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Mum had asked you if I could stay a few days whilst I was attending interviews in London. I was excited by that. Staying with my glamorous, divorced aunty in her super pad right in the centre of London’s Docklands was about as cool as anything could be. It was a pity that your daughter Sara would be away for we get on great, but then hey, that left you all to me.
It had been at my eighteenth birthday party, an outdoors barbeque, when mum had asked you, her sister, if I could stay. And fuck did you look good. Tight jeans tucked into, black boots, a white tee with one of those very loose weave, hip length open cardis over it. Women like you in their early forties must dress like that on purpose for your outfit accentuated your great legs, fantastic arse and bouncy big tits to perfection. Total wet dream material.
I’d arrived late one evening and you met me at the station. Again a totally wank inducing outfit. What the fuck were you up to? We had a pizza in a local restaurant and you bought me two beers. I felt very grown up particularly when I followed you out of the restaurant watching the sway and wiggle of your awesomely undulating hips and bum and the looks of envy from all the men in the place.
I had an assessment the next day so after breakfast that you served in, for fuck’s sake a dressing gown ‘Were you fucking naked under it?’ was all I could think of as I scoffed some eggs and sausages I think, I took on the DLR.
I didn’t actually see that much of you during the first couple of days. I was out from seven thirty to around eight and you seemed busy with your work stuff. I don’t profess to understand what you do, but I know it’s to do with writing and book publishing for mum and dad told me that. It always strikes me as a “posh” job, like marketing, mixing with powerful clients and having high powered meetings.
As we spent some time together, though, we got to know each other more. Our relationship was more as two people than as aunt and nephew. You opened up a little more and I began to feel more relaxed. I still wanked at least four times a day about you though!
It made a nice change to be staying at yours, all the hustle and bustle of the city and Docklands. It also made a great change to be living like an adult without my cloying mother and twit of a father all over me all the time. And to have my own plasma with sky and everything and not be told what not to watch was fantastic.
I had been there two nights when an incident that will change me for ever happened.
I had finished early at the centre, a lack of staff or something they’d said, I toyed with the idea of wandering through central London but decided against it and thought I would just head back to yours and “chill”. Have a sneaky cigarette I hoped, and then just relax. For relax at your place, really read wank.
As I let myself in I called to you but my “Aunty C, I’m back” cries went unanswered. Removing my shoes and fleece, I padded through the apartment in just my socks, jeans and snug fitting T-shirt. Grabbing a glass of Coke from the fridge I made my way to the balcony, it was then I heard the shower.
Glancing out over the Thames I could see a pleasure boat making it’s way to Greenwich and the Dome looking like a big upside down fruit bowl. The late afternoon sun was reflecting off the buildings casting long shadows and making the big, wooden floored balcony with half of it under a massive sun shade, quite dim. ‘Autumn’s almost here’ I thought as one of those life defining moments occurred. One of those moments where I had a choice, I could have walked into my bedroom and shut the door, I could have put some shoes on and gone out, but I didn’t. For some reason I looked back, into your room, the shower was still running but what I hadn’t realised until that moment was the door to the shower room at the back of your bedroom was open.
I could see you, all of you. There was aunt C naked in the shower. True, the cubicle was a bit steamed up, but there was absolutely no mistaking the gloriously, bare curves of you nice tits and arse. I know you didn’t know then, but not only was I a virgin but until that moment the only time I’d seen a naked woman in the flesh Mum at home which doesn’t count. Sure I’d seen loads in magazines and on the net, but none for real.
I panicked; I didn’t know what to do. What I didn’t do was what probably I should have done; go to my room and have yet another wank over you, after all I had some massive wank material in my mind; your bare tits. Or go out, that would have been gentlemanly, that would have been the sensible action, but my eighteen year old brain was going down a completely different track.
I needed a better look, I needed to get closer. I knew it was wrong, I knew it was dangerous and I knew it was a bit pervy, but I couldn’t help myself, it was as if I was being driven by an irresistible force. My heart was beating so fast and my mouth was dry. As I crept through your bedroom, the unmistakably female smell filling antalya escort my nostrils, my cock just got harder and harder.
