The Dressing Room

Aunt Kate's house is in London, close to college, so it made sense to stay there while I looked for more permanent accommodation. She's my father's brother's ex-wife, but both my father and his brother are complete shits who chose young flesh over family. Kate and my mother had that shared experience so remained close. When mum asked her, she was only too happy. 'Michael can stay as long as he likes. It'll be nice to have the company.'

Studying for my masters and a bit of a nerd, I was relieved that cousin Sophie was now living with her boyfriend, because she bullied me mercilessly when we were kids. I imagined I would stay in Sophie's bedroom, but Aunt Kate had little faith in this latest relationship lasting and suspected her daughter could come back at any time, furious her little cousin had taken her place. Instead, apologising, she put me up in her dressing room.

It was really the box bedroom, but Kate had always dreamed of having a dressing room so had colonised it with her extensive wardrobe. A successful businesswoman, she had only discovered her talents once her useless husband had abandoned her with a teenage child. To reinforce her sense of self she bought lots of expensive clothes and hung them on rails in the small room, alongside an ornate full-length mirror. The couch settee which, when pulled out, took up most of the space became my bed, but I didn't mind. I adored my aunt. The families had spent holidays together when I was a kid and she filled out a swimsuit much better than my mother. Very touchy-feely, she'd smother you with hugs and kisses and I got my first hard-on as an 11-year-old, watching a movie, snuggled up against her generous breasts. I credit her with my love of old films and big boobs.

Now in her mid 40s, she was still a great-looking woman, a pretty, round face framed by a wavy bob haircut, slender limbs and a full body. As she showed me the house, I tried to put all thoughts of snuggling in front of movies out of my head - she was my aunt for god's sake - but I could barely tear my eyes from her round arse wiggling under a silk pencil skirt. And, of course, her magnificent chest. Two heavy mounds bursting at the seams of her blouse. Sat opposite her at the kitchen table, it took all my will not to gawp at the deep, inviting cleavage she was unwittingly showing off.

That first night I had a terrible time keeping perverted thoughts out of my head. She was only the other side of the wall. I imagined her lying in bed, naked. Did she sleep naked? In my mind she did. In my fevered imaginings she also left the bathroom door ajar when she showered. She even did housework in just an apron. Christ! I might have to look for somewhere of my own sooner than I had planned.

I was still awake when she snuck into my room the next morning. A gentle finger tap on my door was followed by Aunt Kate entering quietly, dressed in a frowsy towelling bathrobe. Pretending to be asleep, in the dim light I watched her through half-closed eyes as she edged along the rail of blouses running adjacent to my bed. Choosing one, she peeled off her robe.

I was disappointed to see that underneath she was dressed in her usual tight business skirt, but on top she wore only a bra. Although her back was towards me I imagined her large juicy melons straining under the lacy fabric. My cock hardened. I longed to glimpse her fabulous tits. The long mirror was positioned just off but if I moved down a little I would be able to...

'I'm so sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to wake you. I just needed a blouse for work.' She hastily buttoned up before turning towards me. 'Should have sorted it out last night. I'm really sorry.'

'Don't worry,' I stammered. 'No problem, Aunty Kate. You look great, by the way. Really great.'

'You're a sweetheart,' she said, smiling. Then leaning over me she kissed my head and I got a sumptuous view down her blouse of her heavy, swaying jugs in her overworked lingerie.

'You can go back to sleep now,' she chirped before leaving. Yeah. Fat chance of that. As I beat myself off to a frenzied orgasm, I felt absolutely lousy.

...

I purposely stayed out with college mates that evening, but Kate was waiting up for me. She wore no make-up, her hair was wet and lank from showering and she was in her ugly bathrobe. But she still looked ball-achingly gorgeous. My aunt wanted to catch me before bed to tell me she wouldn't have to disturb me the next morning. She had her clothes ready for an important meeting and I could sleep as long as I wanted. The smile on my face wouldn't have fooled many people. The kiss goodnight made it a bit more genuine.

In the morning, I could hear her getting ready next door. I imagined her pulling panties over her round arse, teasing on tights, cupping her fat, round boobs in a sheer bustier. My hand found my old boy hard and I started to beat myself off.

Luckily there was a pause between the knock at my door and Aunt Kate coming in.

'I'm really sorry, Michael. It's this blouse. It's not right. Sorry.' She started to look through the rail. 'It needs to be just right.'

