My Aunt, My Love Ch. 01

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I had been at Aunty Pat’s place for no more than two days when I found it. Aunty Pat was my mother’s younger sister, she was only 40 – I say “only 40” because I’ve always been an older woman sort of bloke. I’m 20 and to me 40 is the sort of age of I aspire to, by no means past it, but definitely still able to emote that sort of earthy, sexual drive. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?

Sorry, I spoke about “it”. Well Aunty Pat had been out, off to the outdoor market, or somewhere, and she said she’d be gone for an hour. And no, she didn’t come back early and catch me sniffing her knickers, so don’t think ahead too much.

I had, of course, walked into her bedroom, but I guess that part was obvious, eh? I was naked, and my seven-inch prick was full of anticipation. The place was bathed in sunlight, a wonderful warm Spanish afternoon. I was there for a month’s holiday from London and being only 18 and on my first trip outside England I was full of curiosity. A pathetic excuse for delving through her knickers drawer, eh?

Anyway, I found all these satin bras and panties, playsuits, I think they’re called, thongs, g-strings, bustieres, you name it, Aunty Pat had it. It was obviously all clean, so there was no need to try sniffing it, so forget that, OK?

But at the bottom, my fingers found a couple of large brown envelopes, big buggers, full of something. I dragged them out and lay back on her bed. I pulled the first one to my side and dragged out a brochure.

Now I’m no expert, but I guess it was in what book collectors describe as “pristine condition”, when they’re trying to put an exorbitant price on a first edition book. This thing – titled “For the fuller figured woman” – looked as if it had never been opened. It was like I was the first person to ever cast eyes on it!

In it I found a lot of pictures of women I’d always creamed my jeans to, if you’ll pardon the expression. Large blondes, large brunettes, large black women – OK, large, all right?

Among the brunettes was my lovely Aunty Pat. She’s about 5 foot 8 inches, with splendid, light brown hair, bit tits, big arse, but shapely. You know. She was one of the majorly featured models in the brochure, and in some of the pictures she was even topless! Big breasts – they’re 40 DD cup now – and about 38s when she was photographed, I guessed.

I sat back on her bed, stroking myself, just immersed in the catalogue – and no, she didn’t walk in on me, so stopping getting ahead of the story. Then I put the catalogue back in the big brown envelope, and pulled out the next item in the collection, so to speak.

This was one of those skin magazines, obviously English since all the prices were in pounds sterling. The centrefold was a nice looking little blonde, but too small and too young to interest me – as I said, mature is the way I go.

I found what I was looking for half-way between Miss Fuck of the Month, or whatever she was called, and the raunchy “Call Mistress Filthy Mouth for Your Whipping” ads at the back of the book. There, in about a six-page spread, was Aunty Pat in a pictorial spread entitled “Plenty to like about Pat”. Fucking good title!

And it was even more horn-inducing than the lingerie catalogue! Pictures of aunty in garter belts, stockings high heels and nothing else, competed with shots of her in a PVC open-fronted playsuit which displayed her lush breasts and her hairy snatch! I was, I have to confess, in love.

The other contents of the envelope were glossy pictures, obviously taken from the magazine shoot, which I guessed the photographer had gifted to my aunty as mementos of a memorable photographic session, or possibly something even more sexy!

The second envelope was of a much “harder” nature, copies of a magazine which obviously catered for people who are into “strict” ladies, who fuck around with whips, paddles and floggers. Apart from the fact that Aunty Pat featured in some of the spreads with her booted feet on some naked male slaves, and that she was wearing really sexy leather or PVC gear, they did nothing for me. Men who like to get taken to by women with whips are fucking weird, if you ask me,

And that was it. No aunty barging in on me demanding “And just what do you think you’re doing, you wicked boy?” type crap. I simply put the envelopes back in the bottom of the drawer, smoothed out the duvet on her large bed, and went back to my bedroom to enjoy a nice long, slow wank until she returned and I helped her unload the boxes full of tasty Spanish food goodies.

The next morning, I went down to the large kitchen in her beautifully-appointed split-level home, and kissed her on the cheek as she prepared breakfast. I wore only a tight-fitting pair of Speedos, because aunty said I was allowed to and because it was the height of the Spanish summer. And anyway, I think she liked my very well muscled young figure, very toned and tanned, with my jet black, almost shoulder length hair. A lot of people accuse me of looking like a poof with hair that long, but a lot of older bakırköy escort women go for it, take my word on that!

