Don't Touch!

Don't Touch!

Aunt Gloria trains him

******Short and hot, stories in this series are meant for those of you ready to get off in about 3500 words*******

That six weeks with Aunt Gloria in 2012 still seemed like the longest six weeks of his life. John often remembered her lessons when he encountered a new cougar and had to find just what pleased her. This time, as he lay between Magda's thighs slowly coaxing the joy from her body with his tongue, his mind wandered back to one particularly powerful afternoon in Gloria's Midland Beach living room eleven years before.

Magda was one of those women who needed a long cunnilingus session to reach release and she probably had some fantasy in her head to help her get there. He'd seen the Outlander book on her bedside table. She was probably imagining being bedded by a swarthy, kilted highlander. So John didn't feel guilty remembering that afternoon with Gloria. It kept him hard while he was muff-munching Magda toward her happy ending. Besides, before they were done Magda would return the favor with her talented mouth.

********

"You see that shaker bench in the front hall, John?" his aunt called when he arrived that day, "Bring it in here, will ya?"

He and Gloria'd been sneaking for a few weeks since the cast came off. Usually, he'd come to her house on the pretext of home improvement. But they'd also had sex in her car and against a tree up in High Rock Park near the girl scout camp. That was pretty crazy. He knew Gloria'd have some exciting new adventure in mind when they got together. So he didn't think it strange that she asked for the bench.

About six feet long, It had a slatted wooden back and slightly splayed legs, plain and functional, heavy, solid chestnut, it appeared. As a carpenter he could appreciate the simplicity and artistry of the piece. It was a remnant of the once common tree, gone to the blight. He and his father had worked with a lot of chestnut moldings in the pre-1900 houses on Staten Island. When John carried it into the living room he found Aunt Gloria standing with colorful cloths in her hands, wrapped in a long, white cottony robe, looking fresh from the shower, her sandy hair up in a towel. Through the drawn curtains the summer sun cast a dim golden light into the room.

"I think a lesson in delayed gratification is what you need today, my handsome man," smiled the older woman, "put it right here," indicating a bare wall.

"That's what she said," chuckled John, moving to wrap her in his arms. Moist, she smelled of sour apple and salt. They kissed, slowly and tenderly. The black four-inch fuck me pumps were a favorite of hers. He pulled her up onto her tiptoes, ready to rip off her robe and throw her down on the couch. Gloria knew her man and pushed herself out of his arms, looked him playfully in the eyes.

"I'm gonna make you beg for it today, young stud," she teased while taking the towel from her head and shaking out her hair, "take off your clothes."

He happily complied, eyeing her as he did. The vintage Black Sabbath t-shirt hit the floor first, then his work boots and socks. Gloria ran a red-painted fingernail down from his clavicle, across his right nipple and slowly along the washboard of his belly, to rest against the rim of his 501s. She hooked a finger in the waistband and pulled herself against him, the soft robe rubbing his alert flesh.

Turning up her face for a kiss she said, "Strip a little slower...and I'll strip for you."

When she settled herself on the couch, keeping her knees demurely closed, John tried his best to channel a Chippendale. He did the snake with his midsection, letting her get an eyeful of those abs. He flexed like Schwartzenegger in his prime, turning his denim-hugged buns to her. The broad and wicked smile she gave him was enough to make him lightheaded. John popped the top button to show Gloria the dark trail of hair disappearing into his jeans.

"Yeah, boy! Shake that thang..." she teased. John knew she could see the swollen rod of his cock hanging down his tight, right pants leg - her eyes were riveted. Gloria had her arms firmly crossed at her chest. He supposed it felt good to her to squeeze her breasts that way. She bit her lip, looking most coquettish for a forty-something woman. He liked to think she could barely hold herself back.

John took his time popping each button, gyrating his hips as he went, showing more flesh, more dark curly hairs. He turned to the side and bent a little, slid the denim down and over his glutes. He turned his back to her and pushed the 501s down his thighs. Looking back over his shoulder he stroked himself, knowing she knew what he was doing.

