Cynthia whispered to Sara, "We're running out of things to talk about. When can we cut your cake?"

"I'm afraid we have to wait for the clown Aunt Matilda hired for the party," Sara whispered back, trying not to sound mortified, and failing. "She said we had to wait for the arrival of Mr. Coconuts."

Cynthia's eyes bulged, as she hissed, "What? We're waiting for a clown? Oh my god. Oh my god. Will we have to put up with balloon animals? Laughing at stupid pranks? Squirting with seltzer water? Pratfalls?"

Sara's cheeks blushed pink. "I know," she said quietly. "I may never live this down. But please, please, try to hold it together. It's only one evening." Her dear friend nodded sadly. The two of them quietly shared the fact about the clown with the rest of their friends, so no one would act shocked when he finally arrived. The most common reaction, upon hearing the news, was an eye roll, and a softly whispered, "Whatever... that seems to fit the theme of this party, all right." The pinkness of Sara's cheeks was gradually becoming crimson.

Aunt Matilda was trying to be the perfect Hostess, chatting, making sure Sara's friends had refills of the punch, and so on. Finally, the doorbell rang. "That should be Mr. Coconuts!" Aunt Matilda exclaimed happily, even clapping her hands together with joy. "I'll help him get ready. Prepare yourselves for a real treat!" She left the room.

The young women quickly huddled. Bethany spoke for the others. "Sara, we all love you, and we love your Aunt Matilda. We also really wish you a happy birthday. But... but..." She actually didn't know what to say, she realized.

Sara smiled sadly. "I understand. I can't figure out if Aunt Matilda thinks we're still twelve, or maybe she has the happiest memories of her early birthdays, and she's trying to relive them, or what. I appreciate how you're all hanging in there, and being gracious, and polite to her. Cynthia and I are already making plans to go clubbing next week. You can all join us then, if you want. But let's grit our teeth a little longer, and try to keep Aunt Matilda happy. OK?" They all nodded.

After perhaps ten minutes, the disco music was replaced with a sound track that started with what sounded like the horn section of a band, interspersed with whistles. After that intro, the young women recognized that it was another 'oldie' song, as Donna Summers started singing 'Bad Girls' – at least this music had a dance beat to it.

Aunt Matilda re-entered the room, and jaws dropped as Sara and her friends saw that she was leading a man on a leash! And what a man! He was a large, muscular black man, at least six and a half feet tall! Moreover, he was completely naked, except for a red clown nose, and the dog collar around his neck.

"Ladies, meet Mr. Coconuts," Aunt Matilda announced. She got a rather coquettish smile on her face as she used one hand to lift his enormous, fully erect cock slightly up toward the ceiling, so her other hand could partially cradle his over-sized testicles in her palm. "I think you can tell why he's called 'Mr. Coconuts' now. As you youngsters say – let's get this party started!"

Some of Sara's friends hadn't been facing the right direction to see that entrance. When they casually turned, they did a classic double-take with their necks moving so fast that they almost fell over. A few of the others rubbed their eyes in disbelief. Some tried to pretend they weren't staring at his crotch, which made each darting glance that they took all the more obvious. Other than the blaring music, there wasn't another sound – not a peep from the party-goers, whose faces could have been used for a 'shock and awe' illustration for a dictionary.

A consummate professional, Mr. Coconuts began dancing to the music, letting a huge inviting smile spread across his face. His muscles rippled, his hips made humping thrusts, and his gigantic dong bobbed and weaved its way through the air like a magic wand. Those gyrations broke the 'spell' and the eighteen-year old women started screaming with nervous delight.

Whenever he danced near one of them, that young woman invariably moved back, avoiding contact with the fleshy club he was swinging. "Oh for heaven's sake," Aunt Matilda called out. "It won't bite. Sara, this is your party, so you show them how it's done." As her aunt named her, Sara's friends stepped away a pace or two, leaving her in an isolated space. "Touch it. Stroke it. Mr. Coconuts expects you want to play with it. In fact, he'd be disappointed if you don't. Isn't that right, Mr. Coconuts?"

His teeth gleamed as he raised his arms, dancing over to Sara, saying, "Riiiiiight! Come on girl. Don't be afraid. Give it a tug. Tell your friends what it feels like."

The tip of the cock was almost poking Sara's belly, but she held her ground. She'd actually touched boy's cocks when dating, but never a monster like this! Her hand seemed to move of its own volition, and took hold of the dark rod of flesh. Its shaft was almost ebony in color, and the swollen glans at its tip was a deep brown. Her second hand joined its partner, resulting in a grip similar to what Sara used on her tennis racket. But this shaft had more girth, and was warm and smooth.

