Living with Great Aunt Helen

We walked for a couple of hours along the canal towpath. There were few people about and the wind whipped our coat tails and blew dead leaves along the path. We didn't say much, and nothing about the lunchtime conversation. After we got back to the house I went upstairs to try and study; Aunt Helen stayed downstairs. I could occasionally hear her moving about and the faint noise of the television. I struggled to concentrate but eventually managed a solid three hours of reading and note-taking, after which I was exhausted so I showered and climbed into bed, although it was only about nine-thirty.

The tap on the door came about fifteen minutes later, just as I was beginning to feel drowsy. 'Come in,' I called, suddenly alert.

The bedroom door opened and Aunt Helen appeared, still dressed in her day clothes, which surprised me. And what was more puzzling is that she'd been wearing trousers when we went for our walk and now here she was in a knee-length brown skirt. 'Were you asleep?' she asked.

'Just dozing off,' I admitted.

'Oh. I'm sorry, I thought you'd still be awake.' She hesitated and then moved to the side of my bed. 'I know you like my underwear so...' She hesitated and reached down with both hands to the hem of her skirt, lifting it past the tops of her stockings and exposing her upper thighs. It was dark in the room; the only light was coming from the landing, through the half-open bedroom door. I couldn't see much detail but I could see her reaching under the raised skirt and grasping the waistband of her panties. With a rustle of nylon against nylon the pulled them down over her stockings and stepped out of them, laying them on my bedside table on top of my book.

I watched transfixed as she pulled her skirt back down and retreated to the bedroom door, where she turned to me, her face in shadow.

'Since we talked at lunchtime I've been thinking,' she said, quietly. 'I don't want you to leave, you know that, but I'm not sure if you realise how much I want you to stay. So I am prepared to do certain things if it will help you to concentrate on your work while you are living here.' Then she was gone, the door closing gently behind her, leaving me in the dark, literally and metaphorically.

What did she mean by "do certain things"? I was instantly aroused, all thought of sleep banished. I reached for the panties and brought them to my nose, fancying that I could still feel the heat from her pussy as well as the aroma of her secretions. Less than a minute later I was jetting great ribbons of spunk onto my belly, my brain whirling with erotic and incestuous fantasies.

The following day I got back from the university campus in the late afternoon. Great Aunt Helen's car was on the gravelled drive so I knew she was in as I approached the front door. I hadn't seen her since that momentous visit to my bedroom the night before and I was nervous and excited. She was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

'Hello, Peter,' she said, as I came in. 'How was your day?'

'Strange,' I admitted. 'After last night it was even more difficult to concentrate.'

'Yes, I see that.' She gave me a small smile. 'I suppose we need to talk, don't we?' Shall we have dinner first?' I went upstairs and showered and faffed around with my books until Aunt Helen called up the stairs that dinner was ready.

It was a quiet meal. Eaten pretty much in silence in fact. When we had finished I rinsed the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher.

'Would you like a glass of wine?' asked Aunt Helen. She got a bottle of Malbec from the rack by the door and a couple of glasses from a glass-fronted cupboard. We sat at the table and sipped the full-bodied, almost purple wine. Neither of us said anything until we'd finished the first glass and she'd poured the second. The tension was like static electricity.

'About last night,' I began.

'You want to know what it is that I'm prepared to do to keep you here,' interrupted my aunt and I nodded. She took a long sip of her drink and looked at me for a few seconds. 'I want you to know what I look like naked,' she said, calmly. 'So that your fantasies have some basis in reality.' She paused. 'And you can touch me, too, so that you know what that feels like. I won't pretend that this is anything but very difficult for me but I want you to stay very much and I think that once you've seen me you will understand that I'm just an old lady and you'll lose interest in me as a sexual object.'

'When?' I croaked.

'This evening, if you want,' she replied, quietly.

'Yes, I stuttered, 'tonight.'

'Very well. Come to my bedroom in half an hour.' With that, Aunt Helen picked up her wineglass and disappeared upstairs. I remained at the table, sipping my wine, looking at my watch, my mind a whirl.

The minutes dragged by at what seemed about half their normal rate. I wondered what I should be wearing when I went to her bedroom and decided that I would just keep what I had on -- jeans and a T shirt. After what seemed like a couple of hours, it was time. I ascended the stairs slowly and tapped at Aunt Helen's bedroom door.