I saw your bra hanging over the edge of your bed. I wanted to touch it and feel the thin material that had until just a short while ago been covering your tits. Then I nearly trod on your panties, which were lying on the floor. Your fucking, ridiculously flimsy panties were a miniscule thong. My heart pounded as I looked it, I wanted to pick up and smell it and rub it all over my face. It was such a tiny, delicate garment that it didn’t look as if it would cover much, but it would look fabulous snaking between the bulbous cheeks of your great arse. I picked it up, I couldn’t stop myself. I smelt it and rubbed it over my face. Your panties were on my face. Where your cunt had been just moments ago were on my lips, it was almost as if I was kissing your cunt. Fucking hell this was awesome, but really fucking pervy, I thought as I wondered if I could steal them and take them to my room? Shit can anything better this?
As silently as I could I moved further into your bedroom, from only three metres or so away I could see you, standing in the shower, slightly at an angle away from me. I knew I could get caught at any moment, I knew it was an insane thing to be doing, but I just couldn’t move away. I was mesmerised. I was transfixed by the way the water cascaded over your shoulders, ran down your back, down your upper arms, over your tits, over your bottom, your bum, your butt, your arse. Oh God what an arse. It was there, right before me, glistening from the water, round and ever so lightly dimpled with it’s deepening valley towards your most private place. Your smooth nicely muscled thighs, a result of your tennis lessons and time on the running machine at the gym. And shit, what the fuck must that be like, you and your tits on a running machine, Jesus wept!
It was then I realised what you were doing with your hands, I couldn’t see properly but it seemed you were pushing your breasts together, squeezing them and pushing them upwards, then rolling them against your chest. I was rooted to the spot! Here was my aunt in the shower, playing with her tits and I’m a couple of metres away standing gawping with the biggest hard-on I’ve ever had fighting to get out of my jeans. Then panic!!!!!
My heart stopped, you reached out and turned off the shower. My life flashed before me! I was going to get caught spying on my aunt. You’d kill me, my mum and dad would kill me. The disgrace I’d face, their son Matt, an eighteen year old pervert watching his aunt in the shower. I had no escape from your room, well not in that short time anyway. I was “dead”. But then you did something I didn’t expect at all.
Turning around completely facing away from me, your eyes closed, you slid slowly down the glass wall into the shower tray. Your shower cap caught on something and was pulled up a bit; you reached up and pushed it off your head letting your champagne blonde hair tumble out onto your shoulders. Of course, it immediately became soaked and was matted to your head in seconds. I moved to my right so I could see better. Your mouth was slightly open and I could just see your tongue protrude onto your top lip. Both hands were still cupping your breasts, Your left thumb and forefinger was pulling gently on your left nipple. I could see it standing out, erect, the light pink disc around it puckered and swollen. Then right before my eyes, right before my fucking eyes you parted your thighs. Your knees were bent and splayed open, I watched fascinated as your right hand slowly moved over your smooth and slightly rounded tummy down to the sparsely haired triangle between your legs, shit she must trim those to get that shape, I realised. I could see all of you, your large breasts, the left one still in your left hand, the right hanging before my eyes, your damp tummy and thighs and your cunt, fuck yes I could see your cunt, all of it and boy did you have what looked to be a big cunt; but then I had nothing to compare it to did I? How you hadn’t seen me I don’t know, but I was too turned on to move.
I was in danger of losing the plot completely. I flicked the buttons of my jean fly open and immediately found the hard shaft of my cock. I managed to get my fingers down the top of my CKs and pull myself free and over the top of them. A surreal but so “hot” a moment for my young adolescent brain.
Your breathing was heavy and as the fingers of your right hand came into contact with your lips I heard a long soft moan escape you. I watched with my hand wrapped tightly around myself, small movements were all I could manage without cumming there and then. I was close but I wanted to see a bit more. Here was aunty Catherine, aunt C, fingering herself, her fingers making small circles on what I presumed was her clit. I could see the wet lips of my aunt’s cunt glistening. I watched as every so often your lips parted slightly, showing a wet dark hole. Then you did it, lara escort you started to fuck yourself. As you slipped two fingers inside yourself I knew I was about to cum. I desperately pulled a tissue from my pocket and only just in time too. You were moaning quite loudly and saying some incoherent things, but the sight of you, your tit in your hand and fingers in your cunt sent me over the edge. My knees felt weak, I could hardly breath and then I felt that small explosion in the bottom of my loins. I missed part of the tissue and got it with my hand. I was fucking lucky it didn’t go all over your carpet. You didn’t notice though. You were away in a world of fantasy; I could have sworn I heard you mutter “Matt,” though that may have been wishful thinking. With a sudden reality bite I knew I had to get out of there or I would get caught!