Aunty Pat was in a shiny satin sort of housecoat, that came down to just below her knees, but with a broad black belt tightly drawn around her waist, and it bunched the material so her lush, full breasts were straining into the thing. Made me sit down at the table before my interest became too fucking obvious, I can tell you.

“Hi Tony, sleep well, my dear?” she asked as she placed a plate of eggs, sausages, hash browns and bacon in front of me alongside a huge mug of steaming hot black coffee. And as she did I couldn’t help but notice the large upper mounds of her beautiful boobs come into view as she leaned over.

She then collected her plate and came and sit next to me on the couchette, playfully ordered “Move over, Mr Fat Arse”, as she did so, which was her just being silly, of course, because I’m quite skinny.

We munched away on the filling fried breakfast, and I was dapping my napkin against my lips when Aunty Pat hit me with it. I think it’s termed “going for the jugular”.

“And tell me, my dear Tony, what did you think of my little picture collection?”

OK, I was, as they say in the classics, gobsmacked! I even tried to bluster my way out of it. “Sorry, aunty,” I stammered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pathetic. Fucking pathetic. And useless. Fucking useless.

Aunty Pat smiled at me, not in a condescending way, but a sort of “Don’t fuck with me, sonny” smile.

“Well, Tony,” she grinned, “if it wasn’t you going through my magazine and catalogues from my knicker drawer yesterday, it must have been a burglar, or the legendary Mr Nobody.

“And since all the televisions are still here, my jewellery is intact, the sound system and all my CDs are untouched, then I guess that just leaves Mr Nobody. Or you, Tony, eh?”

I nodded my head, and must have looked shamefaced, because she put an aunt-like arm around my bare shoulders.

“How did you know?” I asked.

Aunty Pat smiled. “Simple, you silly young man, because I put a couple of hairs across the space between the top of the drawer and the upper ledge of the furniture, something I learned from a spy book. That’s how I knew how the drawer had been opened.

“And I arranged two thongs on the envelopes, with the crotches pointing towards the front of the drawer.

“When I got back from shopping yesterday, the hairs were no longer there and the thongs had obviously been moved. So it was either you, the non-existent burglar, or the famous Mr Nobody. I had you at the top of my list, I’m afraid.”

“I’m so sorry, aunty,” I muttered. “It was very rude of me and it won’t happen again.”

“That’s a pity,” said Aunty Pat, in a very slow, deliberate kind of way.

I looked at her in puzzlement. “How do you mean, aunty?” I asked, as calmly as I could, but sensing a thumping which was going on. Not my heart, a foot or so further down!

“Well,” she said, dragging the word out, “I thought it would be nice if you showed me some of my pictures and then pick your favourites.

“Then, if you’re very, very good, maybe I can model some of them for you – I got to keep quite a lot of the lingerie from my modelling days, some of it has hardly been worn.”

Now my cock was thumping even harder in my shiny little Speedos. Aunty got up a walked to the large-range stove in her hugely expensive kitchen and poured herself another mug of coffee. Then she turned and stared at me with one of those looks which really says “Are you man enough?”

Of course, I should have said that the whole thing had gone far enough, but I didn’t. She may have been mother’s sister, but she was a large, lusty-looking woman and I wanted desperately to see her modelling lingerie for me. It would lead to nothing, just a lingerie show, I told myself.

“Er, that would, oh it would be wonderful, aunty,” I said, feeling all shy and tongue-tied.

“Then get upstairs to my bedroom, get the envelopes out from my drawer and be waiting on the bed. Oh, and Tony.”

I was sliding out from my seat, trying to hide my obvious arousal. “Yes, aunty?” I asked, desperate not to reveal my hard-on.

“Take those lovely little Speedos off. I’m a mature woman and I’ve seen plenty of young men’s cocks. Anyway, you look most uncomfortable with that thing the size of Mt Blanc trying to break through your pants.”

I bolted upstairs, dashed into aunty’s bedroom, dragged the envelopes from their hiding place and was naked on my back, with a seven-inch hard-on pointing to the ceiling when aunty walked in.

“That’s nice, darling,” she smiled, as she shut the door behind her. “Six and a half, seven?”

“Seven, aunty,” I told her.

“Very pretty,” she commented, then sat beside me on the bed, arranged a pile of pillows so we could sit up and smiled: “Where do you want to start?”

“Er, the fuller figured catalogue, please, aunty,” I asked, and başakşehir escort we leafed through it. For a while she indicated that “No”, she did not have those particular items, but when my quavering finger pointed to a black bra, panty and garter belt set, she smiled.

