My Mother's Older Sister

"What's wrong, my love? You look worried. Got nothing to go worrying your head about there. You're a good kisser. A born natural." For a moment, she studied me in silence. And then, slowly, her gaze travelled down my body, came to rest at my crotch. "Oh deary me, has your silly old auntie gone and started something?" She grinned. "I suppose it did take your mind off the headache..." Reaching out with delicate fingertips, she patted the bulge, causing me to twitch involuntarily as though I'd been electrocuted. "Oooh my word! Not very fair to leave things in that state, is it now?" With finger and thumb, she tugged the zip down. And then she took hold of my hand and placed it beside my open fly. "Would you like me to leave?"

I hesitated, shook my head. She shifted back, leaning against the wall and lit a cigarette, bringing her large, bluish, badly-shaved legs up on to the bed. Resting her chin on her knee, she gazed down at me. "You know, my love, you're not the only one who sometimes gets curious about people's private business."

I felt a stab of alarm. Was she referring to my spying at the kitchen window? What else could she mean? Was this my punishment, performing for her, showing her the kind of thing randy young boys got up to when alone?

"I'm ... sorry," I managed to mumble.

"Do what, lovey?" She gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "No need to apologise, my darling. We all of us get curious. Me, I've always been really curious about seeing ... well, you know. Men. Boys."

Perhaps it was all the wine I'd drunk, or maybe the knock on the head had something to do with it, but from somewhere, I don't know where, I found the courage to slide my hand inside my open fly, take hold of my penis and squeeze. With my other hand, I fumbled to unfasten my trousers. Aunt Doreen reached over and helped me. I pushed the trousers down, freeing myself, and wriggled my hand into my underpants and gripped myself again. I was almost erect, but something - probably my nervousness - prevented me from getting there completely.

I could feel Aunt Doreen's eyes on me, could still smell her perfume, and the alcohol and smoke on her breath. I wondered what my mother and father would think if they came in and saw us like this. Me with my hand in my pants, my penis three-quarters hard. Aunt Doreen sitting there next to me on my bed, smoking and watching. It had to be a dream. Scenes like this just didn't occur in reality.

I moved my hand up and down, squeezing, working up into my customary slow rhythm. Could I trust it to quicken of its own accord, as it normally would, as I became more excited? I felt horribly selfconscious. What if it wouldn't get any harder? What if this was the best I could manage?

I'd oozed a little lubricant, but it wasn't enough. Soon I started to feel dryness, soreness, discomfort, and a dreadful sense of failure. I was letting Aunt Doreen down.

There was a dark spot, slowly spreading, on the front of my underpants, soaking up some of my much-needed natural lubricant. Aunt Doreen lifted her nearest leg, and I noticed, for the first time, a small, quite untouched clump of wild hairs just behind the knee, like a sports field tended by a sloppy groundsman. She stretched out her long foot and positioned it directly above the telltale spot. As my penis thrust upward again it butted against her big toe, and she responded by applying delicious pressure. Rock-hard at last, I let out an inadvertent gasp, and felt strangely proud. I had always been a scrupulously silent masturbator, too fearful of discovery - and beyond that, too inhibited - to vent my pleasure vocally.

"Feel nice, does it, my love?" Aunt Doreen murmured, her voice oddly tense and quavery. "Mmm?"

I nodded.

Was she quite sane? I wondered. Wasn't she letting things get a bit out of hand? As for me, I was only a kid. Could I really be blamed?

I was moving my hips now, thrusting more violently. Aunt Doreen shifted her foot, jabbed playfully down at me with her heel, and then, showing the same remarkable deftness with which she had unclipped her bra in the kitchen, she withdrew her foot, stretched it out, burrowed her big toe under the waistband of my underpants and yanked them back, revealing my straining, twitching "manhood" - as old-fashioned writers used to like to call it - in all its rude, rhubarby glory.

I heard Aunt Doreen react to the sight with a funny kind of sound, something not unlike a laugh, but also akin to a moan. "My word, now that is a good size," she murmured breathlessly. "Don't expect you'll be getting any complaints there."

I thought of her nipple, peeping out at me as she sat at the kitchen table, and I came, explosively, shooting onto my stomach, my school shirt and Aunt Doreen's leg. A glob of sperm slowly followed the curve of her calf, fell and lay there glistening on the candlewick bedspread. I lay there in excruciating silence, my trousers halfway down my legs, my underpants having slipped part of the way back up to cover one testicle. About the only part of me not rigid with embarrassment was my penis, dying in my hand, soft and slumped and sausagey, retreating once again into its foreskin.