'Not a problem, Aunty Kate. Good to get a wake up call.'

'Don't mind me. Go back to sleep.' I watched hawk-like as, her back towards me, she took off her suit jacket and replaced her loose white shirt with a blue round-necked blouse. I sat up a little to get a view in the mirror as she changed. Her chest was stupendous, nestled in a satin balconette bra that offered it up to a grateful world. My hand went to my groin. Turning, she asked, 'What do you think?'

My hand pulled back sharply. 'You're beautiful.'

'No, Michael. Don't be silly. What do you think of the top?

'Oh.' I was stunned. Think fast. Try to talk calmly. 'I think I prefer the other one.'

Did she suspect? I mean, I did prefer the other one. The blue one was way too conservative. But the prospect of another glimpse of her large jubblies testing the fabric of her undies was way too good to turn down.

'Of course you do. I know what young men are like. It's all about the cleavage, isn't it? Well, the meeting will be full of young men. No harm in giving them something distracting. Much better deal that way.'

As she chatted casually, she took off the blue blouse and replaced it with the white one, this time not bothering to turn away. Why should she? I was family. It was perfectly natural to change your top. Unless your nephew was a nork-obsessed pervert.

'Tada! What do you think?' She was appraising herself in the mirror, running her hands over her fulsome hips and bum, teasing a strand of hair back into place.

'You look fantastic.'

'Knock it off, creep. But not bad for an old broad, eh?'

'You're not old,' I insisted.

'You're a dear, dear nephew.'

As she bent to kiss me goodbye her heavy jugs caressed my cheek. When the door was closed I threw the duvet off and grabbed my engorged dick. I tugged at it wildly in a whirlwind of lust. Naturally I didn't hear her coming back in.

'Michael!'

'Aunty Kate! I'm sorry! I didn't mean...! I thought you'd gone!' One hand desperately searched for the discarded duvet while the other tried to cover the throbbing erection that was refusing to die down.

'Good god!' Her mouth hung open.

'I'm sorry! I couldn't help myself!'

Kate, seemingly unable to take her eyes from my raging member, reached down and picked the duvet off the floor. I grabbed it from her and covered my embarrassment. Taking a deep breath and smoothing down her skirt, Kate sat on the bed next to me.

"Michael, I realise you're a young man with the usual urges of young men, but you can't be getting... aroused like this. I'm your aunt.'

'By marriage,' trying to convince myself.

'Still. You know it's wrong.'

"But you're beautiful, Aunty Kate. And seeing your... I couldn't help myself.'

'It's flattering, Michael, but it's wrong.'

My face warmed the room with its heat. 'I know.'

Shaking her head she brushed my cheek with her fingers, picked up the jacket she had forgotten and left.

...

That evening I drank a lot. My mates eventually put me in a taxi, tired of my whining about god knew what. At least the next day was Saturday so Aunt Kate wouldn't have to come in and get any clothes - not that she would now. She'd probably ask me to leave soon anyway. I'd fucked it up, big time.

But then there was a knock on my door.

'Come in.'

She called from outside, 'Are you decent?'

Aunt Kate came in in her tatty dressing gown and sat on the bed.

'I've been thinking, Michael...' My heart sank. I knew what was coming. '...It's all my fault.'

Guess I didn't know what was coming.

'I shouldn't have come into your room. This is your room for as long as you stay here and I have to respect that. You're at that age where a female body is just a female body and it doesn't matter that it's your aunt's. I know what boys are like. I used to go out with them. It's really just harmless fantasising. But I certainly shouldn't encourage it. And so I'm going to make sure I don't...' She paused, eyebrows creased, lips pursed. 'For god's sake, Michael, they're only breasts!'

I had been trying hard, but the gapping in her robe was offering a sumptuous vista of plump, fleshy cleavage. All the while she had been talking I had been ogling. With a gasp of exasperation Aunt Kate pulled her gown open and flashed her baps in all their naked glory. Magnificent. Heavy yet bouncy, wider than her torso yet still pert, two dark aureolae surrounding large succulent nipples. They were a boob fetishist's wet dream. It seemed criminal when she wrapped the robe around them in perfunctory manner.

I was dumbstruck. I had just witnessed mammary perfection.

