Copyright © 2001,   PleaseCain.  ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit or on another website 
without the written permission of the author.  The author may be contacted 
by writing mrdouble@mrdouble.com, mrdouble@mindspring.com, or mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

Original posting date: 
Saturday PM, October 20, 2001

A wildPage story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: auntjenn.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com
 
 
Story_codes: m/F nephew/aunt inc

Story_intro: Buddy has his eye on his hot aunt.


EXPLICIT MATERIAL NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS.

Copyright 1996 PleaseCain@aol.com -- Commercial use prohibited without author's
consent.



"Aunt Jennie's Buddy" by PleaseCain (PleaseCain@aol.com)

	I ditched the last two periods that day because I knew that with the pep rally going on, there would be plenty of opportunities to disappear without getting caught. I had no use for pep rallies; if they weren't going to teach me anything, then they had no business keeping me. I figured I had better things to do with my time, and as I slipped away, I had no idea how right I was.

	Even before I reached the front door, I could hear music blaring within. My Aunt Jennie was staying with us for a couple of weeks, since she had just returned from France and was looking for a place of her own. She was probably partying now.

	She was Mom's youngest sister, somewhere in her twenties, and she was the free-spirit of the family, always moving around (like to France or Costa Rica), and Mom and my other aunts were always angry at her or rolling their eyes about her. But she was the coolest in my family, and I always secretly rooted for her when everyone gossiped, because she would always sit down and talk to me, or take me to the movies, or take me out to eat when I was little. And even though my name is Jim, she always, always called me Buddy, like I was her buddy.

	So it did not surprise or bug me when I stepped in with the tunes cranked from upstairs. Some old song--soul, I think. I bounded up the steps two at a time to see what was up.

	The bathroom light was on. I giggled thinking about Mom getting pissed about someone changing the station on her bathroom radio again, and I prepared to surprise Aunt Jennie. Instead, I froze.

	She stood facing the huge mirror, nude, eyes closed, singing into the hairbrush and shaking a bathrobe in her clenched fist. I knew I should have ducked into my bedroom before she saw me. But I just stood there staring, stupidly taking it all in.

	As I gawked at her beautiful body, what struck me the most was her skin. So fair and smooth, unblemished by clothes, as my eyes traced her lovely shoulders and the sides of her breasts, down to the small of her shapely, feminine back, her smooth hips and ass cheeks blending into her slightly muscled thighs, her calves, her thin, stretched toes. I glanced to the mirror, surrendering like a good pervert, trying to get a frontal view of her--I had never seen a real woman naked--and as I did, her eyes opened and met mine in the mirror.

	She pushed aside the wet strands of her hair and squealed a high-pitched "Ooh!" The door banged shut in my face.

	Oh shit.

	"I'm sorry," I called weakly through the door, though I doubt she heard me over the radio. Feeling like an ass, I slunk to my room, closed the door, and threw myself on my bed. The radio's blaring ceased, and I was left alone with my thoughts and my guilty conscience.

	Guilty, yet I tried to think about what I had just seen, to remember the details of her beautiful body. It happened too fast. All I could do was wince and bury my head in my arms, like I do whenever I recall any extremely embarrassing situation. It was all the worse because I had always thought about how pretty Aunt Jennie was, and even fantasized about her, especially since she had been back from France.

	And she was pretty--not foxy, like in some Playboy video, but really attractive, especially the more you knew her. She had long, straight blondish hair, which was shorter when she returned from abroad, and I didn't like that at first. But soon I thought she looked even better that way, because her eyes stood out more. She had big grey-blue eyes that were so expressive they could almost speak aloud. She could say anything with her eyes.

	Aunt Jennie also had a great body. She was tall (I'd say about 5-9 or 5-10), thin and strong, a perfect cyclist's body which she got from riding a couple of hours each day. She also had a great rack, which I know is probably a disgusting way to talk about my aunt, but it was true. Her tits were large and full, and firm for their size. More and more often I would found myself staring at them: the round curves beneath her arms; the slight jiggle as she sat; or, on occasion, the definite hint of her nipples stiffening beneath shirt and bra. And more than once I know she caught me eyeing her before I looked quickly away.

