Aunt in Bikini - Sex Stories

Aunt in Bikini

... gasped, palms sliding over the woman's thighs. "You're gorgeous, Aunt Jean. Please," I begged, desperation making me bold. I was going crazy with yearning for her. "Carl," hissed Jean, her eyes wide with shock. "You shouldn't do that. You can't touch me. For God's sake, Carl!" But I was insane. At that moment I was gripped by dark urges so powerful I didn't have the strength to deny them. My lust was all-consuming. I couldn't see beyond the immediate. It was all about the texture of Jean's skin under my palms, the heat of, her, her scent and the wonder of how she would taste. If only I could lick her. My fingers dug into tender flesh, my intention to get her legs open so I could yank her underwear aside and lap at her sex. "Carl..." Jean gasped. "You shouldn't... "Carl, please, you can't touch me like that." Something pierced the carapace of that insanity: the tone of my aunt's voice or the realisation I was forcing myself on her shattered the craziness, I'm still not sure. I flung myself away, staring at my aunt while she sucked in deep breaths, her eyes locked on my face, her mouth an O of surprise. We stayed like that for half-a-minute or more: two wrestlers between rounds. "Aunt Jean," I moaned, leaning forward, head in my hands, my life spiralling away. I saw a cold, bleak future as a pariah ahead of me. I would be the one cast out by the f****y, my name never mentioned. "Oh, God, Aunt Jean ... I'm so sorry." "It's okay, Carl," my aunt crooned, her hand soothing on the ...

... back of my head as she stroked my hair. "You got carried away. I can understand that, honey. Things got a bit mad. But the important thing is you stopped it. Don't worry. It'll be all right. I'm not angry, Carl. You just surprised me; that's all." My aunt rose to her feet. I blinked and stared up at her. I was helpless. "Another beer?" she asked, calm as you like. I don't know about you, but I could do with another drink..." She left me sitting there, my head awhirl, emotions shot, my cock slackening. It only seemed like Jean was away for a few seconds. Then she was back, walking to me and thrusting another can into my hand before the sofa slumped beneath her weight. Jean collapsed into the seat next to me, holding the long-stemmed goblet aloft, her legs crossed once more. But what I noticed about her positioning was that she was turned towards me, sitting with her legs crossed, a subtle reversal to her previous attitude. "So," my aunt began. "Where were we?" She sipped her drink and then rested her head on one fist, her elbow against the sofa. I had no clue as to a proper response since my mind was still busy with what had happened and her calm attitude. So I kept quiet. Jean shifted her rump, eyebrows arching, her eyes wide, questioning. The look she gave me goaded me into an insipid reply. "Aunt Jean," I mumbled. "I'm sorry. I ... It..." Damn but didn't she just look so fucking lovely sitting there with her legs on display, those big tits beneath that blouse. She was all ...