'Right,' she said. Her abruptness couldn't quite hide the embarrassment in her cheek. 'There. You've seen them. A pair of breasts. That's all. Can we get on with our lives now? I'm going to go and cook breakfast. Are you going to join me?'

The words somehow found a way out of my mouth. 'I may be a few minutes.'

"For god's sake, Michael. Alright. It's up to you whether you want to go blind. I'll see you downstairs when you're quite finished.' Throwing back her head in mock disbelief, Aunt Kate walked out, closing the door. And I wanked myself to a delicious orgasm.

...

The weekend passed in friendly conversations and not a mention of what had happened. She came into my room again on Monday morning as if it were a perfectly natural thing to do. 'Well, you've seen my breasts and I can't stop you from fiddling with yourself, so there's no reason for me to stop using my dressing room.' With that she dropped her robe and, dressed in matching black bra and knickers, calmly chose an outfit.

She struggled into a tight skirt, passing her hands over her bum in a manner I wondered might be a tad suggestive. I rubbed myself. She took an age to choose a blouse and when she did she turned so I could see her fastening it over her delicious mounds. My hand pulled at my dick. She tutted with a slight smile, 'You could at least wait for me to leave before you start doing that.' So I did. But the kiss goodbye told me she wasn't angry.

Was it all a game? Was she doing it on purpose? Did she want to go further or just be admired and desired by a young man - who just happened to be her ex-husband's nephew? I have no idea. All I know is that it kept happening.

Each morning she would come into her dressing room and choose an outfit. I got to witness her in bras, knickers, teddies, tights, stockings, suspenders, camisoles, and she looked drop dead gorgeous in everything - even her crusty bathrobe. It got so that I wouldn't even bother to hide the fact I was whacking off. One day I was going at it so hard the duvet got pulled off and she got another sight of my glistening manhood standing at full attention.

Aunt Kate pretended to scold me but from the glint in her eye I knew she was flattered. I got so used to the situation that it didn't even seem cheeky when I suggested that her bra didn't seem quite right. Her look told me I was pushing it, but that didn't stop her from unclasping it and dropping it on the floor.

Before she could choose a new one I shot a huge load of cum with a loud moan of relief.

'I'm so sorry, aunty.' I lay helpless. Globules of spunk were spattered all over the duvet, my stomach, hand and penis. 'Shit. I'm sorry.' Kate, in motherly fashion, shook her head and immediately grabbed the tissues lying by my bed. She started to mop up the cum from the duvet cover. Grabbing more she wiped my stomach and hand. It was when she went to clean my penis she stopped. There she was, my aunt, leaning over me with her tits dangling above my legs, about to wipe spunk off her nephew's still engorged meatstick.

'What am I doing? Oh dear god! You're my sister-in-law's kid. What the fuck?' She grabbed her bra and a blouse and practically ran out of the room, pausing only to shout: 'And clean this mess up, young man!' - like I was just another sloppy teenager.

...

The week passed in awkward silences. She wasn't blaming me but herself. On the weekend I brought tea to her in bed.

'It's just harmless fantasy, Aunty Kate. You said so yourself.' She could hardly look at me. She just sat there with the sheet pulled up over her glorious globes and her arms crossed stubbornly over them. 'What harm have we done? You helped your horny nephew - stopped him from watching internet porn. It's a good thing.' Her mouth broke into a tiny smile. 'We haven't crossed any lines. Well, I have by...y'know... the duvet and all, but all you've done is use your dressing room to get dressed in.'

I'm not sure any of this was making a difference. But she had started sipping her tea so I considered it a thaw. 'Anyway, you can keep using your dressing room or not. But it won't stop me having sexy thoughts about your fantastic body. And it won't stop me beating myself off. I'll just have to try and remember, which will take time so I'll stay longer in bed and then my studies will suffer - and it will all be my Aunt Kate's fault.'

She stuck her tongue out at me. Then, as if to spite me, she flashed me her wondrous rack. All was right with the world.

...

So we carried on. She liked flirting and I was in heaven. I lavished her with praise and she responded by offering glimpses of her boobs, teasingly running her fingers along her pantie lines, sensuously pulling on tights. I would openly masturbate and she would regard my member curiously. 'I don't mean you to take this the wrong way, Michael, but you have rather a nice penis. Your girlfriend must be very satisfied.'

'I don't have a girlfriend.' She must have known. I barely left the house these days. 'I mean, I've had girlfriends. But not many. And none of them looked as good as you.'

