Visiting Aunt NancybyMisterReason©
There are some things that you're forced to do when you're young that you dread. For me, it used to be the annual journey I would have to make with my folks to visit my Aunt Nancy and Uncle Doug each summer. The visits only lasted four or five days but to me they seemed to be never ending, and it was an annual event through the late 60's and 70's for us.
I was an only child, and my mother's sister and her husband were childless, so while my mother yakked incessantly with her sister and my old man played cards on the back porch with Uncle Doug, I had to make do with playing a game I made up behind their garage, where I would throw my ball up onto the sloped roof and catch it when it came down.
It's one of those things you do for hours when you're a kid, but as the years passed it got less and less interesting. How long can you pretend you're Mickey Mantle waiting to see where the ball would come off the roof, anyway?
One year, things changed. My Uncle Doug wasn't there. Nothing was explained to me, but later I found out that Uncle Doug had been cheating on my Aunt Nancy. Much later I was to learn that the person he had been canoodling with was a man, but back then all I knew was that things changed.
My old man, crafty SOB that he was, turned Uncle Doug's absence into a plus for himself. Declaring that without Doug there, he would have nothing to do and no reason to go, so he excused himself from the trip. I thought that was a good plan, so I tried to use the same excuse.
No dice. "You need to keep your mother company on the drive," my old man explained, sentencing me to the three hour ride each way and the interminable four days in between, while he got to stay home and sit around in his underwear and watch F-Troop and the Game of the Week.
Years passed. I was a teenager, and stuck with my mother and my aunt out in the middle of nowhere, but I was in the process of discovering women. It was about then that I started to find myself becoming attracted to my Aunt Nancy. Perhaps because she was the only woman around. My mother didn't count, of course, because while I loved her and all, she's kinda plump and drab looking.
Not that my Aunt Nancy was a raving beauty or anything, but there was something about her that got my interest. Maybe it was the fact that she was forbidden fruit, or perhaps just the beginning of my infatuation with older women that would last beyond my teenage years, but it started to become clear that I was really attracted to my Aunt Nancy.
In the summer of my 18th year, I think my folks were surprised when I didn't put up a fight when the yearly trip was mentioned. I was starting college in the fall, and they realized that they couldn't force me to go any longer, needing to rely on the promise of my getting to drive to and from Aunt Nancy's house as an enticement. I showed token resistance only because I felt it was expected when the trip was brought up, and when we pulled into the driveway, I was even happier to see Aunt Nancy on the porch waving to us than her sister was.
My Aunt Nancy was my Mom's older sister, and I figured her to be in her middle 50's. She had begun to show some signs of age by that summer; a touch of grey in her hair and a little bit of wrinkling around the eyes and neck, but she was still in great shape.
Never a large woman to begin with, she had become quite slender in the years since Uncle Doug had hit the road. "Petite" is what Aunt Nancy insisted she was when my mother would comment about how skinny she had become, but I thought she looked really good.
"My favorite little man!" Aunt Nancy exclaimed when we got out of the car, giving me a big hug and smothering me with kisses. "And he drives now?"
"Has been for a year," my mother was saying, and while it had been two years that I had been driving I was too busy enjoying the affection my Aunt Nancy was giving me to correct her.
"Getting almost as tall as me too!" Aunt Nancy declared, making me blush as she put her hand on top of my head.
It wasn't that Aunt Nancy was that tall, being about 5'8" or so, but I was that short, and was destined to be that same 5'6" my whole life. I was sensitive about being such a little twerp, but I endured the humiliation, instead concentrating on the sweet scent that emerged from under Aunt Nancy's shapely arm when she raised it and the faint hint of peach fuzz that covered the deep hollow of her armpit.
I tried to keep my interest hidden as I took inventory of my Aunt's body. The long down on her forearms and the abundance of fuzz under her arms - did that indicate Aunt Nancy had a hairy pussy? In my mind it did at least.
I imagined a wild thicket of light brown hair between those skinny thighs of hers, which was alright by me. Back then, in the 70's, women had hair between their legs, and some had it in other places, and then as now, that was fine by me as well.
