Aunt in Bikini - Sex Stories

Aunt in Bikini

... until the thing spat a heavy rain of semen over my mother's s****r. Imagine the furore if I'd knelt and grabbed two handfuls of those tits, my fingers yanking the cloth aside so I could suck her nipples. So I shrugged and blinked and stuttered, "I ... Uh ... Mum sent me over, Aunt Jean ... She ... Ah, that is..." I stumbled through the message, my face burning and my cock an insistent throb. My aunt nodded, giving no indication she noticed my discomfit. "Okay," she replied, rolling onto her back, supporting herself on her elbows and forearms. I could have groaned with sexual frustration as she lay there looking up at me. Her legs were straight out, her soft tummy concave with the rack of her brisket outlined clearly. But it was her breasts I couldn't stop staring at -- Jesus, they were so round and firm, not huge but a fair old size all the same. There was some more conversation, the detail of which is all hazy, and I was soon on my way. Albeit it with some reluctance I recall. With hindsight it was for the best, me leaving my aunt to her dishabille. It would only have ended badly if I'd had my way and stayed. I would have done or said something which would have ended in tears for sure. So, instead of blurting out I wanted to fuck my aunt, and instead of lunging for her and slobbering a kiss over her face, I went home, told my mother the gist of Jean's reply, went up to my bedroom, and wanked myself off while fantasising about my sexy aunt. After that I was always at Aunty ...

... Jean's house, using any pretext to be in her company. Just being near her would get me going. I'd get this little tickle in my stomach, a frisson of desire for the gorgeous woman. Watching her move, listening to her voice, her scent wafting along in her wake fired up such intense feeling of desire I don't know how I kept control -- the risk of a slap across the face most probably -- and I was always tugging my cock afterwards, fantasies of Jean in the nude getting me there in a rush of cum. Then, after a couple of weeks, something happened. It was the two of us in her kitchen. I was round there again, using any pretext to be in my aunt's company. She was wearing the denim skirt and gypsy blouse, the wedges on her feet. "I was just going shopping," she said to me, the evidence of her purse and shopping list on the table. "I could help," I replied, excitement at the prospect of Aunt Jean's skirt riding high on her thighs as we drove to Tesco mixing in my guts. As usual, my cock was hard in the woman's presence. I felt the tingle of desire and supressed the ever present urge to yank my hard-on. Jean gave me a funny look, eyeing me with an up and under, peering over her spectacles. She sighed and removed her glasses, placing them carefully on the table next to her purse. I got an immediate sense of foreboding. There was something off about my Aunt's demeanour. I looked at her but her eyes slid away from contact. "Carl," my aunt said, the tone of her voice sending a leaden sinker ...