'Knock it off, charmer.'

'I would love to see you naked.'

'I'm sure you would' was all the reply she would give me.

But then, the next morning she walked in and dropped her towelling gown to reveal her body in all its glory. Her jugs swayed slightly, hanging weighty and free; her meaty nipples stood proudly erect; her dark bush was lush but trimmed neatly at the edges; her skin was tanned and showed signs of age but not of wear; her hips were curvy and when she turned around revealed her arse to be still firm and the right side of plump. She was a woman in the comfort of her own dressing room, simply choosing a suitable outfit to wear to work. It was the most natural thing to do. The fact her nephew was beating himself off frenziedly while she did it was inconsequential.

I came with a loud cry of delicious satisfaction. 'That is a lot of cum, young man,' she said with a cheeky smile on her face.

...

It was heading one way. Surely. It was clear to anybody - wasn't it? She wanted it as much as I wanted it - didn't she? But I knew it would take a little more finesse than just tearing off her robe and ramming my dipstick in her twat.

The next morning she had nearly finished dressing when I asked her not to leave. I hadn't come yet - it took a good deal of effort to hold back, but it was all part of the strategy.

'I can't hang around,' she responded. 'I've got to get to work. Can you hurry up?'

A slight hesitation, then: 'I'd come quicker if I had a little help.'

Aunt Kate eyed me sceptically. Almost fully dressed, just about to button up her blouse, she paused before sitting on the bed and looking down at my eager manhood. 'This is wrong, Michael. You know this is wrong.'

'Please, Aunt Kate,' I implored. 'Just a little help. Just this once.' Tentatively she reached out and ran her immaculately manicured fingernails over the tip. I shuddered as electricity shot along my spine. She ran her hand down the shaft before gripping it tightly and squeezing. I tried to think of anything else other than what was happening.

Her stroke became vigorous as she said dreamily: 'It is a very nice cock.' Keeping her eyes locked on my old boy she cupped my balls with her other hand and squeezed. I held back as long as I could but the inevitable happened and I came in fierce spurts that shot over her cheek, into her hair before dribbling down onto her chest and skirt.

There was silence punctured only by my shuddering gasps as I came down from my high. 'Now I have to change again,' she eventually said, using humour to hide her obvious emotion.

Her back towards me she took off her sperm-covered bra and skirt. She had done it. She had liked my cock, desired my cock. She had proved it by masturbating me to a mind-bending orgasm.

'Aunty Kate, you are so fucking gorgeous. I want to fuck you. I want to suck your fantastic tits. I want to come on your tits. I want to eat out your cunt. I want to lick and suck every bit of you. I want to fuck you and just keep fucking you.'

'Oh, dear God. Dear God. No!' Grabbing the rest of her clothes, Kate ran out of the room.

...

That day was a torment. I couldn't possibly go to college, so just hung around the house and wondered what the hell was going to happen. When she returned from work that evening I found out. 'Michael, you have to find somewhere else to stay. Right now. Well not now this evening but tomorrow. You have to be gone tomorrow.' Tears in her eyes, she walked upstairs without looking at me.

What chance did I have of sleeping? I had fucked up massively. I had the perfect situation and had blown it. What would I tell my mother? How could I face Aunt Kate again? The sun came up, lightening the room through the thin curtains. It was no use me trying to get any sleep. I should just pack and leave before Kate got up.

I was too late.

Kate entered and stood with her back to the door, closing it behind her. I was too scared to say anything.

'I don't want you to leave,' was all she said.

With that she dropped her robe to the floor and pulled the duvet off me. Immediately my manhood started to spring to life. She fell upon it, holding it to her cheek, kissing it and caressing it as it grew bigger, licking my balls then the entire length and then swallowing the whole of it in her mouth. She grabbed my arse hard and deep-throated me. I held the back of her head and moaned my pleasure.

'I love you, Aunty Kate,' I blurted out as she bobbed up and down, giving me such intense pleasure I could have blown my load immediately. But what if once I had come she decided that she had done her bit and would then send me on my way? I had to make the most of it. It might just be a one-off. It should be a good one.

Rolling her over, I surveyed her luscious body, her magnificent chest, succulent nipples, full hips, long legs and inviting bush dewed with anticipation. Putting my knee between her legs I parted them and gazed down at her sweet gash.