'Come in, Peter.'

I opened the door and slipped in. I'd never been in her bedroom before. It was large and high-ceilinged with windows on two sides. It was warm in the room and the bed looked big and comfortable and had a brass bedstead like the one in my room. There were built in cupboards and a dressing table. The curtains were drawn and it was gloomy in the room, the only light coming from a shaded lamp on the dressing table, where Great Aunt Helen sat on a padded stool, wearing a gold-coloured silk dressing gown and brushing her hair; it was the most feminine thing I'd ever seen her in. She half turned to face me as I came in and I could see, even in that light, that she'd put make up on, something she very rarely did. I stood hesitating on the threshold.

Aunt Helen waved a hand at me. 'Go and lie on the bed.' I kicked off my slippers and scrambled onto the bed, lying back against the pillows. She stood up, facing me, then slowly untied the belt of the dressing gown and let it slip off her shoulders onto the floor leaving her naked in front of me. She kept her hands crossed modestly over her crotch, her arms partially obscuring her breasts. But as I stared at her, transfixed, she lifted her arms away from her body.

'This is me,' she said, simply. And I looked at her with something approaching disbelief. She was gorgeous. Pale-skinned, long-limbed and slim with well-defined hips and long legs; there was very little evidence of the ravages of time, at least not in this light. Her breasts sagged but they were full and round with big nipples and she had a thick, black bush between her legs.

I closed my mouth, which had been hanging open. 'You're beautiful,' I said, with feeling, and I held my arms out to her. She hesitated for a second and then climbed onto the bed next to me, lying down by my side and looking up at me.

'Thank you,' she said.

'Am I allowed to kiss you?' I asked.

'Yes.' Her voice was a whisper.

I lowered my face and touched my mouth to hers. Her lips were warm and slightly sticky with lipstick. I kissed her gently, two or three times, before opening my mouth and pushing my tongue against her lips. Her mouth remained closed so I continued to kiss her lips, moving round to her cheeks and neck and ear lobes and reaching out with my hand, finding her arm and caressing it, stroking it, finding the swell of her breast and cupping the warm globe. She stiffened but I didn't take my hand away and after a few seconds she relaxed and I started stroking her breast, feeling the nipple against my palm, taking it gently between finger and thumb and feeling her shiver, her breath hot on my cheek. Then I kissed her again and this time I felt her lips open against mine and receive my tongue as I pushed it into her mouth. We kissed slowly and tenderly for long minutes, the passion there but on a low light. I was wary of stepping up the pace in case I frightened her off and she seemed happy to kiss me like this. In fact her arms came around me and I found our bodies pressed together and wondered if she could feel my erection, which was rock-hard and uncomfortable in my trousers.

I stroked her as we kissed and felt, rather than heard, her tiny moans of pleasure or desire. Eventually I slid my hand down her abdomen and sought her pubic bush. I thought that she would stop me and she did freeze for a second as I ran my hand over the silky hair but as I stroked her mound she relaxed and groaned as I found her slit with my middle finger. Any residual doubts about how aroused she was were dispelled as my finger slipped easily into her cunt, slick with juices. She gave a little cry and kissed me harder and I responded and we mashed our mouths together as my searching finger found her clitoris and started a gentle stroking, up and down, up and down.

Aunt Helen opened her legs wide and held me tight, her fingernails digging into my back, her mouth fastened on mine like a limpet. I kept on rubbing my fingertip over her clitty, using her cunt juices to lubricate, juices smeared all around her vulva and inner thighs. I could smell her scent, feel her rising climax.

Towards the end she broke the kiss and gave a long, deep groan, her eyes closed and her hips bucking backwards and forward as my finger brought her to orgasm. Then it was over and she lay against me, warm and limp, her juices soaking into the leg of my jeans.

I stroked her face and she opened her eyes. She looked dazed. 'Well, that was unexpected,' she said, at last. And then, to my horror, she burst into tears and clung to me as great sobs welled up and wracked her. I held her tight and stroked her hair and kissed her forehead and after a while she calmed down and we lay together quietly.

At length, she disengaged herself and, getting off the bed, picked up her dressing gown and put it on. She looked tearstained and thoroughly miserable and my heart went out to her. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, holding out my hand to her and she took it and sat next to me on the bed, my erection subsiding.

