Living with Great Aunt Helen Ch. 02

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Living with Great Aunt Helen — Chapter 2

Chapter 1 described how Peter began an intensely sexual relationship with his maternal great aunt, Helen, after moving in with her while he completed a master’s degree. At the end of the chapter his mother discovers the true nature of Peter and Helen’s relationship. This chapter follows on directly from Chapter 1 and describes what happened next. Comments etc always welcome.

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After mum had gone I agonised for a time about whether I should mention to Aunt Helen that her niece knew all about our sexual shenanigans; I was certain that mum would say nothing so in the end I decided to keep schtum. I’d just come to this decision when there was the sound of a key in the front door. I was still feeling horny as hell and I imagined I could still feel my mother’s quick goodbye-kiss on my lips and hear her parting shot — “Lucky old Helen, I say”. What did she mean by that, if it wasn’t the obvious? I was confused, partly because I’d never remotely fancied my mother. She was, and is, a wonderful person and a great parent, but she’s thin and rather flat-chested and what looks she might once have had have mostly faded with time and with living with my dad, who’s a bit of an inconsiderate pig and expects to be waited on hand and foot by his wife. I don’t know why she stays with him, unless it’s just misplaced loyalty. But getting back to the point, the little exchange with my mother after she found out about Helen and me had stirred something inside. I was definitely aroused.

My great aunt came into the kitchen, where I was sitting at the table, took her coat off and put her handbag down on a chair. I got up and went round the table and embraced her and kissed her on the lips.

‘Goodness,’ she smiled, ‘have I been away that long?’

Resisting the urge to drag her upstairs, or just fuck her over the kitchen table, I asked how the book club meeting had gone.

‘Well it was alright until that wretched woman from the Post Office started blethering about the book of the week as though it was some seminal work of literature. It’s nothing more than a modern-day bodice ripper!’ I laughed. Aunt Helen could be cuttingly funny about the other book club members and their contributions. The only one she seemed to have any respect for was the chairwoman; she’d invited her around for dinner a few months ago and she’d turned out to be an interesting and elegant lady a few years younger than my aunt. The dinner had been enjoyable and Deborah, the chairwoman, had suggested that we both come round to her house for dinner the next time, although nothing had been arranged yet.

I listened as Helen did a well-informed hatchet job on the book, although only about a third of my attention was on what she was saying. The other two thirds were imagining my aunt tied to the bedstead in her bedroom while I pleasured myself on her sixty-nine-year-old body. Kissing, licking, penetrating…

‘Sorry?’ I said.

‘I asked you if you’d had any lunch?’

‘No. Not yet. The truth is, darling, that I am aching to make love to you and I can’t think about anything else!’

My great aunt blushed, rather becomingly. ‘Well, an old girl like me shouldn’t turn down an offer like that. Would you like me to go upstairs and dress up for you?’

I kissed her again, this time sliding my tongue between her lips and she responded by opening her mouth and working her lips against mine. I pressed her back against the fridge-freezer, my erection nudging into her crotch. She gripped me tightly and we kissed hard for a minute.

‘You really do want me don’t you!’ gasped Aunt Helen, breaking the kiss for some air. ‘How very flattering.’ She pushed me gently away and headed for the stairs. ‘Give me twenty minutes, darling.’

I wandered around the ground floor for the allotted time then made my way up the stairs and into her bedroom at the far end of the landing. The curtains were drawn but there was still plenty of light in the room. My great aunt was sitting on a stool in front of her dressing table finishing off her make-up by applying bright-red lipstick. The room smelt faintly of solvent and I guessed she had removed her old nail varnish and applied a new coat. She was dressed only in black stockings, with thin seams, and a matching garter belt; she had long ago stopped being self-conscious about her appearance in front of me. Nor was there any reason why she should have been, Great Aunt Helen was gorgeous: pale-skinned, long-limbed and slim with well-defined hips and shapely legs. True, there were signs of her sixty-nine years: her breasts sagged and there were wrinkles on her upper arms and stomach and a tracery of fine blue veins on her thighs. But her breasts were still full and round with big nipples and she had a luxurious, thick, black bush of pubic hair, the same colour as that on her head.

