Kissing Mum's Friend Goodnight Ch. 02

All characters are over the age of 18

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Sue got into bed and started to shake with anger and shock. The more she thought about it the more outrageous his behaviour appeared. Her heart was beating fast.

But other thoughts sprang to her mind and raced away with her, too.

It was true that she had been teasing him since she came to stay, that she had enjoyed the barely concealed lust in his eyes. She had to admit that she had been embarrassed but turned-on to see his erection form and move in his trousers, and had found herself wondering whether he masturbated to the thought of her. The idea disgusted her. Her "nephew", the son of her best friend, feeling so aroused by her that he jacked off, imagining her as he came.

It was an image that she chose not to dwell upon. At first. But then the thought of his hand pumping up and down as he gritted his teeth and called her to mind seemed erotic as well as obscene. The thought that perhaps he felt so powerfully aroused by her gave her a warm – and naughty – feeling. Surely, though – or at least, so she had thought until tonight – Mike wasn't that sort of lad. Was he?

Now the image came back to her mind again. And, again, it both disgusted her and appealed to her.

The seediness of his barely hidden desire for aroused her, too, the more so given their age difference and that they were almost family. She felt guilty for encouraging him to think of her sexually. She felt guilty for having enjoyed his attention. Until tonight.

Tonight he had been way out of order. To have touched her boob would have been bad enough. But to have kissed her there seemed far more sexual, less impetuous, more planned and calculating. He had overstepped the mark big time. And yet... she found herself denying it, but the truth was that the very boldness and outrageousness of his behaviour turned her on as well as angered her.

The question was whether to tell his mother, Angela. They had been close since their late teens, and head helped each other through difficult times. Telling her what had happened could ruin all that. But not to tell would be harder.

Another thought kept coming to her mind that was hard to drive away or even to answer. "Why did I flirt with him in the first place? And not just flirt – I encouraged him to think of me sexually with the way I left my underwear in full view – even my stockings, when Angela wasn't around! And – oh, hell, it wasn't exactly subtle to put them out after she had left the house and retrieve them again just before she came home!"

She tried to justify her earlier actions and told herself that she had meant them simply as an innocent flirt but deep down she knew that she had done it to see how he reacted. The simple fact was that he had called her bluff.

Her mind also went back to the DVD she had suggested they watch earlier that evening. She hated to admit it, but she had chosen it partly for its racy scenes, to watch his reaction – and she had thought it would be fun to watch him and see if he sprouted an erection. And – though she tried to argue it away – when he had, she had been aroused by the lewd sight, and aroused further to see it move, snake-like, in his trousers.

The truth was that she was partly to blame. She knew it, even though she was loath to admit it. She had actively led him along and he had reacted as she guessed her might. It was more unsettling to think that she had in fact responded in the way that she almost hoped he might. And now the ball was back where it had begun – in her court. She had to decide the next course of action. To tell, or not to tell. Of course there was a third possible course of action. She dismissed it out of hand, but it dogged her as she debated whether to tell his mother or ignore what had happened and make it clear to him that he must never act in such a way again.

An image formed in her head. She was creeping into Mike's room in the middle of the night, slipping under the bedclothes, snuggling up to him. He stirred but she shushed him and they began to make love – or maybe just have sex – silently, softly, so as not to wake his mother, asleep in the next room – and feeling ashamed, afraid and almost electrically charged with the whole illicit scenario.

She was shocked by the image and tried to drive it away. But its naughtiness stirred her. And she found it hard to escape its beckoning allure. It had been many months since she had had sex. She missed it. Tonight was, among other things, a reminder just how much she missed it. But – hell, surely the answer didn't lie with her best friend's son, she reasoned.

Then again and again she focussed her mind on that outrageous kiss. He had overstepped the mark. Big time.

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Mike waited for a good hour before going upstairs himself. He smiled wryly to think that this night when he had attempted to seduce his "aunt" was the only night so far of her stay that he had no inclination to masturbate at the thought of her. His nerves were on edge. He felt genuinely bad to have treated her in such a way, and to risk spoiling what had always been a close and special relationship. He also not only feared what his mother's reaction would be if Aunt Sue told her what he had done. He truly feared ruining the strong friendship that his mother and she had enjoyed over many years. He could not decide whether it would be better if his mother blamed him entirely, or whether he would prefer it if she blamed Sue as well for encouraging him. Once more he cursed his stupidity.