“Ah, the retro look, still very popular with young studs today,” she grinned. “And yes, I’ve got that. You wait there and I’ll go find it.”

Aunty climbed from the bed and walked into her wardrobe, which was more of a room adjoining the bedroom. I stroked myself, my cock dripping sex juice drool as I waited for her return.

Then she was back and I swallowed and gulped. She looked absolutely stunning! The brassiere was made of shiny satin and it lifted her big 40-inchers into uplift so mouth-watering I almost felt myself drooling from the mouth as well as the cock.

Her knickers were also shiny, and gleamed where they were stretched across her quim, which looked full and lush. Her garter belt was also black and shiny, and it held up sheer black stockings. On her feet she wore black high heels.

She paced up and down at the foot of the bed, giving me a display of such arousing eroticism that I was hardly aware of my masturbation. She was, though!

“Slow down the stroking, Tony,” she warned, “or you’ll be coming way too soon!”

My hand fell from cock as if it had been electrocuted.

Aunty then walked around to the side of the bed and looked down at me, a confident smile on her face. “This bra does wonders for my old boobs,” she said. “Here, feel how well it cups them.”

And she leaned over and allowed me to place a pair of trembling hands on the bra cups. The electricity that flowed from her big bazookas was a surging flow, which seemed to go directly through my fingers, down my arm and through my upper body to my cock! I immediately felt harder and thicker down there.

“And my panties cover my rather full-figured bum – feel how they support my cheeks, Tony,” she said, and even though I was aroused to beat the band I couldn’t help but notice the excitement now throbbing through her voice.

My hands moved from the wonderful delights of her breasts down to the equally wonderful delights of her arse. It was broad, but not huge, big enough to provide me with a good handful. The buttocks were firm and taut, due to the fact that she was half bending over me.

Then her mouth grazed against mine and she laughed: “Enough of the retro look. Find another outfit.”

I decided to cut straight to the chase and went to the girlie magazine and her six-page spread. With a hand now shaking like a leaf, I pointed to the PVC playsuit, which revealed her glorious breasts and her hirsute snatch.

“Oh, darling,” she laughed, “one of my favourites. I love that outfit because you can have fun without having to take it off, if you follow me.

“There’s only one snag – I modelled that when I was in my sleek 38-25-36 days. I’m afraid I’m now a rather more cuddly 40-27-38, so I don’t know if I’ll still get into it. But we can try, eh?”

I nodded eagerly. “Your figure is even better now, aunty,” I said, enthusiastically. “Please try.”

I lay back, both heart and cock now pounding and then she was back. Now I don’t think it’s possible to have a hands free ejaculation when the cock is touching nothing. But if it is, then it can only be caused by the sight of a mature, large-breasted, woman wearing a shiny black PVC playsuit.

Aunty was ravishing. Her bare breasts almost pointing their twin peaks at me, the nipples brown and erect. Her pussy was, unlike in the girlie mag pictures, semi-shaved and I gazed at it.

“Oh, my pussy,” she said, seeing me staring. “I had a boy friend who liked me to adopt the Brazilian style, but since we broke up I’ve gone for the half-and-half look. Do you like it?”

And with that, she put a high-heeled shoe up on the bed, displaying her snatch to my hungry eyes. There was a little tuft of light brown hair on her mons, and she had shaved back the rest of her thatch around her lush pussy lips, leaving two trails of shaved hair in a crewcut around her piss flaps.

“It’s fucking glorious,” I stammered, earning a rebuke from my aunty.

“Really, Tony,” she said, in mock annoyance, “please don’t use that filthy language in front of me.”

Then she paraded around the room, displaying herself in the sexy outfit. The black PVC shone brilliantly, stretched tautly as it was across her torso, the lace-up front tight and straining from where she had filled out since modelling it.

Once, when parading along the side of the bed, she turned her back on me, displaying her buttocks, then slowly and provocatively, she bent over giving me a long look at her sex trench and her lovely brown puckered anus.

“See what I mean about being able to have fun while still wearing it, Tony?” she asked, from that revealing pose.

“Yes, I see exactly what you mean, aunty,” I gulped, noticing that her sex was glistening.

Then bebek escort she turned and asked: “Would you like to check out the way this playsuit supports my poor old boobs, darling?”

Of course I would! My hands cupped her big, heavy breasts, at first just lifting them from the undersides. Then I lifted my palms higher and took her firm nipples in between my thumbs and forefingers and squeezed them ever so gently.