We went into the house and while Mom and her sister started talking, I sipped my soda and tried not to look at my Aunt Nancy, who had no idea of the fantasies that were going through my head. If she did she probably would have fainted.
Excusing myself to go the the bathroom when I started getting aroused to an extent that it would be visible, I took a leak and then did a little snooping, as was my custom.
I went through through the clothes hamper and dug out a pair of my Aunt Nancy's panties. Holding the worn undies to my face, I inhaled the musky aroma inspired by the discoloration in the crotch of the panties as well as knowing that they had just been between Aunt Nancy's legs not to look ago.
The guys in the neighborhood always said that divorced and widowed women were always horny and were easy, although nobody in my group had ever learned that first hand. It was one of those urban legends or something, but since my Aunt Nancy was by herself, it was easy to fantasize about her.
My ears perked up when Aunt Nancy mentioned that she had gone out on a couple of dates over the winter, a twinge of jealousy actually going through me as I pictured her with somebody else, but she said that it didn't amount to anything.
I watched Aunt Nancy go to the refrigerator, eyeing her perky little butt as she bent over a little and the way the muscles in her slender legs bulged as she moved, and when she dropped a piece of paper on the way back, my eyes strayed to the top of her blouse as it bowed open, revealing her little treasures.
How little they actually were surprised me when most of her tiny hangers were revealed as she bent over. They looked to be the size of pears as they dangled there, briefly free from the cups of what appeared to be a heavily padded brassiere. I could see the darkness of what appeared to be very large aureoles and just a hint of the crimson nipples at their centers.
I loved little breasts. Hell, I loved all breasts, and there was something about seeing my Aunt Nancy's tiny buds like that as she bent over that made me hard. I was so enthralled that I wasn't as careful about my peeking as I usually was, and it was only when I saw my aunt's hand come up and clutch the top of her scoop neck blouse that I realized she had caught me leering at her.
Aunt Nancy seemed embarrassed as she straightened up quickly, and it was all I could do to keep from telling her that she shouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed. More than a handful - hell, more that a mouthful is a waste when they're attached to someone you have the hots for, and I wanted nothing more than to tell her that as she sat down and began to lose the flush in her cheeks.
"Mind if I take a shower?" I asked, feeling the stickiness of the long drive on me, but most of all needing to get into the shower and rub one out while the memory of seeing my Aunt's titties was still fresh in my mind.
I went down the long hallway with my suitcase, heading toward the guest room that would be my home for the next few days, swinging the door closed behind me. I noticed that the old creaky door didn't close and was ajar, but I didn't bother to close it, instead just unpacking my stuff and tossing the clothes into the cedar dresser.
Who knows, I thought to myself as I pulled my t-shirt over my head. Maybe my Aunt Nancy had noticed me staring down her blouse and was so turned on that she had to have me, and would charge down the hall and into my room.
Funny thing happened just about then, after I stepped out of my shorts and was reaching for the elastic of my underwear. No, my Aunt Nancy didn't charge into the room, but she was there, out in the hall, looking at me.
I don't think Aunt Nancy had come down there intending to watch me undress. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her out in the hall, a stack of towels in her arms, and was probably just on her way to the bathroom with them when she saw the guest room door ajar.
It only lasted a short time, not even a minute, but they were the most erotic seconds of my young life. Managing to pretend that I wasn't aware of the door being ajar or Aunt Nancy's presence, I peeled down my fruit of the looms and stepped out of them, making a big show out of picking up the underwear and untangling them while standing there naked for her inspection.
What possessed me to stand there and pretend I didn't know Aunt Nancy was standing there, her mouth wide open as she stared at the guy she had called her "favorite little man" a little while ago? Why did a skinny kid with the body of a "before" subject in a Charles Atlas" bodybuilding ad, allow his mother's sister to see him in the raw?
It was my cock that gave me the confidence I had. I had learned several years ago that while I wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer at school, and wasn't very athletic at all, what I was blessed with was a rather large penis, the size of which was flattered even more by my small frame. When I learned in the locker room that despite my scrawny body, I had more down there than most of the other guys, I suddenly became a lot less modest.
