Ron Taylor: The hot niece

"Do you have time to check me over? Before you go in to work, I mean?" I asked, helping Aunt Cheryl put away the breakfast dishes. I managed to bump her with my tits a couple of times and it was fun watching her pretend it hadn't happened. But she couldn't pretend very well. The second time my stiff nipples, so big and long and punchy under the clingy nylon top, brushed her bare arm, she dropped a coffee cup into the sink where it shattered into an easy fifty pieces. I hoped it wasn't one of her favorite cups, but something told me that in a short while she wouldn't mind, even if it were.

"Oh, I have time," she said, throatily, with a little effort. "We don't have morning hours on Friday, and I don't have to be there until one. I'll probably spend the afternoon sitting in an empty office. So – well, why don't we go up to my room? I have my equipment there, and it would be the easiest way."

Fine with me. I followed her up the stairs to her bedroom door, and I was doing a hell of a nice job of limping, going "Aaagghhh," now and then, as if each step I took killed me just a little bit more.

Well, I did feel a sort of strain in my thighs, and she'd hit the nail on the head; it was the horseback riding from yesterday. But it was nothing serious, just a cramp – just a pretext.

"Should I undress?" I asked, starting to pull off my top.

"It's not necessary," Aunt Cheryl replied, getting her black bag. She was wearing a short-sleeved white blouse, through which I could just make out the shape of her pink bra, and a pair of white slacks. Her costume looked very professional. Her hand clutched very tightly at the strap of her bag and her knuckles were pale white. I looked up at her eyes and there was no way she could mask what was in them. Not from me, not when I knew what to look for.

"Well," I said, "at least I'll have to take off my pants so you can get at the trouble zone, right?" And before she could say anything I had popped the button and the cutoffs just slid down my legs, leaving me bare from about three inches north of my navel all the way to my ankles. "It's right here," I added, touching myself at the joint of my hip and thigh, no more than half an inch from the eastern edge of my mat of soft golden pussy hair. "Ooohh," I added, "it hurts, too."

"Let me look," Aunt Cheryl said. She had a tan, but under that coat of gold her face was going pale white. She knelt, then said, "Here, sit on the edge of the bed. Okay. Now I'm going to touch you and you tell me where it hurts most."

She put her finger on the joint of my leg, on the outer edge, and I made a little mewing sound. Slowly her fingers, still pressing down, began to move across the rounded curve of my upper thigh, toward the place where I'd touched myself earlier. She moved slowly, almost reluctantly. I wanted to giggle, but I made myself stifle the urge.

"Oh, I can feel it more and more, you're getting closer," I said, "yes, I think – oooohhh!! – right there!" and I pushed her finger down upon my skin to emphasize it. This was starting to be fun.

"Let me see," she said, and I was always taught to be obliging to my elders, so I spread my legs wider. I saw Aunt Cheryl glance at my crotch. She couldn't have missed the flat of my pink pussy when my legs opened. There's not enough hair to cover my slit even when my legs are closely, virginally together, and right now I was spraddled almost far enough to make room between my accommodating thighs. My pussy was on display and the lips were showing, the little pink lips, protruding the way they do, like a small pink tongue showing in my slit. Which would you rather see? I asked her silently. My aching thigh or my itching twat? I saw her eyes move this way, then that, and I felt so Goddamned smug, knowing.

She tried, God love her, how she tried! To be professional, I mean. Ever since Kim had turned me on and opened up my eyes, I had known what was really pulsating inside Aunt Cheryl's heart, and the urges became stronger, less controllable.

"It hurts over here, too," I said, pointing to the other hip joint. Her eyes moved slowly, from the left to the right, and she spent what seemed a long time looking at my beaver before she reached out and gingerly touched my right thigh, in the place I'd indicated. Her fingers trembled as they came down onto my skin. I felt the hesitation, the frustration, as it coursed through her body. Something seemed to pop inside me.

"Oh, damn it," I said, and I reached down with both hands and lifted her face toward mine. "I know," I told her. "I know what you're thinking, what you're wondering about, what you want to do. I know why Uncle Bill has been getting the cold shoulder from you in bed. I know why you get all fluttery in the guts when I touch you or you touch me. Go ahead, Aunt Cheryl. I don't hurt anywhere. It was just a gimmick to get you up here, alone with me, to give you the chance to find out that I want it too. Touch me. Please. Not like a nurse. Touch me like a woman."

"Elizabeth," she said, hoarsely, and her eyes seemed to flip aver in their sockets. She shook her head, long brunette hair swishing around her face, and she started to get up. As she did, I caught her by the wrist and I pulled her hand into my crotch.

"No," she said, turning pale, then flushing. "No, I can't, you're just a child; you don't know what you're doing," but her fingers were in my bush then, and her nails scraped across the cleft of my sex. She felt my wetness, my slickness, and her eyes met mine and she was fucking hooked!

She kept on rising, but not far – only far enough that our mouths could come together. And when I kissed my aunt on her small, moist-lipped mouth, I learned things about kissing that not even Kim had taught me. Our lips connected, and Aunt Cheryl's hand closed on my cunt. She pushed me backward, onto the bed, mounting me where I lay, her all-too-willing victim. Victim? Was I, really? Hadn't I manipulated her into this whole thing? As she lay upon me, squeezing my twat and sucking my mouth, I began to wonder.

We rolled a little, and I lifted my bare legs and folded them around Aunt Cheryl. She oozed into my embrace. She was hot inside her dress whites, the energy of her body so obvious, so noticeable, so fiery against me that it scared me just a little. My tongue shot out, and she captured it in her mouth, sucked it with an expertise that left me thrilled and delighted at the same time. She made her hand tremble where it clutched my cunt. One of her fingers lay along the line of my slice, slipping in and out of my vulva as her hand flexed. There was this incredible sensation at my clit. I had planned to seduce Aunt Cheryl, to confront her with the lesbian, passion she obviously had for me, but things had slipped out of my control. During the past few minutes, she lay atop me, and in spite of her bra and white blouse, I was more than slightly aware that her nipples were firm and taut at the caps of her breasts. I clenched my legs around her, moaned into her wet, sweet-tasting mouth, and slowly she rolled off me, until we were lying side by side on the bed. Her hand was still on my pussy and our faces were separated no more than a couple of inches. Both of us were panting – hard. My face was as flushed as hers.

"How did you know?" she asked. Her hand flexed on my pussy.

I couldn't help moaning. Her finger eased into me, a slender, delicate finger, stronger and longer than Kim's. More knowing? Sexier? I wasn't sure. Who could make comparisons at a time like this? My pussy was wet where she entered me, and I felt her finger give a tentative wiggle inside me.

"How did you guess?"

"You're easy to read," I sighed, stroking her face. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, you know? Uncle Bill told me you had turned off in bed…" her eyes got big and she drew back. For a moment her finger ceased its jiggle-wiggle in my twat. I reached down, stroked her arm and got her working again – "…yes, he told me. And, well, I've been helping him the last couple of days. You know what I mean? A fuck on the sofa, a blowjob in the print shop, and last night I let him bugger mein my bedroom. Well, don't look so shocked, Aunt Cheryl! Somebody had to help him! He's too much man to let waste, and you know that as well as I do! But yesterday everything started making sense to me – about you, I mean. I started reading your eyes and your body, and I knew what was on your mind, even if you couldn't bring yourself to show it. I turn you on, don't I? God, listen to me asking, while your finger does that kinky little trick in my pussy! Do you like my pussy? Is it tight and sweet? I know it's hot, and I know that a lot of people like it, but what about you? Tell me."