"Look at him!" Aunt Doreen remarked fondly. "Like a weary old walrus." She reached out and ran a finger along its length, now considerably reduced. "Ain't nature amazing when you think about it?"

No one else had ever seen me erect. One or two kids at school would proudly brandish formidable hard-ons in the changing room after football, but I was very much the shy type, in and out of the showers with all possible haste. It was as though, simply with her eyes, my aunt had already taken a portion of my virginity, and I felt satisfied and relieved that one important rite of passage was at last out of the way.

But now Aunt Doreen was observing me in a state of flaccidity, hardly a feast for anyone's eyes. I felt an urgent need to get hard again, to make the most of her enthusiastic scrutiny. And I did not feel at all sated. But the physical lagged well behind the mental. In a spirit of scientific curiosity one rainy Sunday, aided and abetted by some photos of, if memory serves, Mary Millington in The News Of The World, I had ascertained the minimum interval my body required between ejeculation and subsequent erection. It was around fifteen to twenty minutes, depending upon the quality of available sensory stimuli. However, I felt quite confident that on this occasion I could beat all previous records by some considerable margin.

"We could do with a tissue or something," Aunt Doreen said matter-of-factly. "You just stay there."

She got up from the bed, went out, and returned a couple of moments later with some toilet roll and a dampened bathroom sponge. In the clumsy, hesitant manner of one unused to domestic tasks, she set about removing all evidence of sexual activity, while I continued to lie there with my trousers halfway down and my underpants halfway up. With her last wad of toilet roll, she dabbed teasingly at my penis, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise when it began to swell, shifting and twitching at her touch.

"Raring to go again already, is he?" Aunt Doreen chuckled. "Bloke of my age, he'd be out of action for the rest of the week." She took away the toilet roll and sponge, then came back and sat on the edge of my desk, right in front of me, her small eyes shining with dark merriment. She lit another cigarette, dragged deeply at it then looked down at my penis, by now halfway erect again. She parted her thighs a little, then more. Then still more. The gusset of her faded pink knickers was taut across her crotch, dark pubic hairs sprouting richly to either side, intoxicatingly vulgar. "You want the lot, my love, don't you?" she said quietly. Her face hardened. "Well ... Judst as long as nobody ever gets to hear. You don't tell no friends, you don't tell nobody. 'Specially not your mum and dad. OK? Do you understand me, now?"

I nodded.

"Wouldn't want to go messing you up." Aunt Doreen tapped her temple. "Up here, I mean." She spoke in deadly earnest, and for a moment I feared that self-disgust was finally beginning to rear its head, and that she would come to her senses and dismiss the whole sordid notion.

But she didn't close her thighs. In fact she opened her legs still further, and I saw that a long dark narrow patch had formed along the centre of her gusset.

Following my eyes, Aunt Doreen smiled. "See? I'd be a hypocrite to say it was just you that wants to." Glancing down at herself, she hooked her forefinger under her gusset and tugged it to one side, revealing what was no demure and discreet little organ, but a raw, red and aggressive-looking thing, with alarmingly prominent lips that brought to mind the ears of a minaiature elephant, and butcher's shops, and some strange alien creature from Star Trek.

Aunt Doreen opened her legs still further, as though for a medical examination, causing her labia - as I later learned to call them - to part and reveal, rather alarmingly, a dark little orifice, a hole in her body like the mouth of a tiny cave. Plainly visible above it was what I've since realised was her clitoris. Stroking herself with her fingertip, she remarked, "Dry as a desert, these days, more often than not." She showed me her fingertip. It glistened. "Want to know something, my love? You're the first one who's got me like this in a good long while."

It seemed utterly beyond belief that my fifty-year-old aunt had become physically excited by the prospect of being intercourse with me. Shy, skinny, virginal young me.

Aunt Doreen got up from the desk and hiked up her skirt. It was tight enough to stay bunched up around her waist. I could smell her arousal, and, despite what passed for received schoolboy wisdom, it wasn't rank. I'd never understood why boys talked about women's bodies with such revulsion. Despite my lack of sexual savoir faire, I'd always felt sure that nine-tenths of what passed for informed comment was ignorant rubbish.