	I lay in bed trying to remember what those succulent breasts looked like just moments before, bare and only inches away, but my mind was clouded by the shame I felt.

	There was a light rapping at the door, and my heart nearly stopped.

	"Can I come in?" she called.

	"Sure," I said so weakly that I had to swallow and repeat it louder. The door creaked open, and she sat beside me.

	"I'm sorry," I said without looking up.

	"Hey," she said tenderly, lifting my head by my chin, "you didn't do anything wrong. Don't be sorry." Not only was she not angry, for which I was relieved, but she was sitting next to me wearing her short robe. (I know. I couldn't help it, OK?) My eyes touched on hers, then looked down again, conveniently affording me a look at her long, bare legs, which led into the darkness only inches away beneath the robe.

	"Okay?" her voice broke in. "It was only an accident. Don't be sorry. Besides," and she shifted her bent knees away from me, as if she were going to leave, "nudity is nothing to be ashamed of." She grabbed my chin again.

	"Look at me," she ordered. "Haven't you ever seen a naked woman?" I shook my head, my eyes fixed on hers. "Not even your mother?" she asked, and snickered knowingly when I signaled No.

	She turned away for several long moments, then stroked my cheek once and said, "Look."

	Jennie abruptly stood up before me. She grinned coyly down at me, and then slowly parted her robe, revealing her chest between her breasts, then her tummy, and then ... oh my god! She let it fall from her shoulders, and draped it behind her back from her elbows. The most beautiful woman in my world was standing in front of me, showing me her nude body. Her eyes asked, "Do you like?" My own were too shocked to answer back.

	My gaze moved down, attempting the impossible task of taking it all in. Her breasts jutted firmly from her chest above me, each so large that both of my hands together would barely fit around them. They were capped by wide, pale nipples, ringed by tiny goosebumps. Her tummy looked improbably small and flat beneath her breasts, so that her bellybutton was only like a small, dark chasm that I so wanted to explore with my tongue. Beneath her navel, the slender tummy merged into that most mysterious of places, the slight feminine bulge, crowned by her brown pussyhairs, shaven short and narrow. I grew dizzy with excitement as I examined her sexy pussy, so obviously pampered and cared-for, to the hint of her pouty lips below, in that sweet area where her thin, muscular legs met her shapely hips and smooth torso. Oh God.

	Her voice, thin and soft, broke the awkward silence. "You can touch me if you like." I looked up, quizzingly. "Go on," she whispered.

	I stared down at her navel again, and slowly, hesitantly brought my shaking hand to her tummy. My fingertips lightly brushed her smooth skin, tracing down and over her bellybutton, then back up again in an arc, until I felt the bottom of her ribs, and I quickly drew my hand away. I looked down again to the bed, conscious more than anything of my volatile erection, which she couldn't have seen, as I was still lying on my stomach and leaning up, so that my hard-on was grinding into the bed. But still, at any moment, I might lose it ...

	"Interesting choice," she giggled. "Sit up." I did.

	She whispered, "I want you to touch my breasts." I sat dazed, blankly staring up. She reached down to take my hand in hers, and drew it up to the bottom of her right tit, pressing my fingers into the smooth meat curving down below her nipple. She guided my fingers along the side of her boob, gently releasing my hand and letting me feel for myself.

	With my fingertips, then my whole hand, then with both hands, I brushed the full shape of her luscious tits, discovering, kneeding, lifting them. They were new and soft. I loved them. I wanted to feel every inch, but I also desperately needed to caress her and give her pleasure, to demonstrate my "technique," of which I had none but what I'd read from Penthouse letters. Instead, I could not restrain myself; I was groping awkwardly, and my fingers were drawn to her nipples. She sighed deeply, but whether from boredom or disapproval or arousal, I did not know.

	"Why don't you slip off your clothes and lie down," she told me softly. The scene was so dreamy, but I quickly complied, tetherless in her control, but also eager--to please her, and in hoping against hope that what I thought might happen, would.