"You want some?" he asked, flexing his ass. Gloria just laughed and made a hurry-up gesture with her hand. But he kept up the concealed stroking for a bit, letting her watch his tricep pump and his broad shoulders move. She had told him she liked seeing his big rough hands abusing his own pole. He heard her sigh.

Finally, he turned with his jeans halfway down and a handful of purpled cock to face her.

The tip was shiny already and her eyes caught that detail. Gloria licked her lips. Was she thirsty today? John bent to conceal his organ and pull the 501s all the way off as gracefully as he could. He rose up slowly and stood with his hands on his hips, his cock bobbing to his heartbeat and looking directly in the older woman's greedy eyes.

"How do you want it today?" he asked.

"Today...today, young man, what I want is to hear you beg for it."

He playfully got on his knees and put his hands in a prayerful clasp. "Please, Gloria, please can I have some pussy?"

"No. And no, not like that. When I say you're going to beg for it, I mean we're both gonna earn your reward." She stood and approached him with the colored cloths. "Sit on the bench now," she directed.

John sat and she tied one wrist far to his right and the other far to his left. Using a wide belt strapped across his midsection and around the slats she secured his hips to the bench. His cock stood tall in his lap. Gloria surveyed her work appreciatively. She leaned in to give him a long, lingering kiss, then with an affectionate pat on the knob of his organ, stepped away.

"That's the last time I'm gonna touch your cock, today."

"What?" It tingled mightily already.

"You might come without me touching you and you might not. But I probably will. I know I will."

John tested his bonds. They were tight enough to keep him from all but the smallest of movements. He couldn't even thrust his hips. He supposed he could stand and carry the bench on his back, but he didn't relish falling on his face or on his cock with that weight to push him down. But Gloria always had pleasure as the goal of these adventures - he'd play along.

Aunt Gloria strode across the oriental rug in the heels and keyed up some jazz. Then she stood and looked at him for a long time as the music turned the dim room into a den of secret surprises.

She planted her feet wide and ran one hand along the edge of the robe, pulling at the sash with the other. Her eyes, heavy-lidded and smiling, watched his cock bob. John spread his legs to let his testicles dangle onto the cool seat. Gloria turned her back, pulling the robe from one shoulder. After these few weeks John thought he knew her body pretty well. He imagined the terrycloth sliding down, showing those sharp shoulder blades and the knobby strip of her spine. But when she let the top drop, it revealed a crimson and gauzy gown with a thin, black lace along the edges. She turned her side to him and showed the profile of one exquisite, full breast hidden in the filmy, red fabric. John could just make out the puffy, dark areola, the nipple stiff, pointing at the ceiling.

Gloria moved one step closer and turned to face the tied youth, then pulled the robe apart. She tossed it aside carelessly and put her hands on her hips. The black-edged red gown reached to the woman's knees, making a soft red cloud around her body.

"Tell me your favorite time we've done it," she said, running a finger along the black lace in the cleavage at her right breast and pulling gently at the thin strap, teasing a glimpse of the nipple.

"Oh, that's a hard one..." mused John.

"That's what she said," chuckled Gloria, looking pointedly at his meat. She came a step closer. If he hadn't been tied he could have touched her. He could smell her musk mixed in the sour apple. She flashed one tit, then covered it again. Reflexively his head moved forward and he licked his lips. He knew the chewy, sweetness of that nipple well. The bindings were noticeably binding now. John's instinct was to take her in his arms and get a breast in his mouth.

"Come on, stud, what's been your favorite?" Gloria seemed to relish his helplessness, waving her bosom in his face and slowly peeling one side of the gown from a mammary. But this was just the second layer - under it another gauzy, red cloud concealed the breast. Or mostly, anyway. John saw it had a slit, parted by the woman's fat nipple.

She pulled the slitted fabric apart and left that juicy jug hanging out, jiggling it teasingly while one hand plucked at the hem of the garment and eased it upward. A firm, tanned thigh slowly appeared. John tried to run his foot up her leg and she moved back, laughing. When he dropped his foot she came closer. He reached again and she moved back. John was a quick study - he gave up trying to paw her with his toes.