As I watched, entranced, she finished her preparations and stood up, moving to the bed where she Nişantaşı Escort sat back against the piled-up pillows and spread her legs, sliding one of her slim hands, with its carmine-tipped fingers, over her breasts and down her stomach towards her crotch. This was a frequent part of our foreplay; Aunt Helen liked stroking her pussy for me and I liked to watch. Now I undressed and came and sat on the edge of the bed and watched as her long middle finger slid between her labia and emerged coated in her shiny secretions. She smiled at me and raised the finger to her nose, smelling her scent before sliding it into her mouth and sucking the juices off. As always at this display I was immensely aroused, rock hard and breathless.

We’d both come a long way in the three years since I’d moved in with my great aunt while I completed my doctorate in astrophysics at the local university. I’d been twenty-one and although I’d dated regularly as an undergraduate, I wasn’t the experienced and considerate lover that I was to become with my great aunt. But Helen had undergone a more profound change, from a lonely and isolated spinster, decades past her last relationship and with rather Victorian ideas about propriety, to this delicious, wanton lady on the bed before me, keen to experiment, savouring the eroticism and taboo nature of our joining, and with a lust for sex that still surprised me, sometimes.

Now she opened her legs wide for me. ‘Go down on me, darling,’ she said in a throaty whisper. I needed no second invitation. Kneeling between her stockinged legs I buried my face in her glorious, silky black bush, tonguing her labia, slurping up her juices, rubbing my face all over her pussy, smelling her scent, pushing three fingers into her cunt hole and finger-fucking her while I licked the little nub of her clitoris, peeping out of its protective hood. Helen squealed and moaned and gripped the pillows with her long fingers. ‘Oh God that’s so good. Oh Peter, make me come…’

As her climax started I took my sopping fingers out of her cunt and slid the middle one into her anus, right in, up to the knuckle, and she came with a scream, shaking her head wildly, spital flying from her lips. Before it was over I knelt up and penetrated her, my seven-inch erection sliding easily into her lubricated depths. Then we were kissing, and she was tasting her juices on my lips and chin and I was tasting her saliva and thrusting my dick in and out of her sex hole. She stared at me wildly as I pounded her cunt: ‘Tie me up, darling. Tie me up and have me!’

This was not an unusual request; Great Aunt Helen was supremely turned on by bondage and by being explored and fucked and pleasured whilst tied to the bedstead. In the early days of our relationship I had purchased a restraint system which we used regularly to tie her spreadeagled to the bed. Face up for conventional sex and face down when I took her in her anus. And it was her anus that I had in mind now.

‘Kneel up,’ I ordered, ‘facing the wall.’ She got up obediently and turned around, putting her hands on the top rail of the bedstead. She knew what was coming. I used a couple of Velcro straps to lash her wrists to the rail then sat back on my heels, regarding her.

‘What are you going to do to me?’ she asked quietly. It was part of the bondage game: obedience and subservience with a hint of anxiety. It bore no resemblance to our relationship outside the bedroom or indeed to when she wasn’t restrained.

‘You’ll see,’ I replied. Kneeling at right-angles to her I forced her head round to mine by pulling on her hair and kissed her savagely, my tongue forcing its way into her mouth, my lips mashed against hers. While I was doing this I stroked and squeezed her pendulous breasts, pinching the nipples until she squealed into my mouth. Then I was working my way south, one hand finding her pussy and penetrating her with a couple of fingers. My other hand sought her buttocks where I stroked the sagging orbs and ran my finger up her arse crack, finding and touching her anus. She shivered and I delivered a smart slap to her right bum cheek. Aunt Helen gasped and pulled against the wrist straps: ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she whispered breathlessly. I stroked her tingling flesh then smacked her again, harder, this time on the other buttock. She cried out and I stifled her noise by forcing my mouth against hers while I spanked her again, and again, three or four times to each cheek while she moaned and writhed against her restraints.

Then I was reaching for the tube of lubricating jelly that we kept in her bedside cabinet, taking the top off while Aunt Helen craned her head round to watch, squeezing a big gob of the viscous jelly onto my fingers.

‘Are you going to sodomise me?’ she asked in a tense whisper. Aunt Helen rarely used crude expletives, preferring a more formal language. She liked using this word, I think, because of its Pendik Escort old-fashioned feel and its ultra-taboo connotations, particularly when associated with incest.