A few minutes later I was still shaking as I finished a cigarette, I knew you wouldn’t approve but my mind was a total fucking whirl! I was filled with guilt, amazement, more guilt, wonder and yet more guilt. I had just spied on my aunt, I had just spied on you as you masturbated. And it was absolutely fucking amazing.
I think your look of shock at seeing me sitting there on the patio helped more than you would realise. All I could say was “Oh, Hi aunt, I got off early”, I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t exactly say “Oh, Hi aunt, I got off early, came back here and watched you have an orgasm in the shower,” could I?
I was shocked. Shocked and surprised. Shocked, surprised and a little worried. Shocked at seeing anyone on my balcony, I was so unused to that. Surprised to see you, for I had thought it would be a couple of hours before you got home. Home? Where the hell did that come from? I was almost thinking that we were living together! And worried, for where you were standing was near to the opened window of my bathroom, where I had just masturbated. I knew you would not have been able look in. The window tilted with the bottom moving out about six inches and the glass was frosted, so that was out of the question, but after I turned the water off and lay on the floor I may well have made some noises. Noises that even a likely sexually naïve, eighteen year-old would realise came from a woman in the throes of an orgasm.
“Oh hi Matt,” I stammered, adding rather inanely. “That’s nice, welcome home.”
Home again, what the hell’s getting into me?
You smiled. “Thanks it’s very nice to be here.”
What did you mean by that? I wondered, maybe you did hear me. Oh shit.
“Would you like something to drink? It’s quite warm isn’t it,” I rabbited on. “For the time of the year that is and this balcony is a real sun trap.”
“What would you like, tea or coffee or a coke?”
“What are you having?” You asked.
You were showing such maturity; maybe with Sara not here you had sort of grown up more. I found it hard to believe you were only eighteen. We seemed to get on as well as I did with the more mature men I occasionally dated or played golf and tennis with.
“Or would you like beer?” I asked, not answering your question, but adding with a smile as I somewhat recovered my poise. “I know I shouldn’t tempt you, but then I have always been your naughtier aunt, haven’t I? I take it you’ve had beer before?”
“Yes of course and I would like a beer,” you replied. “Shall I get it and would you like one as well, aunt c?”
“Thanks yes, you get it and yes I will have one.”
“Here you go,” you said when you returned with the two opened Becks in their bottles. “Ok in the bottle?”
Although I didn’t really like drinking from a bottle I knew that younger people did and so, not wanting to seem uncool, I replied.
“Sure that’s fine.”
I had sat down on one of the wooden sun beds and you propped yourself against the table looking down on me. We both sipped our beers in silence. I was acutely aware that I was dressed inappropriately for being alone with a guy I didn’t know well, let alone a probably randy, highly sexed teenager. I had just thrown something on expecting to sunbathe for a while and then change to prepare dinner when you got back.
The singlet moulded itself tightly across and around my breasts and gave no disguise to the absence of a bra; yes, I would have sunbathed topless, at least, as I usually did on my secluded balcony. My nipples, though not hard, would probably have been partially visible as a darker shadow through the vest. I leaned forward and crossed my arms making the sipping of the beer from the bottle rather difficult.
“I wouldn’t say naughty aunt, more my playful and fun aunt,” you said making me look up.
‘Was there a double meaning there? Had you seen or heard something?’
Just as I had when I met you, I saw that sly stare that men use when eyeing up a girl’s tits or legs. You were eyeing both of mine for my shorts only reached mid-thigh.
Smiling side escort and feeling slightly more relaxed and in control now, I asked. “Is that good Matt?”
“Yes, very good, I always looked forward to my aunt C and uncle Kevin visiting or, more even, coming to your big house. Well before the two of you split that is of course, sorry about that.”