Having been so aroused earlier by the peek down my Aunt's blouse, while I wasn't sporting a boner, I was sporting what I called a semi, so what Aunt Nancy was gawking at swinging between my legs was pretty close to me at my finest, probably close to being the eight inches that it would become when fully erect.
I stretched as nonchalantly as I could, posing for a moment before turning slowly around to face the doorway, preparing to act shocked when I saw her standing there. Instead, I heard Aunt Nancy hustling down the hall, calling out that there were fresh towels in the bathroom as she whizzed past, looking at the wall as she went.
I hadn't been in the shower more than five seconds before my fist was wrapped around my cock, stroking it while pretending that it was Aunt Nancy's hand.
"I just passed Kenny's room, and I saw his cock. He's hung like a horse, and if he wasn't my nephew I would have sucked him off just now," I imagined my Aunt Nancy telling my mother, and even though it was the most unlikely conversation imaginable, it helped get me off.
"Swallow it, Aunt Nancy," I grunted as my cum spurted into the tub, my knees shaking as I came hard and fast. "That's it. Take it all."
34A. That was what the tag said on the back of my Aunt Nancy's bra that I had fished out of the hamper after dinner. My first girl friend, Shawn Hermann, wore a 32A, but her harness wasn't padded, at least not like my Aunt Nancy's was. These bra cups were as thick as quilts.
Those were the thoughts that I fell asleep with later that night. Images of Aunt Nancy, and every other woman that I ever longed for.
Miss Cross, the school nurse, wore a 44DD. I found that out on the evening after I had gotten injured at gym, getting hit in the nuts during dodge ball. The teacher insisted I go to the nurse after I rolled around on the gym floor while the class laughed hysterically. That was fine with me, because I hated gym anyway.
This had happened a couple of months ago, during the last gym class I would ever have to endure. As my balls ached I thought that this was a hell of a way to celebrate turning 18.
Down at the nurse's office, the chubby middle aged nurse insisted that I let her check to see if I had a hernia. I let her bring me behind a curtain, and when I took off that goofy jock strap that they made us wear, I got the first double-take of my life from a woman when Nurse Cross saw my cock.
Nurse Cross did the most through job of checking for a rupture that I ever had. I was used to the quick squeeze along with the request to cough we got from the doctor each year. Miss Cross was much more caring, rolling around my balls and asking me if it hurt.
"No," I said, because it didn't hurt any more, and the proof was that my cock was pointing straight out in a matter of seconds, the product of her tender pudgy hands and her huge tits against my shoulder, and she didn't even blink when she saw the long string of pre-cum hanging from the opening of my dick.
Just then, the door to the office opened, and Miss Cross let go of my nuts to run around the screen to take care of some stupid little shit who had a nosebleed, ruining what I thought was going to be a very interesting experience.
As it turned out, my pleasure was only delayed. After school, a car pulled up alongside me as I started to walk home. It was Miss Cross, who was concerned about my injury. I told her that I was still a little sore, and after I refused her offer to take me to the hospital, did take her up on her offer to continue treating me.
That afternoon, I experienced just about everything a guy could. Miss Cross gave me a massage, fretting over my testicles which she insisted looked swollen. After she insisted I call home to tell my parents that I would be late, I returned to her bedroom to find her stark naked.
My first naked woman. Her breasts were gigantic, huge watermelons that hung down to her waist, and she had a jungle of hair between her legs. She even had hair under her arms, like a couple of the "hippie" girls at school did. To me, she was gorgeous, and by the time I left her house that night, I had experienced just about everything possible.
Filled with confidence, my life went on, but even though I dated girls my own age, for me there was nothing like older women.
I guess looking at the bra tag on Aunt Nancy's harness brought back that memory, because nothing else about the two women was remotely similar. Miss Cross was built more like my mother while Aunt Nancy was built along the lines of Miss Hathaway from The Beverly Hillbillies, or Tiffany Bolling from The Mod Squad.
My mother and Aunt Nancy were sleeping in the same bed, the bed that my aunt had shared with her husband for years. What were they doing in there? Were they doing what I imagined all women did when they were alone? Playing with each others tits?