I didn’t answer. Instead I smeared the jelly up between her bum cheeks and worked it slowly and gently into her anus using first one then two fingers. I added more lubricant and pushed my fingers into her rectum as far as they would go, feeling her sphincter tighten around them. She didn’t say anything, or make any noise, but her breathing had become fast and shallow and I knew she was very excited. She’d told me once that I’d “let the genie out of the bottle”, meaning that I’d unlocked her latent sensuality. This had been just before she fingered her own anus in front of me and just before I inserted a purple latex butt plug into her. After that anal play, including full anal intercourse, had become a regular and much-enjoyed part of our relationship. Helen had once confided in me that she liked “the feel of you inside my bottom almost as much as in my other hole”.

Which didn’t stop me taking things very slowly and considerately when penetrating her most private orifice. Now I smeared the residual lube that was on my fingers over my shaft and glans, which was almost throbbing with anticipation and lust. Then I was kneeling behind her and guiding my cock head to her anus. Entry could be awkward in this position and my great aunt sometimes had to guide my probing with “higher up” or “down a bit, darling”. Today my rigid prong found her little puckered rosebud straight away and I put my arm around her waist and pushed slowly, keeping up a light but firm traction.

‘It’s alright, darling,’ breathed Helen, ‘you can push harder.’ I obeyed and she gave a suppressed gasp as the purple engorged head opened her muscle ring and slid inside, partially closing around the thick shaft.

I inched in, savouring the feeling of penetrating my aunt so deeply in her anus, feeling the grip of her sphincter and the softness of her rectal wall enveloping my cock. Taking a breast in each hand I kneaded the soft flesh while my hips withdrew my penis a few inches and slid it back inside. I kissed her shoulders neck and she turned her head, seeking my mouth and I started thrusting harder into her arse, long strokes that stopped before my glans plopped out of her and then pushed until my pubic bone rammed against the base of her spine.

It felt like heaven. And I knew my aunt was enjoying it too. She was forcing herself back at me as I pushed into her and breathing in ragged gasps. I squeezed one of her nipples hard and she wailed in pain and pleasure and my other hand found her slit and started rubbing her clitoris with a firm up and down motion. Helen gave a strangled cry as her second orgasm crashed through her nervous system, her anus spasming around my cock as I drove into her. Then my orgasm was upon me, unstoppable and terrifyingly intense, and I was pumping my spunk into my great aunt’s arse and crushing her breast in my hand and kissing and biting her neck and telling her that I loved her.

When it was over I withdrew from her anus, very slowly, allowing the muscle to contract gently behind me. Leaving Helen strapped to the bedstead I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself thoroughly. I was still rock hard, and for a good reason. Back in the bedroom I released my aunt and she kissed me and nuzzled my neck and whispered in my ear, ‘Can I take you in my mouth now, please?’

It was her ultimate expression of submission, and an indication of how far she’d come down the path of debauchery. One day, after anal sex and after I’d washed my cock in the bathroom sink, she’d asked if she could suck my penis. It had been quite out of the blue and I had been a bit dubious at first but my cock was clean and so what the hell. Afterwards Helen said that the naughtiness of sucking something which had just been up her bottom was exquisite. I think if I’d taken my cock, fresh and warm straight from out of her arse and forced it into her mouth she’d still have sucked me off, but I wasn’t prepared to do that and she had certainly never suggested it.

Now she gently pushed me down onto the bed and straddled my torso, facing away from me. Her head dipped and I felt her hair ticking my stomach and thighs. Then I felt her hand on my penis and her lips slide over my cock head and start working up and down my shaft. Her backside was pointed at me and about six inches from my face and when I parted her buttocks I could see her pubic bush and her milk-chocolate brown anus, ringed by fine black hair. As I looked a bead of spunk trickled out of her sphincter, ran down her arse crack and dripped onto my chest. I was gasping with arousal. The feeling of her mouth enveloping me was superb and as I bent forward to try and tongue her rosebud, I felt a fingertip on my own anus and then she was pushing and the finger was going right in and I was Rus Escort thrusting my hips up to drive my cock deeper into her mouth and my balls were starting to tingle and then my second orgasm was upon me and I threw my head back and cried out loud and a dribble of spunk was oozing out of my cock and my great aunt was licking it up and pulling her finger out of my arse.