My penis was semi-erect again. Aunt Doreen looked down at it, and took a puff at her cigarette. "I know a lot of women like to ... you know, have it in their mouths, and all that, but..." She pulled a face. "Never enjoyed that very much, meself." Her eyes sparkled. "Do like it the other way, though. But most fellas'll never do that for you. Well, most fellas I've known, at any rate."

"I ... w...would," I stammered. It had taken an enormous effort, getting the words out.

"What's that, my love? Well if you're sure? Because it's not the sort of place to be if you don't want to be there." She climbed up onto the bed, towering over me, and stepped forward and stood directly above my head. "Now are you sure you're sure?"

I nodded.

"Well then would you like to help me off with me knickers?"

Aunt Doreen wriggled the knickers down around her thighs. I reached up and pulled them down the rest of the way, and she helpfully raised each foot in turn. Gripping the headboard with both hands, she slowly squatted down over me, offering as friendly advice: "Think of a cat lapping at a bowl of milk."

Resting my elbows on the bed and gripping her buttocks, so that Aunt Doreen was more or less sitting on my hands, I stuck out my tongue as far as it would go and, tentatively, probed at her labia. She flinched and gasped as I made contact. I probed again, and again she flinched. The third time, though, she responded by squishing herself hard against me, and from there, between us, we began to work up a something in the way of a clumsy rhythm, the bed creaking away and Aunt Doreen gasping in time to it. I had no real technique, but plenty of enthusiasm. I lapped, I probed, I licked, sucked, tasted, toyed, revelling in my sexual adventurousness. Who among my schoolfriends had done anything like this? I couldn't even remember this particular form of sexual congress being described within the pages of the dog-eared paperback copy of Confessions Of A Window Cleaner that had been passed around from dufflebag to dufflebag last term.

Very soon, though, my tongue began to hurt. Two or three of Aunt Doreens's pubic hairs had become tangled up in my teeth. I wondered how much longer I could keep going. Although disappointed that I'd failed to bring my aunt to a climax - because I knew that women got climaxes too, thanks to another book that had recently done the rounds in school, an informative tome by a writer with the vaguely comical name of Alex Comfort - I was really quite relieved when finally she lifted herself off me.

"Getting a bit sore, my love," Aunt Doreen explained. "Very nice, though." She twisted round, reached behind herself and I felt her fingers close tight around my penis. (As she did so I took the opportunity to spit out those stray pubic hairs.) She gave me a squeeze, then let go of it and looked down at me. "So it's the whole lot, my love, mmm? That what you're hoping for?""Aunt Doreen hauled herself up and stood over me, her nether regions raw and red and glistening. "Well let's get these out of the way ..."

She tugged at the leg of my trousers. Hastily, I removed them, along with my underpants, and Aunt Doreen unpeeled the socks from my feet.

"Can't stand it when fellas leave their socks on. Well shift yourself up a bit, then."

I did as asked, scrambling back until my penis was directly below her. In a slow, solemn, ceremonial manner appropriate to the sexual initiation of a nephew, Aunt Doreen lowered herself onto me, taking hold of my penis again and guiding it into position, pausing at the very threshhold. Her eyes were all fierce and slightly scary. But then suddenly they softened. "All right, my love?"

It was an unfortunate thing for her to say at that moment, as it happened to be the catchphrase of a certain well-known TV personality, and my thoughts were promptly gatecrashed by my his broadly grining face. I battled furiously to erase this utterly unwelcome vision.

"Well here goes..." Aunt Doreen began gently, easing herself down until I nudged against her. And then, fairly vigorously, she impaled herself upon me.

I came at once.

"Thought that might happen," said Aunt Doreen, not without humour.

My embarrassment was acute. I wondered if this still qualified as losing my virginity.

Aunt Doreen lifted herself off me, tore herself a length of toilet roll and wiped a thick glob of my sperm from her inner thigh. She smiled down at me. "Took the wind out of your sails, has it?"

Thinking myself oh so sophisticated for having grasped her meaning, I tried to think of some witty response, but could come up with nothing better than "Sorry."

"Got nothing to apologise for," Aunt Doreen said gently. "Nothing unusual in a young lad of your age. In fact, I could take it as a compliment." With her fingertip, she stroked my now despondent, more than half-flaccid penis, and the magic of her touch promptly threw the process into reverse. "Well bugger me!" She watched in rapt fascination as it set about levitating itself, straining, creeping upward in jerky fits and starts. "Coming back for more, is he?"