“Look shall we drop the aunt bit now; it makes me feel old, use Catherine or Cat, whatever you prefer. And that’s ok but thanks for saying sorry.”
“Oh ok, great, thanks, I’ll use Cat, as mum does, if that’s ok.”
I finished my beer and said.
“Look I have some work to do now, so I’ll have to leave you.” I stood up and you did the same. I forgot and let my arms drop to my sides; your gaze immediately went straight to my breasts. That’s not something I’m unused to for it happens all the time; just one of the burdens of being large breasted, I suppose. We were only a few feet apart, neither moved for a moment or two, until I turned away, breaking our eye contact. I bent down to pick up my bottle forgetting that I would present you with a close up view of my bum, again something I should not do in front of a man, especially when I wasn’t wearing panties. I wondered if you would notice the absence of a VPL.
“That’s fine, I’ve plenty to do,” you replied following me back into the apartment.
As we went through the sliding glass doors I stopped suddenly and turned.
“I think I’ll close these, it’ll get chilly soon,” I said as you nearly bumped into me. “Woops.”
“Sorry,” you mumbled as we again looked at each other.
This time I bent down in a more ladylike fashion to lift the lock on the bottom of the door. My head was about level with your waist, which was just a couple of feet away. Oh my god I thought to myself as I saw the lump in your tight jeans, he’s got an erection.
At first I didn’t know what to say. I could hardly I say? “Hi aunt C, you looked great in the shower!” Not really, well you looked great, more than great but I couldn’t tell you, couldn’t discuss it. And then seeing you in that tight top and shorts, I immediately felt myself becoming more physically uncomfortable. That familiar tightening in my balls, feeling my cock beginning to stir, grow and fill with blood just as it did when I watched girls at college playing netball, flashing their legs and knickers their tits bouncing all over the place. It was all too much, I had to cool down, compose myself. You said something about being “hot and a suntrap”, my mind was whirling; I had to get out of the situation just for a moment!
Then whether you knew it or not you gave me the opportunity, did you know I was trying desperately not to stare at your tits, I wondered?
“What would you like, tea or coffee or a coke?” you asked.
Trying my hardest to just concentrate on not making a fool of myself all I could do was give a short lame reply “What are you having?”
And so I found myself at your fridge, two beers in hand and letting the cold draft from inside it wash over me. Here I was eighteen years old in my aunt’s flat, woops apartment that’s what she calls it, alone with her and she’s standing on a patio wearing not a lot and looking hot. That might have been ok and manageable had I not spied on her just ten minutes ago in the throws of an orgasm, but I had and that made it fucking difficult for me.
I felt quite grown up walking out with two beers. At home dad didn’t like me drinking; of course I got my hands on the occasional two litre bottles of Strongbow with my mates. And two litres would easily knock me into next week with a hangover from hell. This was different though, I didn’t feel eighteen. I wondered if this was what being grown felt like? You know, just go to the fridge and grab a beer as if there’s no issue. No “Matt, you’re too young” or “When you’re older you can do what you like.” You were beginning to make me feel grown up, like a man and that felt good.
It was nice chatting to you on the balcony drinking the beer in the late afternoon sun. But then came another defining moment, for no longer were you ‘aunt C.’
“Look shall we drop the aunt bit now, it makes me feel old, use Catherine or Cat, whatever you prefer,” you’d said.
I had to stop for a moment, you’d always been aunty or aunt, and I guessed Cat was as good as anything I could think of.
“Oh ok, great, thanks, I’ll use Cat if that’s ok.”
The beer felt and tasted good, and with my lack of tolerance to alcohol I felt a little light headed on just that one bottle. I felt a little more comfortable too as my erection had dissipated somewhat. My mind was able to think of other things than the cause for my restrictive trousers.
In my light headedness I recall you saying something about “Work and being busy.” You got up and as you did so there they were again, moulded by your tight top, and slightly flattened by the tightness of your vest-top. It was a brief glimpse but enough to see in the chilling air your nipples standing out. For the umpteenth time in the last hour my throat went dry, I think you were aware of what I had seen and as we went in you seemed almost defensive in the way you crossed your arms over your chest.
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