	Prone, I stared up, waiting. I didn't know what to do with my hands. So naked, all I felt was the constriction in my hardened cock, arched across my belly, touching it with only the tip of its head.

	She lay on her side, her head by my knees, sidling against me.

	"Scoot down." I did, a little at a time. My penis throbbed with my movement. When it was just below her head, she patted my tummy playfully and smiled at me. "OK."

	Jennie lifted my dick and slid her hand slowly upward, running her other hand through the hair of my pubus and upper thighs.

	Then she bent her right leg, planted her right foot on the bed and pointed her knee to the ceiling, brazenly spreading her pussy for me. My eyes were riveted.

	"Play with me," she cooed.

	Without hesitation, bug-eyed in wonder, I reached for her sex. It looked like such a complex thing, and to tell the truth, I couldn't tell exactly where her hole was, and I didn't know where to touch her. So I started with the most familiar part (from pictures, anyway), and brushed my fingertips through her pussy hair. I trailed tenderly to her lips. They looked so exposed and soft and pink, a little slick beneath my fingers. Such a turn-on, touching her femininity. I traced those lips a few more times, when her hips tilted slightly forward, receptive to my caresses. That's as far as I got.

	From the first, Aunt Jennie had a gentle yet surehanded grasp on my dick, squeezing softly along its length. My cock felt full even before she touched it, and she could probably tell. But at a certain point while I was touching her, she really turned up the heat.

	I felt a second grip around the base of my cock, and she masterfully stroked my rod with the perfect friction: ascending my shaft, tightening as they reached my head, and then squeezing the swollen bulb as they slipped off and grabbed again at the base.

	After a few of these torturous and increasingly forceful strokes, I had to shut my eyes and arch my back. I was so close.

	"Yesss," she whispered in a tone I had never before heard from her. It was like a breathless, excited hiss. It made me crazy.

	Her grip tightened to a fist, and she removed one hand. While she jerked up and down on my ripened cock, she tickled behind my balls, then lifted and squeezed my sack up against my penis. Her wild jacking focused more on the skin around my head. Then her grip on my balls tightened and she pulled me hard!

	"Buddy!" she exclaimed in that same breathless tone, but louder, like she was congratulating me for being a good boy. I lost it there.

	"Ummm," she hummed as she pumped the sperm from my penis. I couldn't believe the wave that carried me. All thought left me, like I'd blacked out from ecstacy--my cock and asscheeks tightening, my hips bucking forward then freezing, my back rigid, the nerves in my cock aflame beneath her hand, squeezing seemingly endless gushes of cum onto my belly, then through her fingers and down my pole, trickling between my balls and legs. I was her puppet, unable to stop.

	Finally, mercifully, she released me, just as the sensation was becoming too much. When I opened my eyes, she was sitting up. She looked down with the sweetest smile, one that I will always remember, while she stroked my leg. Her eyes.

	Without a word she rose, then came back with a damp towel. She wiped and cleaned me while I lay silent and motionless. "Such a mess," she teased.

	After she dried me, she pulled the sheet over me and picked up her robe. She bent down, her face close to mine, and stroked my cheek.

	"Are you all right?"

	I nodded.

	"I love you, Buddy," she said, and kissed me warmly on the lips. She walked naked out of my room, closing the door behind her.

	I remember it all so clearly. That was the last I saw of her, completely naked. She left unexpectedly early the next morning. Three years ago, today. Three years of busting my ass at the gym, of saving myself, of thinking about her, night after night. I grin in the mirror, and rub more mousse into my new haircut. The shortest I've ever had it, but sharp. A man's haircut. She'll like it.

	Mom calls, "Jimmy, the cab's here! Let's go!"

	"Coming!" I yell. I hope she picks us up at the airport. Wonder if she'll make the move on me this evening already. No matter; we've got the whole week before her wedding, and we don't fly out until the morning after.

	I sling my wardrobe bag over my shoulder, and look at myself in one last pose, cocking my head, seeing me as she'll see me coming off the plane. She'll be glad to see her Buddy.

	I flick the lightswitch behind me.

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This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.