'I'm so sorry, Peter.' Her voice was a whisper. 'I never meant for that to happen. I just wanted you to see me and feel my old saggy skin. I thought that would turn you off me. Then you kissed me and oh my God it's been such a long time since anyone kissed me like that. And I shouldn't have let you go on but it felt so good and then you touched my breast and between my legs and I wanted you to stop but I was melting inside and I couldn't do anything and then you made me come and... Oh Peter, it felt so wonderful.'

'Has it been a long time?'

'Since I had a climax? No.' She looked at her hands. 'I do it to myself, occasionally, although it doesn't feel anything like that.'

I stood up. 'I should go.'

She gave me a small smile. 'There're my knickers on the floor, if you want them.'

I shook my head and leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. 'I'll see you in the morning, Helen.'

She stood up and hugged me, her arms tight around my chest, her head on my shoulder. 'We need to talk tomorrow,' she said quietly.

I could hardly sleep that night. The evening's events played in my mind like a continuous loop on a tape player. I masturbated until my arm ached, thinking about Helen, smelling her juices on my middle finger, remembering the kissing and how, for a few glorious seconds, she had explored my mouth with her tongue. I fell asleep an hour before dawn and woke up two hours later feeling tired and stale.

I didn't go into university the next morning; I wasn't due in until after lunch. This meant Aunt Helen and I had breakfast together. She was subdued, or rather more subdued than usual. I tried to behave as if everything was normal but I was dreading the inevitable conversation that would follow breakfast.

She made a pot of tea and we sat at the kitchen table, cupping the steaming mugs in our hands. I was desperate to cheer my aunt up so I reached out and took her hand in mine, stroking her fingers. 'Even if I move out, Helen, I'll come and see you. Every week. More if you want.'

She smiled, slightly distractedly. 'I didn't sleep much last night, thinking about what happened between us. Please promise me Peter that you will never, ever mention it to anybody. Will you promise me that?'

'Of course.'

'What would your mother think if she knew? Or my sister?'

'Actually I don't think mum would be too bothered. She's a free spirit. I think her view would be that if we're not hurting anyone then it's nobody's business but ours.'

Aunt Helen was silent while she digested this. Then: 'do you think so?'

'Yes,' I said. 'I do. Dad might be a bit pissed off though.' We looked at each other and then we were both laughing and it felt as though the sun was coming out. Great Aunt Helen liked my dad about as much as he liked her.

'Oh, Peter, what are we going to do?'

'Go to bed with each other this afternoon?' I suggested, facetiously.

'We can't. That would be... incest. It's bad enough what we've done already.'

'It'd be fantastic though, wouldn't it?'

She got up from the table. 'I need to get going. I've got a supermarket shop to do so I'll see you this evening.'

I went around the table and took her in my arms and she didn't resist as I kissed her, in fact she opened her mouth and accepted my tongue and put her arms around my neck and we kissed hard for a minute before breaking off and staring at each other.

'Last night really was special,' I said, staring into her blue eyes. 'And I really want to do it again, if you feel comfortable with it.' It was a stupid thing to say; obviously she wasn't comfortable with it. But she surprised me.

'I'm not saying no, but I need to think about it, Peter.'

Then I was going upstairs and she was finding her coat in the hall and the front door was closing and she was gone and I was alone in the house with my head full of erotic visions of my great aunt, naked and writhing under my lips and fingers.

I stayed late at the university library and didn't get back to the house until after eight. I'd called my great aunt to tell her and my dinner was in the oven when I got back. It had been in there for about two hours and was a congealed mess that I poked at unenthusiastically for twenty minutes before giving it up and scraping the lot into the bin. Then I went through into the sitting room where Aunt Helen was watching a documentary on television and knitting. I sat down next to her and watched for about fifteen minutes before I got bored and started to run my fingers over her trouser leg.

'Peter! I'm concentrating on the programme.'

