Ron Taylor - Naughty aunt Susan

"Lilly," I whispered into the darkness, "Lilly!"

I don't know if I heard her ghostly answer. Part of me throbbed in delight at the very syllables of her name seeping from my lips, and I could almost swear, for only a thrilling moment, that I heard her husky voice reply, "Pam."

She meant so much to me, more than any of the guys ever had or ever would. Why should I keep on, spreading my thighs for almost any guy who asked, when I could have Lilly? She didn't take me for granted. She loved me. Even when I was at my bitchiest and most disagreeable. Still Lilly would take me in her arms and hug me and kiss me and feel my tits, and the bitchy impulses would fade like a morning mist and in a trice I'd be doing the same lovely things to her and both of us would be purring like cats in heat.

Maybe I was really a lesbian at heart. Lilly says all women are, that they love to touch other female flesh, to kiss it, to suck it, and that society's wrong for putting so many obstacles in their way. God knows she loved to touch and kiss and suck my flesh, and when she did that, I couldn't keep my hands and mouth off hers. Maybe it was fated to be this way.

Oh, I tried to reason with myself, who knows what she really needs or wants at this age? Chronologically I was still a kid. Wasn't it too early to be settling into the pattern that would determine the rest of my life? I was too young to be married on impulse; it should be too young to decide my sexual orientation, too.

I shoved the bottle-prick into my cunt with a frisky twitch, thinking of Aunt Sue's friend Lee Kinloch. Yesterday I'd been bound and determined to try him on for size. This evening I was ready to commit myself to life as a lesbian. I didn't know what I wanted, and I felt as if events were conspiring to corral me.

Pim-pam-pom! I battered the end of my cunt with the open end of the bottle, fast, hard, twisting stabs, and I felt my cunt quivering and gulping, as if it wished to swallow the bottle with a free good will. See, Pam, I reasoned. Even your body doesn't know what it wants yet. Let your head have a rest. Try to take it easy. Easy. Lee Kinloch could give it to me hard, I was positive. He looked like such a good lay, how could he help being one? Women must be after him like flies. With his looks he'd be cutting myself in the nuts if his bed technique were sloppy.

Oh, he was a definite! Maybe he could cure my growing disenchantment with guys. Bet anything his cock was long and hard and full of life, so much warmer than the cold glass I was using on my twat now. Maybe Kinloch would be the trick to turn the trick. I'd have to keep it covert, out of Aunt Susan's ken, but I had no doubt I could get his pants down and his pecker up. He was a man, all man I hoped with all my heart, and I was definitely all girl. Nature would do the rest.

My hands gripped the bottle savagely and I fucked my cunt with it feverishly. The insides of my pussy were red and raw again. I must be bloody as a freshly busted virgin inside, and I felt just about as sore. God, I'd be aching in the morning!

But right now I was aching, aching for my release, and the now is always more important than the later. If I paid for it tomorrow, I'd pay for it with a smile. Furiously I fucked myself, wanting only to relieve the gnawing hunger that lurked in my snatch.

Here – there – in – out – go, bottle, go! "Ah, you son of a bitch!" I told my glass lover in a thin squeaky voice.

My pussy muscles milked up and down the smooth, cunt-warmed, cunt-wettened shaft of the bottleneck. If it had been a cock, it would be squirting me like crazy right now, filling my cunt with hot jizz, but it was only a fucking bottle. It just lanced, still hard, still solid, till the flood of my orgasm made me so weak I could no longer maintain a grip on the bottle's bell and it sagged to the floor with a clink. My cunt was so greasy by now that it slid free of my gash, and I just lay on the cool floor mopping at the blood and cream on my beaver, asking myself how I'd ever been so shameless as to fuck myself with a Goddamned bottle.

You are a slut, Pamela Crosby, said my common sense, and the rest of me agreed thoroughly. I was a slut, a come-crazy slut. Decency had no place in my vocabulary, nor did morals nor respectability. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Bogart movie was over. How long over I didn't know. There wasn't even a test pattern on the TV, just a screen full of snow and a crackling static noise. I shut off the set, picked up the tissue-wrapped tampon, and placed it over my cunt so I wouldn't drip on the stair carpet. Goddamn it! I went back and got the bottle. I'd clean it off and take it to Lilly as a present. Maybe by the time I saw her again I'd have an answer for her invitation.

True to prediction, I awoke early next morning with an aching pussy. It was like an open wound between my legs and I had to massage it with both hands before I could even stand to get out of bed.

Aunt Susan was the slug – a-bed today, though, and I felt smug and happy when she entered the kitchen to find me already at work on breakfast. "The day's half-over," I told her in a country drawl. It was precisely nine o'clock.

We shared a leisurely meal – it was after ten before we finally rinsed our coffee cups and cleaned up the few dishes we'd dirtied. Aunt Sue went into her office to get a bit of work done, but only a bit. She was driving into Athens for a visit to the library again today, and this time I didn't turn down her invitation. I'd been out here since Saturday afternoon and already I was going stir-crazy. I needed life and people.

There wasn't much life on campus during the second summer term, and Aunt Sue had no trouble finding a good parking place for her car. We went into the library, and I excused myself as soon as we were inside, to visit the ladies'. Aunt Sue showed me where it was and pointed to the elevator. "I'll be on 7," she said.

I went to 7 and trotted through the stacks in search of her. She was between two large book stacks talking to a man. Lee Kinloch, of course. I went in to join them, my footfalls silenced by the floor carpeting, and neither of them knew I was there till I put my arm around Lee's shoulder and leaned in to say, "Hi, Aunt Sue. You're hard to find."

Putting my arm around Lee was an automatic, unthought gesture. He blocked my way in, and I had to lean past him to get Aunt Sue's attention, and I'm a very physical person, besides, I like to touch and be touched.

Lee's head turned at my laying-on of hand, and he smiled in greeting. So did Aunt Sue, but her face was brick-red and I couldn't believe tne ferocious gleam in her hazel eyes. Didn't she even know that she was giving me a hate-filled stare? Her voice was no traitor. It was calm and evenly modulated.

She was jealous! It struck me at once. Aunt Sue couldn't bear the sight of me touching her friend, even in so innocent a fashion. That confirmed my suspicions. She was hung on him, and with about as much chance of getting him as Nixon has for a comeback. Well, fuck her! I had my eye on Lee, too, remember, and if I couldn't get him, he couldn't be gotten. I didn't create her plain and dowdy and backward with men.

But I took my hand away all the same, as Lee stood aside to let me join them. They were talking about books and authors – why didn't she ever try to bring the subject around to dripping pussies, her own in particular? Or maybe Aunt Sue was so dried up her pussy didn't even drip these days.

"Look," I said, "how would it be if I took a walk? I saw a couple of boutiques and shops that looked interesting."

"Oh, fine," Aunt Sue replied, with eyes only for Lee, who had his eyes on me. "That would be a good idea. I'll probably be here for a couple of hours."

"Okay," I grinned. "Catch you later."