Her friends watched, noting how Sara's eyelids rose up high and her pupils dilated as she held that tubular hunk of man flesh, with her mouth forming an 'O' of awe. Mr. Coconut's dance movements now made the shaft move forward and back in Sara's hands, as if she was pumping him. "Cyn, come over here!" Sara exclaimed. "You've gotta feel this!"

Cynthia went to her, slowly and tentatively, but when she was close enough, Sara grabbed her wrist and guided her hand to the erection. Cynthia's eyes and mouth soon duplicated Sara's actions as she felt the cock in her hands. The ice was broken. Other friends moved closer. Other arms stretched out. There was enough room along that massive shaft for about six of them to make contact at the same time! Meanwhile, hearing 'in for a penny, in for a pound' in her mind, Sara reached beneath the cock and lifted one of Mr. Coconuts' balls, gasping at the size and heft of it. No boy she'd ever fondled had anything close to this inside his scrotum.

Aunt Matilda was pleased to see Sara's friends overcoming their fears and shyness, and the party was finally coming to life. Sara broke away from the pack to run over and give her aunt a great big hug and a kiss. "What a fantastic idea!" she burbled, looking her aunt in the eye. "You're so full of surprises, Auntie! Thank you! Thank you! My friends will never forget this birthday party!"

Smiling, her aunt picked up her cell phone. "I'm thrilled that you're pleased, my dear. And I'm glad to see that none of your friends screamed and left. I'll need your help in a moment, but first let me fire off this text." Her fingers darted on the keyboard.

As always, Sara was amazed at her aunt's grasp of both technology and American idioms. People might think of her as old and/or eccentric, but she was neither. Well, OK. Maybe her music was sort of behind the times. But Sara strongly suspected that the party hats, noisemakers, disco music, etc. was really just a setup, to make the real party that much more of a surprise. She was glad that none of her friends had skipped out early. Man, would they have been disappointed if they'd done so.

Text sent, Aunt Matilda said, "Come help me fetch these," and led Sara into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she began handing Sara several spray cans containing whipped cream, taking the rest in her own hands.

Sara's eyes took on the startled look of a deer caught in headlights. "Are these for... You don't mean that... Are we supposed to..." She stopped and gulped.

"Yes, yes, and yes," Aunt Matilda answered, giggling. "It's great fun. And if any of those young friends of yours are on diets, I think they can handle a little whipped cream, regardless." They returned to the main room. Mr. Coconuts was still dancing as well as he could, with a press of young women against him from every side, and small, soft hands feeling every part of his anatomy that they could reach.

Sara and her aunt distributed the cans of whipped cream. Sara's friends looked confused as they accepted the cold metal containers. Victoria finally asked, "Are we serving the cake now? Is that what these are for?"

Aunt Matilda laughed, looking at their bewildered expressions. "I guess I'll have to show you." She stepped in front of the happily bobbing and weaving black man, as the young ladies parted to give her room. Shaking the can briskly, she sprayed a nice dollop of whipped cream right on the head of Mr. Coconut's cock. Then, before the now owl-like expressions of the onlookers, she stretched her mouth wide, and engulfed whipped cream and cock head in one slow, sensuous inhalation.

As Sara and her friends made sounds like 'ooo' and 'aah' with breathy exhalations of longing, they watched Aunt Matilda hold her head still while the dancer's hip movements made his cock fuck her mouth. Finally, Aunt Matilda pressed her lips together tighter and backed them off the dick. The glans emerged, glistening with saliva, without a trace of whipped cream. Sara's aunt grasped the cock head with her thumb and first two fingers, and sprayed a small stream of whipped cream along the top of its shaft. Tilting her head, she pressed one corner of her mouth against the base of his glans, keeping her other mouth corner higher than the cream. As she slid her lips along the top of his dick shaft, inhaling through her mouth, the cream disappeared into her open maw as if like magic. For good measure, she finished by giving the entire cock a long lick.

"I couldn't do that," Stephanie moaned. "Could I?" she whispered.

"You'll never get a better chance, Steph," Sara giggled. "So we're all to sample whipped cream off his dick?" Sara asked her aunt.

"My dears," Aunt Matilda addressed the entire group. "Mr. Coconuts and his friends are well-paid professionals. You can certainly taste his cock, with or without whipped cream. But that's not all. If you want him to lick your tits or your cunt, with or without whipped cream on them, just let him know. If you want him to fuck your tits, pussy, or even your ass, you have only to ask or indicate what you want. He's here to serve you tonight, and give you pleasure."