He washed, brushed his teeth, and stepped towards his bedroom. He noticed that Sue's bedroom light was not on, but that his was. He decided that he must have forgotten to switch it off. He pushed his bedroom door open and gasped audibly with surprise at the sight that greeted him. But, though his feet remained frozen to the spot, his eyes moved plenty.

"Aunt" Sue was standing sideways-on to the doorway, looking towards him. Her left leg was bent at the knee and her foot was resting on his bed. She was wearing her white satin camisole. It hugged each of her smallish breasts deliciously, and her nipples jutted against it. The lace trim drew his eye to the pale skin of the tops of her modest, shapely orbs, and to her shallow cleft.

She looked at him with an inscrutable expression. She was wearing flimsy black satin panties, and a black suspender belt adorned her waist. Her slender (though relatively short) legs were clad in sheer, black stockings that shone a little. Like her stockings, her camisole and her panties shimmered alluringly. She was wearing high stiletto shoes. They were bright red. The black, white and red contrasted deliciously with each other and with the paleness of her skin.

She ran one hand teasingly up and down the leg that was resting on the bed. It was an overtly teasing and sexual action, and immediately he felt a tightening in his groin. Her legs were not long, but they looked longer in her red stiletto heels. At the same time he was very afraid of what she was going to say. Her facial expression betrayed no emotion other than a slight strain, which could have been anger, fear or even arousal, possibly even a mixture. It was simply impossible to guess.

With a thrill he realised that all the lingerie she was wearing he had caressed, stroked, nuzzled and kissed (along with other clothes of hers) while they were draped on the clothes maiden. Now, at last, and beyond his wildest expectation, here she was standing before him, alone in the house with him, and in his bedroom! – wearing nothing but them. Under her black panties her bum cheeks looked firm and shapely, and part of each was exposed by the cut of the fabric panties. Her pale skin contrasted deliciously with the black fabric. He raced his eyes up and down her black suspenders, one stretched taut and the other slack, and over the pale skin of her thighs above her stockingtops. He glanced back to her red stilettos.

She sat down at the top of the bed with her slender legs parted and with one knee bent and drawn towards her chin. His gaze drifted to the black triangle of her panties between her thighs, then back to the bright red of her shoes against her black stockings. She motioned to him to join her, but gestures to the bottom of the bed rather than beside her. Her expression was still aloof, and impossible to interpret, and her continuing silence made the atmosphere incredibly tense.

He felt a knot of fear tighten in his stomach.

He found the tension both an agony and an arousal as she stared at him without speaking. Despite his fear he risked a glance at her small, firm breasts under her camisole. It might be his imagination, but he thought her nipples looked a bit harder than they had when he entered the room.

Rather than sit, he lay on his side across the bed, at ninety degrees to her as she sat at the top and facing towards the foot of the bed. He was afraid and had no idea how things would unfold. He supposed she was teasing him like this as a punishment, to make him feel uncomfortable. After all, he told himself, she could not be tempting him for real – not after his lewd kiss and her consequent outrage. No, he reasoned, this must be some kind of kinky payback.

"As well as playing that trick on me tonight, you've been playing with my underwear, haven't you?" It was a statement, not a question.

The sudden snapping of the tense silence made him jump. He blushed and nodded, but, to her surprise, he held her gaze with his.

She had intended to stare him out, but she ended up looking away before he did as doubts crowded into her mind. She was annoyed with herself, and tried to regain her courage.

But she was impressed by his bravado in admitting it without resorting to snivelling and pleading with her not to tell his mother. She looked at him again. He held her gaze. She stared back. This time it was he who looked away from her face. Not at the floor, the bed, or the wall, though, but at her breasts, and at her legs.

His sheer nerve and the overtness of his lecherous look even while she was chiding him for his inappropriate behaviour and unsolicited advance infuriated her. But his coolness and lewdness partly thrilled her, too.

"What exactly did you do to my underwear? she demanded.

He looked her in the eye.

"Nothing. Nothing much. I... I just ran it through my fingers to see how soft it was."