Aunty gave out a little gasp, then I heard her kick off her shoes. With a push, she pressed me back onto the bed and then she was on top of me, her mouth hungrily eating mine, our tongues intertwining and exchanging fluid. My hands grasped her lush buttocks and I traced a forefinger onto her anus. I’m sorry, I had to!

Then I was telling her things I shouldn’t have told her. Things like “I love you, aunty, you’re my vision of perfection, I love mature women, I love big women, you’re so, so perfect” and all the while we were kissing and eating other’s mouths.

Aunty’s semi-shaved snatch was boring onto my stiffness and my brain was sending out signals reading “Don’t, don’t” but my cock was sending out more signals: “Do, do.”

Just then she lifted herself and placed her full breasts to my face. I sucked on one nipple and felt its hardness in my mouth, then she dragged herself across and placed the other breast down onto my lips, and there was another stiff nipple to suck on. As she was doing this, aunty was graunching her pubic bone along the length of my shaft, groaning as she did so.

Then, in a move which belied her large frame, she moved lithely onto her back and was pulling me onto her lush figure. “Now, Tony,” she whispered in my ear, “now!” It wasn’t a request, it was a command.

Again my brain was telling me “No, Tony, no Tony, don’t” and again my prick was insisting “Yes, Tony, yes Tony, do” and, of course my prick won!

My cock touched the damp point of entry, my foreskin was tugged back as I felt my cock rising to push into her velvet, satiny cunt, then as resistance on my part faded I struck, thrusting and pointing up into her wetness. She felt fantastic!

I wasn’t a virgin, of course. There had been three women, one older than the other two, the older woman more experienced than others. They had, to use a motoring analogy, been like Morris Minors. Aunty Pat was a Rolls-Royce!

I ran my hands beneath her buttocks, cupping them and feeling her lovely large, lush figure moving, the PVC playsuit emitting little squeaks as it was pressed by my body lying on her. I drove up to the hilt. Then pulled down to the cunt lips, and she kissed me hungrily, eating my mouth as if she hadn’t had a man in months!

After a few more thrusts she grabbed my buttocks, and whispered: “I have to be on top to come, darling.” And with that she expertly flicked me onto my back, and then rose to provide me easy access to her fantastic full breasts.

“Suck my tits, they’re conduits to my clit, darling,” she demanded, and I licked on one nipple, then traced my tongue across her heavy, heaving mounds until I could take the opposite twin into my mouth. They were rich and thick with lust. And then, Aunty Pat was half laughing, half sobbing as she crashed into her orgasm, bucking and heaving on my sweaty body.

“Oh yeeeees, oh yeeeees,” she cried, then forgetting her earlier admonition about language she roared: “Fuck my cunt, fuck my cunt, fuck my cunt!”

Finally, she calmed down and lay on her back, smiling sweetly at me. I adjusted my foreskin back over my helmet and bent over to kiss her.

“You’ve done this before?” she asked, half in statement, half in question.

“Yes, aunty,” I replied, licking her perspiration covered upper lip, then kissing her full on the mouth. “Two young girls, one of whom just lay there, one who told me to hurry up because she was bored.”

“How disgraceful,” aunty tut tutted.

“And one 30-year-old who let me eat her pussy,” I added, trying not to sound like a complete beginner!

Aunty smiled, traced the fingers of one hand through her pussy lips and held the finger to my mouth. “Don’t lick, sniff, darling,” she said.

I did and the aroma was wonderful. Then she rubbed her fingers onto her large left nipple and whispered: “Now lick!”

The taste of the pussy juice on her nipple was astounding, I thought I’d faint, it was so sensational.

“Now,” she said, sounding much more businesslike, “we need to look after you. How do you like to come? I know – ever enjoyed a tit fuck?”

I must have gaped at her. “Don’t look so surprised, sweety,” she smiled, “it’s something a lot of men like to have with a fuller figured lady. Want to try?”

I moved instantly on top of her and lay with my cock between the two large mounds. I then supported myself on my fists and stretched my arms out straight. Aunty cupped her beautiful titties and the mounds came closer together, trapping my cock between them.

Then I moved my cock up towards her chin. The friction dragged on my foreskin, pulling it back from the helmet almost to the ring, before I began a downwards stroke, which allowed the foreskin to surround my helmet again.

“I love the way your foreskin goes back and forth, it’s exciting,” said Aunty Pat, as I thrust up and down between the mighty twin peaks of pulchritude.

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