Gloria pulled the other cup off, now with one tit out, one with a nipple through the slit. John could hardly think about other times, but when she moved back and tapped her foot impatiently, he offered, "That time we played strip hide-and-seek."

"Because it took so long?" She revealed the other breast completely, the fleshy, full melons framed in the red and black fabric. "I should have worn more clothes to start with that time."

"Well, you knew the best places to hide, anyway." He remembered how they'd taken turns concealing themselves around her house and losing a piece of clothing each time they'd been found. It was a fun foreplay. Kinda kinky to be hiding in her broom closet in just his briefs. But when she found him and they came off...

Now she stood between his legs and those tits swung just inches away. "You want a taste?" Gloria said, leaning in, bringing them teasingly close to his mouth. His cock strained upward into thin air as she leaned over it. Placing a hand on each shoulder she brought a nipple to his lips. He 'mmmmmm'd', savoring the rubbery, bumpy tissue, trying to suck it fully into his mouth.

"Ahhhhh," was all she answered. He suckled for a long time and Gloria swayed, moving him from one tit to the other. It was all he could do not to try to tear his hands free. His knob pulsed, oozed. "Feeling it, are you?" Gloria smiled, "Look at big boy drooling for me."

"Rrrrrrr," was all John could add.

Aunt Gloria put one foot on each side of his thighs on the bench, pulled herself up and teetered on the four-inch heels, one hand on the wall. The crimson gown hung between his face and her body. She dragged up the hem slowly, revealing toned thighs, a black, lacy high-cut panty and her smooth bowl of peach-fuzzed belly. She tossed the top aside and looked down at him, framed in the slitted bra and panties, breasts outlined in red and black lace. Her hand reached down and her fingers disappeared into the crotch. The panties were slitted, too. Pulling the lace aside, Gloria showed him her glistening, meaty vulva and smirked.

"You know what to do, John," she purred. She put both hands on his head and carefully but insistently pressed her most delicate parts against his face.

He did know what to do, yes, he did. His mouth had been watering the whole time. To finally taste that musk on his tongue made his balls draw up and his cock strain. It sensed how close her hot flesh hovered. He thrust unconsciously as he lapped at her, driving his nose deep so he could press his tongue along her labia and draw out her juice. She cocked her hips into his mouth, mewling as he worked. John knew to go gently and rhythmically along that channel, to find that pearl and tease it for a while, to press his tongue along the creases between her thigh and labia, to probe softly between the folds, to pull the inner lips out with his teeth unexpectedly, to run a broad wet tongue from asshole to clit. Her weeks of training him paid off in a shriek from his aunt and her grinding her pelvis against his jaw as she peaked. Quivering, she leaned one forearm against the wall above his head and moved herself on his mouth, her knees against his shoulders. John kept on licking, his chin wet, gasping for air when not clamped between her clenching thighs.

Surely, she'd give him a turn now?

But Gloria rocked on his mouth and nursed another shuddering climax from his tongue before shakily stepping down from the bench, leaving him hard and dripping. His face was shiny and smelled of pussy. He liked it.

The older woman disappeared into the kitchen for a minute and came back with a glass of water. She tipped it to his lips and he gratefully felt it pour down his throat both inside and out. He noticed the jazz again and the slanting golden sunlight that made a halo around her sandy hair. The scraps of red gracing her body took ten years off. Not that he cared. Obviously.

He was as hard and hungry as he'd ever been. They were both staring at his erect cock, the crown stretched and purple, the trail of his fluid running down the shaft, glistening. The ooze tickled his balls, making a pearlescent pool on the bench. All he was conscious of feeling was the hot pulse of his knob and its desire to be buried deep in Aunt Gloria. His tongue had a taste, but his cock wanted the full meal.