An image of him doing so came to her mind. She could almost visualise the hungry look on his face as he stroked her stockings and kissed her bra and knickers. Again the sullenness yet directness of his reply stirred her, awakening her desire from its half-slumber.

"I can't believe what I'm damn well hearing, Mike. I thought I knew you really well, yet here you are acting like... like a pervert! And why exactly did you DO that?"

He wished she would either rant at him or let the matter drop. This questioning was truly embarrassing and humiliating. But he was determined to remain as strong as he could.

He looked down at his feet, then fleetingly back at her face, before returning to her slender stockinged legs, and to her black satin panties. She shuddered at his shamelessness, feeling both uncomfortable and aroused by his evident hunger for her.

"I... I'm not a pervert, Aunt Sue. I fancy you like mad. If you must know... I... I wanted to imagine what you would look like in your undies. And..."

"Yes?" she snapped, though she felt very hot and her heart was beating faster.

"Well... and what you would FEEL like. Through it, I mean. If I was touching you through it, that is."

He did feel really perverted now, though. All the time the fear of his mother finding out swamped his thinking. She would feel hurt, betrayed, and totally shocked. Even if she went crazy at him her hurt and upset would be harder to cope with. Understandably. And he would be unable to offer any plausible excuse. He would have to take full responsibility. His head was spinning.

But he still felt aroused as he looked at his "aunt" glaring at him angrily, yet dressed provocatively, and reclining on his bed.

"And that was it?" Still her tone was sharp.

"Yes, Aunt Sue."

"You didn't... put it on or... wrap it round yourself and play with yourself like that?"

"No. No, I didn't."

"Well, whether you're a pervert is debatable. Still it's something to be grateful for, I suppose, that you only TOUCHED my underwear." Her tone was icy. He felt as if he was on trial and awaiting the verdict.

Again he stared at her breasts as they rose and fell under her camisole. Impetuously he risked making his fixation obvious by tilting his head to one side. He looked back into her face, and to his delight she looked away. He registered her growing doubts.

She was struggling to maintain any degree of composure now. He sensed it, though he was unsure whether she was beginning to feel turned on or about to erupt in a torrent of fury.

"And now that you've seen me in it – are you satisfied?"

Her pulse was racing and she felt a little squish of delight at the whole scenario that she found herself in. She hoped that her voice did not betray her feelings too much.

"Yes. Well... almost," he replied, almost insolently.

"Meaning?" she demanded, looking him full in the eye and raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, I think you can guess, Aunt Sue." He held her gaze.

Again she was angry yet excited at the volley of remarks between them, the way that he seemed to counter each of hers and pushed her back onto the defensive.

"Oh, believe me, I'm struggling to guess WHAT goes on in that filthy mind of yours any more, Mike. Explain. And when you say you fancy me, I presume you don't mean in a romantic, candlelit dinner sense." She almost spat the last phrase out and her tone was blisteringly sarcastic.

"Well, no. Part of me is ashamed to say so, but part of me wondered... what you would look like OUT of your underwear. Sorry. But you asked me to explain. There's your explanation." He stared into her eyes once more.

"I see. So you thought it would be a good start to kiss my... my TIT?" She raised her voice and it sounded shrill in anger. This cat-and-mouse exchange was arousing her greatly now. She thrilled in his evident discomfort, yet at the same time admired the way he stood up to her. Deep down, too, she thrilled in the tug of war that was taking place in her mind. The outcome could go either way now, she realised as her arousal reached the same intensity as her anger and shame.

"Yes. I did think it would be a good start... and that... that it would be just that – a start. Anyway, I've said I'm sorry."

"So you keep saying. I don't know whether you are, though," she replied. She knew that her voice was strained with emotion.

"Are... are you going to tell Mum?"

It was a pertinent question, but he asked it in a matter-of-fact, need-to-know sort of way, not in a grovelling, pleading manner. She found her excitement rising. At the same time she found herself being pushed on the defensive again. She felt angry at the loss of control and initiative.

"I don't know. I dressed like this for a reason. I wanted to see if you're sorry. To see if... if you're sorry enough to keep your eyes off me. But you can't, can you? Over and over again you keep staring at me." She hoped that her anger sounded genuine.