It was that part of the dream that woke me up, because my mother was not the kind of woman I had those thoughts about. I don't even know if my father did any more. Regardless, I was awake, and with nothing else to do, I got up and turned on the light by the side of the bed and pulled an old magazine out of the drawer, figuring that reading the magazine would tire my eyes out so I could get back to sleep.
"Karen Valentine," I sighed to myself, looking at the perky TV actress who was featured in an article. "What I would like to do to you."
I added her to the list of women that fit that description, which was in the millions by then, and my hand reached into the fly of my pajamas and fished out my dick, which was already awake.
I realized that I was going to have to get up and get something to clean the mess that was bound to occur eventually, but while I slowly stroked my dick under the sheets I heard the sound of footsteps out in the hall.
At the space between the door and the floor, I could see the shadow of somebody. It could be a burglar, I supposed, although out here in the sticks that was highly unlikely. It also could be my mother, asking me if I had taken my allergy medicine. Possible, but not what I was hoping for,
What I was hoping for? Did I just imagine the tap at the door?
"Kenny?" came the whisper from the other side of the door.
"Come in," I whispered back, pulling my hand off of my erection as the slender woman in the frayed bathrobe came into the room, closing the door behind her.
"Saw the light on," Aunt Nancy said by way of explanation, while I slid up the bed so that my shoulders were leaning a little bit against the headboard. "Can't sleep?"
"Woke up for some reason," I said, not telling her that she was the cause.
"Your mother - she snores worse than ever," Aunt Nancy said, easing down on the bed next to me.
"I know. Dad says that too," I agreed, the scent of whatever lotion my mother's sister was wearing making me shiver.
"I was happy that you decided to come up again this year," Aunt Nancy said, patting my leg through the sheet, and although it was an innocent gesture she had no idea what it did to me. "You're heading to college soon. I can't believe how the years have flown by. It's sweet of you to come up and spend time with your old Aunt Nancy, even if you do need a haircut."
My hair was long in the fashion of the era, coming down to my shoulders, and while it made me look a little feminine, girls seemed to like it that way on other guys so I was willing to try it. If Aunt Nancy wanted me to though, I would have shaved my skull.
"You're not old," I said. "You still look as pretty as ever."
"What a fibber!" Aunt Nancy said with a chuckle, grabbing my foot through the sheet and squeezing it, and it was about that time that she noticed the tent that I was making out of the pale blue sheet, just a few feet up from where she was touching me, and although she quickly averted her eyes, she knew I noticed where she was looking.
"You're sweating," I said when I noticed the beads of perspiration on her brow. "Take off your bathrobe and stay awhile."
"I should get back to bed. Your mother will wonder..."
"She's dead to the world," I assured her, and as I watched her let the robe fall off her shoulders to rest on the back of the chair she sat in, my heart raced even faster. "Her snoring wakes up everybody but herself."
"She tells me that you're quite popular with the girls back home," Aunt Nancy said. "I'm not surprised. You're quite a handsome young man. There's a young girl that lives down the road some. Her name's Ellie - Ellie Paterson. Maybe I could introduce you two."
"I'm not interested in young girls," I informed my aunt, shifting my weight so that the tent in the sheet became even more pronounced. "My tastes run to older women."
"Oh really?" Aunt Nancy said, chuckling nervously. "You like the college girls already?"
"No, I was thinking more along the line of somebody around - say - 50 or so."
"50? Lord, your mother is 49!"
"How old does that make you then, Aunt Nancy?"
"54 - 55 now, I mean."
"You don't look it. Mom looks older than you."
"Kids do that to you," Aunt Nancy explained.
"I wanted you to come in here before," I blurted out. "This afternoon, when I was undressing."
"I was just bringing you..."
"Don't apologize. I saw you looking at me. I enjoyed having you see me like that. I've wanted you to see me naked for a long time."
"I'm sorry," Aunt Nancy said, blushing and looking past me to the window. "It's just that I wasn't expecting - I always think of you as the baby of the family."
"But I'm not any more, am I Aunt Nancy?... Aunt Nancy?"
"No," Aunt Nancy said, her hands shaking, and I saw the outline of her nipples against the bland white nightie she was wearing. "You're not."
"Did you like what you saw?" I asked, and without waiting for an answer I continued. "I saw you today too. Only saw a little though."