This statement caused an excited swell of chatter between various pockets of nervously giggling females. They were trying to process what they'd heard, repeating some of the phrases. One anonymous voice quavered disbelievingly, "Guys put their dicks into our ass holes?" She was answered with laughing affirmations that this was indeed the case, at least on such rare occasions when the female in question granted them permission. The consensus among the experienced ones was that for some reason, many men seemed to have a particular fascination with using that hole sexually.

When the room had quieted enough, as the women were making decisions about how to take advantage of this unique opportunity, Sara spoke. "Auntie, I think I heard you say something like 'Mr. Coconuts and his friends' during your explanation. What did you mean by that?"

"I'm glad you asked, Sara. When I saw that your friends were not averse to sexy play and took a quick head count, I knew Mr. Coconuts, skilled as he is, couldn't handle this many women in one night. That's why I sent that text for reinforcements." The doorbell rang just as she finished. "Talk about timing," she chuckled. "I'll be right back."

Stephanie was tentatively licking at a dab of whipped cream she'd placed on Mr. Coconut's black cock, as two friends encouraged her, when Aunt Matilda re-entered the room. Three tall, handsome, completely naked men were with her. They were obviously ready to party, since all their cocks were already stiff. "Let me make the introductions," she called out, getting everyone's attention. "This is El Toro," she said, moving to the Latino man. Grasping his dick she added, "You can see he's hung like a bull." There were a few quiet gasps as they regarded that appendage.

"And this is Mount Vesuvius," she stated, stepping close to a strapping Italian man. Taking hold of his cock, she explained, "This has been known to give massive eruptions." A happy titter circulated through the onlookers.

"Last, but not least, we have Mr. Blarney Stones here," she said, standing next to an Irish man that looked a lot like Colin Farrell. "That's right, I did say 'stones' plural. Lifting his well endowed manhood out of the way, she pointed at his clean-shaven,well proportioned testicles. "He assures me that anyone that kisses these, will surely gain the gift of gab, and become an expert at flattery, isn't that so?" she asked him.

He flashed a devil-may-care grin and answered, "Ah sure, it'll be grand," in an accent that made several female knees wobble, including Sara's, just hearing it. What is it about that accent that makes a woman want to fall onto her back, knees spreading apart accommodatingly?

Anyway, Aunt Matilda announced, "Since this is Sara's birthday party, she gets the honor of kissing the Blarney Stones first. She has to do this the traditional way its done in Ireland, bending over backward, so I think we'll need three assistants. Hmmm... you, you, and you, please." She pointed at Cynthia, Victoria, and Bethany. She rubbed her chin, as if in thought. "Sara, I think you'd better remove your blouse for this."

Sara looked surprised, but grinned impishly, and started undoing her blouse buttons. There was a collective sound of 'whooohooo' of naughty joy from the other ladies. Once Sara shrugged her blouse off, she reached behind herself, unhooked her bra, and tossed it, stating, "I declare this to be a topless birthday party!" These women were used to seeing and playing with each other from their time at the boarding school, so this unleashed an even louder 'whooohooo' from the rest as they began following suit, removing their party tops, including Aunt Matilda. Sara learned that her aunt had a gorgeous pair of tits! Addressing her, she asked, "What do I do?"

Her aunt explained, "Turn your back to him, and start bending backwards. Two of your friends stand on either side of you, locking their arms together behind your back to support you as your torso goes horizontal."

Victoria and Cynthia grasped each other's arm near the elbow, forming a cradle, which Sara leaned back on. "But what do I do?" asked Bethany.

"Your job is to hold Mr. Blarney Stones' huge salami of a cock fully up out of the way, so we can watch what Sara's doing," she told Bethany, who blushed, but gamely grasped the dick in question and lifted it up, almost against his belly.

With small, mincing steps, Sara's friends maneuvered her into position under the huge, dangling scrotum. People crowded in, spellbound. Cynthia and Veronica 'stabilized' Sara by each grabbing one of her breasts with their free hands. Careful observers might have noted that their hands didn't just grasp her tit – they were squeezing and kneading it, as well, raising no complaint at all from Sara.

Sara wet her lips with a darting pink tongue and then gave each testicle a resounding smooch through their smooth skin, with Aunt Matilda recording the moment with her digital camera. Sara decided she wanted more. She opened her lips wide, and sucked in one of those prodigious testicles! Once it was in her mouth she sucked at it, while batting it gently with her warm, wet tongue, generating a wonderful moaning sound from its owner. She let that ball pop from her mouth and promptly sucked in the other.