"You have quite the aura right now, darling," she said, moving to lean over him again and hover her hands over his body. It was that crazy Reiki shit that she talked about sometimes. Of course he could feel her hands even though they were a half inch away from his flesh. His whole body was on fire with the need to be touched. Slowly she outlined him with her hands, sinking to her knees between his thighs. He remembered his first fantasy of her that first lunchtime that she'd found him in his room, leg in a cast, and suggested that there might be a physical thing between them. In his imagination, then, she'd knelt before him and showed her breasts then stroked him all over them. It was both a fantasy and a reality after these last weeks.

And here Gloria was again on her knees, breasts proudly displayed, smiling. But she said, "I'm not touching your cock, John."

"I remember...you saying that just to make it worse?"

"Watch me not touching your cock..." she smiled. Gloria's hands hovered across his thighs and made a pair of parentheses around his meaty organ where it stood tall. She moved them up and down and he could swear he felt it. The cock twitched and she barely avoided the touch. She laughed, though. Fun for her maybe. John had never had to hold off of stroking himself when he was this horny before. Most all those prodigious erections had ended in spunk sprayed somewhere. His cock called out for relief. His body trembled now in his restraints. Sweat slicked his ass on the bench. He looked angrily at his aunt.

"It's not fair..."

"Cause I had an orgasm?"

"A couple!!"

"It's not like a gentleman to keep score. I told you that." She smiled mischievously up at him while her fingers moved fractions of an inch from his heated flesh. And she leaned closer. That mouth! That wet, soft, mobile mouth could get him off so good! She lay one heavy breast on his thigh and held her face over his cock, looked sideways at him, grinning. "I bet it tastes especially tart about now."

Her warm breath moved across his taut, blood-engorged shaft. The juices seeping from his tip welled up and ran down. His balls tingled with the fire of the pool of spunk both inside and outside of them.

"So close..." He moved his head back and forth in frustration. The image of her dropping that mouth just an inch to take him was a torment. He knew the velvet glide of those full lips across his corona and how she could draw out the sensation of their parting around his wide knob. He longed to feel them closing around his thickest part before she pressed him deep to her molars. Now he watched her spread her lips and stick out her tongue above his tip, letting a drop of spit run to his cockhead. John quivered, watching it stretch and connect across that merest of gaps. The drop was warm as it ran down the shaft.

He was going to come. That first flicker of the explosion warmed in his spine. His body tensed and fought the restraints. How could he come if he couldn't move? John felt the pressure of his release as a heating of his flesh, as a clenching of every muscle. He didn't have control. He could feel the orgasm about to be ripped from his restrained body.

Then the intense thrill of a fingernail trailing across his balls as she looked at him and smiled wickedly. John's body spasmed and a bolus of white shot upward to splash across her teeth. Another bolt flew and Gloria opened her mouth for it, took it and let it drain back out as the next erupted. His back flexed, his hips jerked, his arms strained to break free, the bench hopped across the floor as he convulsed and Gloria hung on, trying so hard to take all his cock was spouting, like it was a sport for her. If he had to break his arms to get his knob in a hot, wet hole his body seemed intent on doing that. He was going to be bruised tomorrow.

Finally, mercy. Gloria lowered her mouth onto his spurting, purple organ and clamped her lips to capture his thick semen. She hummed deep in her throat and he convulsed helplessly again and again as she drained his balls. Still no hands, though, just that hot, wet mouth and muscular tongue working the knob while the shaft shone in the golden afternoon light. Slowly he melted into the bench and he noticed the strain at his wrists, the hardness of the seat. He could hardly hold his head up.

"You happy, Aunt Gloria?" he murmured.

Gloria licked and suckled at his softening organ delicately, caringly, seeking out all the splattered seed. Finally, she looked up with his spunk smeared across her face and said, "Oh, no... you know what this means, John. We have to start all over again."

If you've made it to the end, may I ask for a comment, please? The benefit to you is that I'll be much more encouraged to write and to write more often. Your feedback makes my stories better. Thanks for reading. (If you have constructive criticism, please be specific)