In the afterglow we held each other tightly and I felt an overwhelming sense of love for my elderly relation and the generosity with which she gave herself to her great nephew. Again I was tempted to tell her about mum’s visit but again I resisted the temptation and we fell asleep, waking an hour later as the mid-winter afternoon light was draining away.

The call from my mother one evening a few days later was a surprise. ‘Peter, I wonder if you’d mind coming over on Saturday or Sunday. There’s something I need to tell you.’

‘Can’t you tell me over the phone?’ I asked.

‘No, I… I can’t.’ Her voice was unsteady.

‘Are you ok, Mum?’

There was a pause and I thought I could hear her blowing her nose. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Right then, I’ll come over Saturday afternoon.’

‘Thank you.’

Back in the front room I told my aunt about the strange conversation. ‘She sounded really upset.’ Helen said nothing although I could tell from her expression that she had something to say. ‘Go on then,’ I said at last. ‘Spit it out.’

‘Well it’s obvious,’ she said, looking up at me from the settee. ‘She’s finally kicked your dad out.’

‘No way!’ I protested. ‘They’ll be together till one of them pops their clogs.’ But inside I wasn’t so sure. Aunt Helen didn’t pursue the topic and I felt uncomfortable with it so we resumed watching a detective drama and nothing more was said.

On Saturday morning I woke with a sense of unease, although it didn’t stop me making love to my great aunt before it was properly light outside. After lunch I threw an overnight bag into my car, just in case, and drove the forty-five miles to my parents’ house.

Except that it wasn’t my parents’ house anymore. Helen had been right. Mum had asked dad to leave and he’d packed up and gone and was living with a friend in Birmingham. Mum told me this as I sat in numbed silence in the living room of the four-bed detached home that I’d grown up in. She was sitting facing me in a single chair.

‘Your dad and I haven’t had any sort of a relationship for years,’ mum was saying. ‘We did our best to hide it until you and Suzie had left home but now Suzie’s gone I didn’t see the point.’

‘Does Suzie know?’ She was my elder sister by two years, though she’d stayed at home longer. Now she was living in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, too far away, apparently, to come and see her mother.

‘Yes, I told her over the phone the same night I phoned you. I asked her not to speak to you until you’d been round this weekend.’

‘So what now? ‘I asked.

‘Well there’ll be all the unpleasantness of a divorce but Trevor has said he won’t contest it and so it should be as painless as these things can be. After that, who knows?’

‘There isn’t someone else is there?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she replied, defensively. Then, ‘Would it bother you if there were? I am only fifty-two and I wasn’t planning on spending the rest of my life alone.’

‘No,’ I said, slowly, ‘it wouldn’t bother me, I don’t think. I do want you to be happy.’

She smiled at me and, as always, it lit up her face and made her look much prettier. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and her hair, shoulder-length and a deep chestnut brown, was in an untamed mess. Also she was dressed in a baggy jumper and jeans and I had a fleeting and unworthy thought that she might find it difficult to attract somebody to share her life.

To collect my thoughts I went into the kitchen and made us another mug of tea and we sat sipping in silence. There should have been so much to say but somehow I couldn’t think of anything.

‘So what about you and your great aunt?’ asked mum, a few minutes later. ‘Are you still enjoying each other’s sexual favours?’

I’d been bracing myself for something like this; it was typical of mum to deflect attention from her own woes. And thinking about it later I realised that she was probably intensely curious. I was intensely embarrassed but also, I had to admit to myself, a little turned on by the idea of discussing Helen and me with my mother — there was that tiny frisson of excitement again. But there were barriers to be overcome before I could tell mum anything about us.

‘Yes,’ I said, averting my eyes. ‘Everything’s good.’

‘And that’s it? Everything’s good? How about some salacious details?’

‘It’s embarrassing, Mum. And it’s private. What would Helen think?’

‘Oh, it’s “Helen” now is it? That’s cosy.’ I blushed deeply and mum laughed, the first time I’d heard her do that for a long time. ‘I’m sorry Peter, it’s naughty of me, but I am curious.’ She paused, looking at me. ‘Ok, here’s the deal: I take you out to that Italian restaurant where we went after your graduation and you tell me the lurid details about you and my aunt.’

I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tonight?’

‘If you can tear yourself away from a night’s carnality with “Helen”.

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