As if in answer, my penis faltered, twitched, then began to fall back.

"Listen, really now, if you've had enough?" Aunt Doreen regarded me quizzically.

I shook my head. I still couldn't come up with a witty remark.

"I know, you wanted the full thing." She smiled sympathetically. "And that couldn't really be called the full thing, could it? So ... would you like to undo me?" She patted the buttons at the front of her blouse.

I reached out and, with trembling fingers, attempted to do as invited. After what must have been about thirty seconds of fruitless fumbling, Aunt Doreen came to my assistance, unbuttoning her blouse down to her waist, scooping her right breast from its cup and offering me the large, erect nipple as though I were eighteen weeks old rather than eighteen years.

I sucked on her.

Aunt Doreen clambered up and crouched over me on all fours, rucking her skirt up out of the way, and took my penis in her hand, squeezing and pumping. What with this and the sucking, I was erect again almost immediately, and Aunt Doreen lost no time in getting me back inside her. Our rhythm was erratic - I found it tremendously difficult to suck, thrust and stay in sync with her, all at the same time - and when all of a sudden Aunt Doreen began to shudder violently and opened her mouth wide in a frighteningly emphatic gasp, I finally had my suspicions confirmed. Yes, they were dentures.

Panting, Aunt Doreen smiled down at me. " Don't feel you got to finish, my love. Nobody could call you a virgin now."

But I wanted to finish. I desperately wanted to. To stop now would be to leave the job half done, the test only half-passed.

I continued thrusting away, and after a moment Aunt Doreen joined me again, getting back into the swing of it. But for all my exertions I seemed to be getting nowhere. In fact I was beginning to feel unpleasantly numb down there.

"Look how about the other way round?" Aunt Doreen finally suggested, and, at her prompting, we switched to what I knew was commonly called the Missionary Position. I'd hoped to accomplish the reinsertion without assistance, but success eluded me, and when Aunt Doreen finally came to the rescue, her fingers lacked a certain finesse, and conveyed a sense of annoyance and/or impatience.

Trying not to think of her dentures, and to ignore the smell of her sweat, which was by now very pungent, I thrust away as vigrously as I could, nuzzling into her throat, wondering whether people in general would now easily be able to identify me as sexually experienced, as in an altogether different league to my less fortunate classmates.

"I'm starting to get a bit sore, my love." Aunt Doreen was barely reciprocating now. "Go on too long, and it after a while it's not any fun. For the woman, at any rate." Placing my hands on her shoulders, she gently eased me up off her. I was bitterly disappointed, and Aunt Doreen must have read this from my face, for she kissed the tip of my nose, smiled sympathetically and said: "Well there's one little thing I could try, if you want? Seems to go down a treat with most blokes."

I nodded eagerly. I was prepared for her to try anything, anything instead of leaving it at this.

Aunt Doreen brought her hand up to her mouth, extended her forefinger and, slowly and lasciviously, proceeded to suck on it. Was this simple, suggestive act, I wondered, meant to furnish all the necessary stimulation? Was it intended as a substitute for that other act she had confessed to disliking? Whatever the case, it was falling on stony ground. I still felt like I could go on thrusting forever to no avail.

She withdrew the finger from her mouth. Strings of spit dangled from it, and I came close to retching. With her other hand, Aunt Doreen pushed my head down toward her right breast, still exposed, the hard, jutting nipple big an thick as a pink wax crayon. I took it in my mouth and sucked hard.

"Open your legs, my love," Aunt Doreen instructed.

What she had in mind, I couldn't for the life of me imagine. But I did as asked. To my horror, a small fart, mercifully silent and, I prayed - odourless - seized the opportunity to escape.

Aunt Doreen kissed my forehead. "Now lovey just relax."

I tried my best to, but it was diffiult, for I could feel her finger toying with my anus. Although I'd long since discovered the pleasure that could be had from sticking my finger up my bum, it was a totally new - not to mention rather disturbing - experience, having someone else down there, probing and poking and smearing their spit around.

"Ready?" Aunt Doreen asked.

Ready for what? I wondered, vaguely alarmed, yet at the same time almost unbearably excited.

I nodded.

Gently but firmly, Aunt Doreen penetrated me.