After it had finished she turned the television off, put down her knitting and looked at me. 'I've had a bit of a roller-coaster day today, Peter, thinking about last night and what we did... I would be foolish to say that I didn't enjoy it, I did, very much.' I sat frozen, waiting for her to say that it must never happen again. But again, she surprised me. 'I have decided, rightly or wrongly -- probably wrongly -- that I can bear the thought of you leaving less easily than I can bear the guilt and shame that I feel about what we did last night.' I opened my mouth to say something but she held up her hand. 'Let me finish, Peter.' She pulled her cardigan around her chest and folded her hands in her lap. 'I know you haven't used your departure as a threat to try to get me to do what you want, but regardless of that, I have a proposal to make.' She paused and I sat, silent and motionless, all my senses alert, wondering what was coming. 'As long as you stay here living with me,' she began, 'I will undress for you and lie on the bed with you as often as you want me to.' My insides were churning with excitement and my cock was expanding. 'And I will... help you to achieve an orgasm too. But you must not penetrate me. That is a line which we must not cross.' She paused again. 'Can you live with that, Peter? Will you stay with me under those terms?'

This, I felt, was not the time to start bartering. Helen was offering me everything but the crown jewels and as much of it as I wanted. It was unbelievable. Stupendous. I could hardly believe that I'd just heard her say these words. Regrettably, deep inside me, there was a little voice saying: 'go with what you've been offered. Once she's used to that there's another conversation to be had about full intercourse.' I repressed those thoughts and laid my hand on my aunt's arm.

'That sounds better than I could ever have hoped for, Helen. Are you sure that you're one hundred percent ok with it?'

'No,' she admitted, 'but let's see how we go.'

I put my arm around her shoulders and drew her, unresisting, to me and we kissed deeply and passionately, her tongue doing as much work as mine. I slid my hand under her cardigan and cupped a breast through her cotton blouse, feeling its weight. She broke the kiss and lay her head on my shoulder as I continued to fondle her.

'Would I be right in thinking you'd like to start our new regime this evening?'

I agonised over what to wear for this second tryst, vacillating between complete nudity and underwear and T shirt. In the end I settled for shorts and a dressing gown which I slipped off as soon as I was in her bedroom. So an hour later I was lying on Helen's bed, dressed in just a pair of boxers, the front tented by my straining erection. My great aunt was sitting at the dressing table combing her thick, black hair. She was wearing the gold-coloured silk dressing gown again, and again she was wearing make-up. This time she'd gone the whole hog and applied eye shadow and mascara as well as a deep red lipstick. She stood and turned to the bed and I though she looked enchanting and said so.

'Thank you,' she said, slipping the gown off her shoulders and I now saw that she was wearing black stockings and a garter belt. I stared at her; my mouth open. 'I bought these in town today, once I'd made up my mind. I hope you like them.' She knelt on the bed then lay down beside me and I took her gratefully in my arms and she raised her face to mine and we kissed as two lovers would kiss: deeply, tenderly, exploring mouths and teeth and gums, nuzzling cheeks and ears and lips, tasting each other's saliva. It went on for a long time. I was intensely excited, my cock hard against Helen's abdomen. I cupped a breast again, naked under my touch this time, the big, thick nipple hard under my fingers. Breaking the kiss I lowered my head to her bosom and took the nipple into my mouth. I didn't know if this was allowed but I seriously wanted to find out.

Helen sighed as I took the big nub into my mouth and licked it and suckled it, gently biting down with my teeth. The sigh turned into a low moan as she stroked my hair with one hand, the other on my back, her nails gently raking across my shoulders. Then I was kissing her again and my hand was moving downwards, across her stomach, seeking that private place between her legs, stroking her silken bush, my fingers tracing her labia and pushing into the wetness, hearing her gasp into my ear. 'Oh, yes, Peter.' I slid one finger into her vagina, then two, then three, then I was finger-fucking her with long, slow strokes and she was writhing in my arms, her nails digging into the flesh of my back. I pushed my tongue deep into her mouth as my middle finger sought and found her clitoris and she arched her back as I started circling it with my fingertip, rubbing, stroking, faster and harder, the pleasure building up in her until, with a stifled scream, an orgasm washed over her and she went limp in my arms again.

But this time there were no tears. She lay in my arms and kissed my cheek and neck and whispered, 'thank you, thank you,' and I held her and felt her warmth and the softness of her skin. Then she sat up and turned to me. 'What would you like me to do for you?' I wasn't sure what the rules were for this bit, but it was my cue to lift my bum off the bed and pull my boxers off, exposing my seven inches of rigid meat to Helen's fascinated gaze. She looked at me and reached out a hand, tentatively. 'Shall I masturbate you?' she asked, quietly.