Ron Taylor: Naughty aunt Susan

Aunt Susan's cunt was so tight it amazed me. I wondered if she had ever been fucked, but my tongue could move into her hole without any impediment, so she was at the very least cherryless. Lots of girls break their hymens in off-the-job accidents, though, so it was no proof of anything. We could talk about it. Later.

I was like a woman possessed. The only thing that counted to me was doing a number on Aunt Susan's pussy and giving her a climax to remember for years to come. And, you know, the funny thing was that the harder I licked her gash the more aroused I became, too. I had my hand on her titty and she was holding that hand in place, but otherwise she wasn't providing me with any stimulation at all. And the crotch of my shorts was sopping wet, even with a borrowed tampon firmly inserted, and I could hear a squishing whenever my legs came together. It was a toss-up whether I could make Aunt Susan come before I exploded myself.

She moved her thighs as I lapped in her slit, moved them farther apart, and the slice of her cunt opened a bit more for my convenience. She seemed nervous, too, her thighs shaking as my tits rubbed them, but I couldn't blame her for being that way. It must have been a shock to be discovered in diddling by a visiting niece and promptly seduced, I suppose. It was a shock for me, too, when I realized that a perfectly adequate body had been hiding inside Aunt Susan's chintzy clothes all this time.

Physically she reminded me of Lilly, but Lilly's wispy cuteness was a far cry from Aunt Susan. Sue was tall and lean, like a clothes horse, and if only her face hadn't been so plain, she'd have had no need to lie alone in bed clutching her pussy on a warm summer's night. She should show off that body, Goddamn it! Plenty of people would be turned on by it, turned on enough to overlook the lack of raving beauty in her face. I was turned on, wasn't I? Don't I have at least some taste?

We'd discuss it. I'd bring her out of her shell. But first I had a job to do.

I lifted my head from her gash and skinned out of my halter. Thank God I was braless underneath. My nipples were long points of sensitivity, and I twiddled them with my hand, watching them get even longer, feeling them get even more sensitive. Then I knelt into my work again, rubbing my book on Aunt Susan's cunt. I slid each nipple up and down her gash, inserting each of them in turn into the glistening lushness of her pussy. It was a curious feeling. Belinda had done this to me a couple of times during the evening just past, and it was aroused me in a dreamy kind of way. Her nipples were long, like mine, and they wiggled inside me like tiny cocks. But the sensation of receiving a vaginal-nipple penetration couldn't compare with the delight of giving it. Susan's pussy seemed a tight, sucking mouth that wanted to gobble up my paps, and we bumped together joyously, each of us giggling and purring in our pleasure shared.

It could only go on for so long, though, until my mouth began to water for the pussy milk that flowed in ever-greater abundance, and I removed my tits from the field of battle and replaced them with my hungry, sucking mouth.

This time I didn't fuck around. I wanted to eat her cunt out, and I ate her cunt out, by God! I used my mouth and my fingers in sly conjunctions, prodding her with my middle finger while my tongue danced a jig on her supersensitive trigger, and before I knew she was doing it, Aunt Susan popped her cookies right into my face. She dripped, she oozed, she exuded a wet cunty aroma that tickled my lips and nostrils. It lingered on my lapping tongue, on my smacking mouth, and I had only to give my thighs a tiny squeezing pressure before I was gasping and moaning my own release into her splayed, churning hole and we lay writhing in a shared orgasm.

"Wasn't that better than doing it to yourself?" I asked her later, as we lay holding hands. She was naked, I was topless, and two of her fingers trailed now and then across the relaxed contours of my tits.

"I've never done anything like that before," she sighed. "No one has ever made me feel the way you made me feel." She kissed my cheek. "Pamela, I don't know how…"

"Oh, come off it," I grinned. "You don't have to pretend with me, Aunt Sue. You've led a pretty wild life. I didn't snoop, but I did happen to find your stash of porno books the other day. You know – the one about the girl and the gorilla. What was the name of it? SLUT FOR ALL SEASONS? No, it was O BEASTLY LUST. You must have been a real hell-raiser a few years ago."

She gave me a wry smile, a bitter smile, and it wrenched my heart to see it. "So my secret's out. The books, I meant. Oh, it won't hurt to tell you, Pam. You might understand."

She cleared her throat and her eyes left mine, as if she couldn't quite bear to look at me while she confessed. I was primed to hear some spicy stuff, but that wasn't to be.

"I was always an ugly girl, very shy, very withdrawn, and it didn't get better. I never had a date till I was twenty-three, Pam. In graduate school. I'd given up on life and love long since. Until a boy took an interest in me. It surprised the hell out of me, Pam, and I was walking on air. He was sweet, and we dated and talked, and finally I decided he really did care. For me. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?"

"So one evening I agreed to-to have sex with him. It was horrible. I bled, I screamed, I cried. He just laughed. Wondered if I mightn't suck his – because I was so terrible at the other thing, you know?" She struggled to compose herself. "He told me later that I'd stirred his curiosity, that dorm gossip said shy, quiet girls were better in bed, that they became real tigresses once they'd been laid out and opened up. It wasn't true, he said. I was a rotten lay, and either frigid or a latent lesbian. I never saw him again. The books. Well. I wrote them to get it out of my system. They were all about women abused and raped and ravaged, by Negroes, by whole platoons of Army men. I hope you don't read any more of them. I try not to think about them now."

She smiled bravely. "I suppose he was right. I suppose I really was a latent lesbian. When you kissed me, touched me…"

I'd been through this myself and had no intention of letting Aunt Sue get any gay bees in her bonnet. "Lee Kinloch?"

She got misty-eyed, and she collapsed against me. "Lee. I think I love him, Pam. Days I don't see him I'm not fit to live with. I dream about him every night. But what chance do I have? Look at me, for Christ's sake! I'm ugly…"

"Has he ever given any indication that he might be interested in you? Or are you just a bull-session buddy for him?"

"Oh, he's asked me to go out with him a few times. I always put him off. Just this evening he was telling me that tomorrow they're showing Top Hat and Shall We Dance at the university, and later some friends of his are having a party – but I told him I couldn't, that you weren't feeling well – I was afraid…"

"Maybe," I said. "Sit up straight, Aunt Susan." She did, and I took away her glasses and undid her bunned hair. You know, she wasn't half bad looking from the right angles. And right now she looked appealingly vulnerable, not at all the cool, collected Aunt Sue I'd met Saturday. Makeup was what she needed. And a rinse for the hair. The right clothes.

"Since you used me as an excuse, I'll call him and tell him you're free after all, if he's still interested. Don't say another word, Aunt Susan! If you want that man, I think I can get him for you. But you'll have to help, too."

"No, it's ridiculous. It won't work. He couldn't want me. You'll ruin everything."

"He's intelligent, and he's sexy. He already likes your mind. We just have to remind him that a body goes with it. He'll do the rest. Is his number in the book? Good. Oh, and I'll need the car first thing in the morning. We have all day to fix you up, and we can't waste any of it."