Of course I can't keep my eyes off you, Aunt Sue. You're incredibly sexy. And, no, I don't fancy you in a romantic sense. And, yes, I DO fancy you like mad sexually. You know that, of course. And... and, be honest, you've encouraged it. You... you've been teasing me deliberately. Ever since you arrived, in fact! Okay, you may not have been wanting me to do what I did earlier. But you sure as hell did it for some kind of reaction!"

He tried to sound as calm as he could. He was still afraid of how it would all end, but he was determined to put her on the spot and take back some control.

The frankness and accuracy of his words made her skin rise in goosebumps. She felt a twinge of arousal as she was confronted by her own feelings and actions towards him

"I dare say I have flirted with you a bit. But it doesn't bloody well mean you're entitled to make sexual advances on me!" she retorted. She glared at him.

"Anyway, thank you for being so honest with me. Anyway, I'm off to bed now. And I hope you're not going to ask if you can kiss me goodnight again!" she said, sharply.

"No, Auntie, of course not."

He watched her as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and stood up. Her modest breasts gave a little forward surge under her camisole, and he caught a fleeting glimpse inside her neckline of the tops of her orbs. Despite his fear his erection gave a little salute inside his trousers.

She spotted it. She fought back her remaining doubts and shame and felt suddenly hot as she prepared to play out the sweet trick of revenge on him that had come to her mind during her earlier mental debate with herself.

It was to be a sweet revenge, indeed, a gentle, teasing revenge, a peace-making – and consummating revenge! A revenge that would relieve the pent-up desires – of each of them!

"Good. Well, that's that, then. As for telling your mum – it all depends on how you behave from now on. And I WILL let you kiss me goodnight. But don't you dare get any bloody ideas about kissing my boobs again. I WILL let you kiss me goodnight once – on the lips. Do you think you can behave yourself and confine yourself to that? To kissing me once on the lips? You'd bloody well better!"

He was totally baffled by her ambivalent, contradictory behaviour. He contented himself with a nod.

"Lie down then and close your eyes then! And purse your lips!" she ordered.

He sank onto his back with his head at the very edge of the bed and closed his eyes. He was tempted to keep them open a fraction, just to see her breasts surge forward under her camisole. But he dared not. He was still afraid that she would tell his mother, and dreaded the fallout if she did .

Sue smirked to herself as she stared at his young, emotion-wracked face, and at the bulge in his trousers as it gave a little surge again. Although she felt ashamed and guilty about what she was about to do, she struggled to keep from laughing out loud.

As quietly as she could she dragged her panties to one side and raised one leg. She wished she was an inch or so taller, as she had to stand on tiptoe. Then, gazing down at her trimmed but hairy mound she stepped astride his face, bringing her pussy to his pursed lips in a swift, smooth movement.

He tensed in his shock as the musky, moist, hair-festooned flesh met his mouth. Before he had time to react further she withdrew her minge from him, swinging her leg back from him to plant it on the floor. She laughed as he stared at her, then he, too, laughed at her lewd practical joke and pun.

"Well, now you damn well know what it's like to kiss Aunt Sue's lips! Did they taste sweet? Were they moist? Hmmm?"

He nodded, still shocked, and still chuckling quietly both at her crudity and with relief as he realised that she was not in fact mad at him. It was especially arousing given that she was his mother's best friend, and that she had always seemed demure, and relatively prim and proper. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and reached out for her breasts, but she pushed him gently down onto his back once more.

"Ah-ah. Not till Auntie says! So, Mike, you bad boy. You wanted to see me in my underwear. So, tell me what you think..."

He was confused and a little annoyed. He was not entirely sure whether she was now backing off or simply stringing him along for a little longer before allowing him to take her.

"I think... I think you are a very sexy lady, Aunt Sue..."

Her modest breasts looked extremely inviting under her white camisole, and he reached out for them again, but she backed away a step and gave his hand a playful tap. She was determined to delay things and maximise the anticipation for both of them. She wanted him, she wanted him badly, many times over and over again, but she wanted to build things up a little more each time, to se his hunger and his satisfaction realised little by little and progressively. She did her best to summon a commanding, in-control tone of voice.