A Helping Hand

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We hardly ever speak. Probably not for over two years. My brother, that is. But then, one Sunday morning he rings to ask a favour. I am intrigued. He has a eighteen year old son doing “A” levels – maths, physics and economics – apparently. Stuart is his name. I think hard to remember him. My brother’s marriage only lasted two years – I think Stuart was to blame for the marriage, if you get what I mean.

Well, Stuart is looking to go to university. Not far from where I live is the University of the West of England or UWE or You-eee as it’s pronounced around here. He wants me to put him up for two nights while he visits the university. I think about protesting. But my kind heart (and not to mention my curiosity) got the better of me and the next thing we were arranging dates, pick-ups and swapping mobiles.

He came on a Thursday in early December. I met him from the train station – Bristol Parkway. Not the nicest way to arrive in the city on a cold, damp and dark night. He arrived at about 7.30 in the evening and I bundled him and his single bag into my little car and we set off for the short trip. His first words are to thank me for my hospitality. I can see some of my brother in him. He is lean, fit and looks quite cute. And when he smiles, he will melt a few hearts

Despite the early warning phone call, my preparations are, as usual non-existent. Food supplies in the house would barely feed a mouse so my first suggestion is to tear round to our local Chinese. He smiles at my suggestion and I decide that we should eat out. The restaurant is ok. It’s by a pub and not too far. We reach it without any problem and scuttle inside as the rain starts to fall.

We get a nice secluded table and we order from the “set meals” – making selection easy. I can now take a close look at my nephew. He is about 5ft 6. Light brown, sandy hair, cut in a neat and tidy style. Better than most students who look like they are groomed by sheep shearers. He is dressed well. A nice casual shirt is covered with a well cut jacket. And his smile. He ladles on the charm like our slender Chinese waitress doles out the fried rice. We talk about his father and I tell him some of the things that we did as children betist giriş (leaving out some of the more interesting stuff). I wonder what information his father will have shared with him!

We finish the meal and order coffees. Our conversation has moved on through what I do for a living (he seems overly interested in the bikini lines) and I gently probe his own story. He keeps me amused with him tales. I take some delight that he seems to find my cleavage as interesting as the bikini lines. Eventually we go, and I drive back to my house.

It is late. Well past ten when we open the door and crash onto the sofa. I give him a quick tour, explaining that his ‘bedroom’ is now my studio and that he will have to crash on the sofa. He doesn’t seem fazed by this and we decide on a night cap. I have only had a couple of glasses of wine – he had a beer in the restaurant. He seems delighted with my offer of a brandy and I pour two over-generous glasses. Our conversation continues and I get some old videos I have of my brother and I, originally shot on cine film. We laugh at lot at the sight of the two kids, playing in the back garden of our parents’ home so long ago.

I woke up a couple of hours later. The warmth of the house and the drink had probably done for me …and for Stuart who is also asleep on the sofa. I tried to make him comfortable but without much success and I stumbled to bed, leaving him asleep, softly breathing.

For the second time I awoke with a start. I heard a noise and was immediately terrified. I knew there had been burglaries locally, some with violence. Then I remembered Stuart. Another crash made me jump. I got out of bed and found him, half awake, in the total darkness in the bathroom.

‘Are you ok?’ I asked.

‘Yea.’ He replied. ‘I needed to pee and was trying not to wake you. I dropped this.’

He pointed to a bottle of some sort, now laying in the bath with the liquid starting to dribble from the top. Nothing important. I righted it and turned to him. He was undressed. Well partially. He wore his boxer short and nothing else. He was also frozen.

‘My God. You are freezing!’ I exclaimed, rubbing my hand down his goose-bumped betist yeni giriş arm. ‘Come with me’ I said, taking his hand and taking him to my bed.

‘Get yourself warm in here’ I told him and he slipped in beside me. I could feel his arms were like ice and I felt bad about his condition, thinking I had been a poor host. I pulled him to me, wrapping my arms around him, giving him some of my body heat.

‘is that better?’ I asked after a few minutes. He seemed to be warming up. I also felt the stirrings from within his boxers. Embarrassed, he tried to move.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Jacqui’ he said.

I laughed quietly. ‘Why are you sorry?’ I asked.

‘Because I have a hard-on’ he answered, somewhat sheepishly.

‘And why should that bother me? It would be worse if you didn’t find me attractive and didn’t get a hard-on, wouldn’t it?’

He nodded, understanding that I found his reaction flattering. I could feel his cock against the top of my leg. ‘I don’t mind if you want some relief.’

He seemed unsure of what I meant. ‘if you want to jack off, go ahead.’ I said.

‘Are you sure?’ he said.

‘Of course. But don’t tell your dad.’

His hand went down to grasp his cock and I closed my eyes, as he started to work his hands up and down his shaft. Perhaps it was my presence, but he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I wondered what to do. He was laying on his back, his left hand working on his cock. I took his other hand and put it under my t-shirt on my breast. He fondled me, exciting my nipples until they were firm.

‘Does that feel nice?’ I asked.

He made no reply but I could sense that he was getting more aroused. And so was I. I pulled off my t-shirt letting his see my breasts, and my hand joined his on his cock. I started to pump my hand up and down. He was quite dry – either he had produced no pre-cum or he had worked it all off – and I could tell it was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I thought about some lube but instead lowered my head and started to lick him around his cock head. After I had explored his helmet, I opened my lips and took him fully down into my mouth and throat.

He was a betist güvenilirmi nice length for a deep throat – about 7 or 8 inches, and I enjoyed sucking him. After a few minutes I licked down his length, following the contours of his blue veins down to his hairy balls which I licked and sucked into my mouth.

When I returned his cock to my mouth he lay back and ejaculated his load into my mouth. A full load, which I struggled to contain, exploded in my mouth and I allowed his hot white salty cream to dribble down my chin. His cock started to soften and I moved up his chest and we kissed.

‘Fuck!’ was all he could say, as he panted deeply.

‘We can do that as well!’ I smiled.

As we kissed his hands explored my breasts and I urgently ordered him to lick my nipples. He seemed quite adept and soon had me very excited.

After a while he lifted his head and asked me

‘Can I lick you out?’

I almost broke his neck as I pushed his head down to between my legs. He kissed my belly, then my inner thighs, making my pussy even wetter. He gently pulled down my panties and I could see him smile as he got his first look at my shaved pussy. He buried his head between thighs and started to lick me. His tongue seared my sensitive lips and vulva as he licked me hard. His fingers were buried deep within my wet cunt and his tongue started to circle my clit. He started to fuck me hard with two fingers and I was in heaven. When he sucked my whole clit into his mouth and flicked it back and forth with his tongue I came. Again and again.

When I could stand his touch no longer I pulled him back to me and we lay kissing in each others arms. I licked his face – covered with my musky juices.

‘We’d better get some sleep.’ I suggested, but his cock was already restored to its former size and he whispered in my ear

‘I thought you wanted to fuck?’

Well who could resist such an offer? I insisted on going on top and I rode him till he filled me with his wonderful young sperm, and I enjoyed another series of deep, blissful orgasms.

We finally did sleep and he became my hero when he woke me at 9 the next morning with a mug of steaming hot tea. He said how lovely I looked, how good my body was, and what a good fuck I was. He was so nice, I lay him back down, and taking a mouthful of hot tea first I gave him a hot blowjob.

I know some people like Corn Flakes, some toast but sperm is by far my favourite breakfast!

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