When she opens the door, I am surprised to see how much Aunt Anna has changed.
”Come in” she cries,” and hang your coats up over here”
My girlfriend enters the apartment first and the two women exchange a cordial hug and greetings. They have never met before and I am amused to see how they surreptitiously study each other. Aunt Anna turns to me and compliments me upon the beauty of my companion, chiding me for never having introduced her before. I protest that this would have been difficult as it is ten or more years since last I saw Aunt Anna and I have been working abroad for most of that time.
”Well you are here now” she replies as she leads the way into her living room where a low table is set with hot coffee, small cakes and other assorted condiments. I sit on the sofa with its gilt edges and lions legs and the two women sit on either side of me. Aunt Anna settles her plump posterior into her favourite chair which is set at a convenient angle allowing her to regard us both whilst keeping an eye on a window which affords her a view of the city’s central plaza. On the wall behind her, is a photographic portrait of Uncle Paul, her husband, now dead these past several years.
I have already warned my girlfriend to be on her best behaviour for Aunt Anna is wealthier than most and like most old people who have lived their lives with scant discomfort, she is highly opinionated. Today is no exception.
”So when are you going to get around to having c***dren?” she asks as she offers the coffee.
I leave this side of the conversation to my girl friend, offering little comment beyond the occasional affirmation or polite chuckle. It isn’t that I mind the topic, not at all, but rather that I am aware of Aunt Anna’s desire to influence younger members of the f****y towards that which she regards as ’good conduct’. I am also aware that she is a fantastic hypocrite.
Eventually the conversation turns to the marriage of my cousin Sofia, who is Aunt Anna’s youngest daughter, and as talk turns to the technical details of wedding dresses and other such pressing issues, I lean back into the expensive but uncomfortable sofa and fall to musing on the marriage of Aunt Anna’s oldest daughter Margethe. After the ceremony at the church, we had all driven to the house of the groom’s father where a lavish celebration was planned. The gardens had been decorated accordingly with large awnings set up and as the evening progressed and the guests grew ever more festive, the sun set slowly casting its warm yellow light across the nearby lake. I was alone that day, my girlfriend was still only a passing acquaintance and I had no one I cared to invite. I danced with several of my cousins, I drank and was merry, but I was restless as always. In those days I was seldom content to be content and I soon took to roaming the garden, deep in thought.
The sun had finally set and the warm darkness had descended when I eventually came to the old boat house which was nestled amongst a group of old oaks in a secluded corner of the property. The boat house was uncared for, its clinker built walls, green and peeling, whilst a great mass of nettles grew along side, black and menacing in the night. There was a path, but it ran a gauntlet of stinging leaves and I sauntered by indifferent to the lure of an old damp building, until I heard the laughing voices from within. I paused and lifted an ear but the only sounds I heard then were the distant sounds of the party, and even as I listened, there came the noise of the band returning to their stage after a short break. I would have left at that but suddenly I heard a soft female shriek followed by laughter.
Aunt Anna is enjoying herself. She has found a willing audience in my girlfriend who is following my advice, and the old lady is describing her plans with enthusiasm. I watch her animated face with my mind interposing memories. Though she is older now, and shockingly so, there are still remnants of her former beauty to be seen. Her soft round chin and her small ears, her sparkling eyes and the shape of her neck all remain as I have remembered. She is fatter now than she was, and her heavy breasts have finally sagged and fallen but her bearing is still the same, and I recall how proud she sat at the great table, her magnificent breasts held perfectly in place by a pink and cream dress and off set by a simple string of pearls. Her dark hair already had streaks of grey in it, but she’d dyed it for the wedding and set it up high. It is her hair that I recall seeing first as I peered through the rotten wood.
Having made my way around the boat house, I finally saw a sliver of light amongst the undergrowth, and treading carefully I waded through the nettles to peer within. What I saw drove away any irritation caused by the stinging vegetation, for the first sight I beheld was Aunt Anna’s hair as it rose and fell. I couldn’t see the man’s face at first for a wooden pillar blocked my view and he was partly turned away from me, sitting on something so all I could see of him was his right leg and right arm. Kneeling before him, his cock deep in her busy mouth was Aunt Anna.
The only light source came from a single bulb which hung from the ceiling some where off to the left and had it not been for her hair, I would not have recognised Aunt Anna for the first several minutes, for the shadows were dim and neither spoke and my view was hampered by the fact that my vantage point was quite low to the ground so I was obliged to bend forwards in a most uncomfortable manner, or kneel in the dirt. Given the manner in which Aunt Anna applied herself to the man’s erection however, I assumed that what I was witness to, was a quick blow job so I remained standing, bending forwards to watch. Eventually I realised that my assumptions were mistaken when the man suddenly grasped Aunt Anna by the hair and pulled her head up. It was obvious that he caught her by surprise also, for her eyes were closed and her mouth retained its perfect O shape which I saw to my intense satisfaction in the light of the naked light bulb. A single strand of saliva hung from her lips for a second; catching the light, then fell away as she opened her eyes wide in surprise.
“Stand up” he said and I realised with a shock who he was. I already had a desperate erection and now I freed it from its confines for I feared if I remained to watch what was obviously happening next, then a damp patch might later give me away. Aunt Anna was pressed against an old wooden work bench with her expensive dress pulled up around her hips to reveal plump thighs and black lace knickers. The man stepped closer and I caught a glimpse of his hand reaching down before his body blocked my view. Aunt Anna gasped and closed her eyes tight. Her hands gripped the edge of the bench then she lifted her face to the ceiling. I could see his arm working aggressively and I could see how she reacted. He manipulated her to the point of orgasm, his other hand gripping the hair on the back of her head and then just before she came, he lifted her bodily onto the bench and pressed himself into her with a jerk of his pelvis. With her legs spread wide to receive him and both arms around his shoulders, Aunt Anna came with eyes screwed shut and mouth wide open in a silent scream.
I came with a delicious long flow of sperm that disappeared into the darkness of the night, and it was only as I shuddered in the after glow that I realised I had dropped to my knees at some point. I glanced around. The trees and nettles stood silently and in the distance the party continued. Inside the building, Aunt Anna was still being fucked hard and now her voice sounded, hoarse and involuntary. I placed my eye back to the crack and watched as my mind whirled with a confusion of emotions. I thought of Uncle Paul, back at the party, his sad serious face, flushed with wine and happiness, watching his daughter and her husband. Did he know his wife was unfaithful? Did he not wonder where she’d been for the last twenty minutes? The man in the boat house didn’t waste any time. He crooked an arm under a knee and lifted Aunt Anna’s leg wider. Her voice was louder, but now as he pressed as deep and hard as he could, I could no longer see her face. She managed to muffle her voice some how, but I could still hear her desperate whimpering and one of her hands was still on his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt.
I found my cock in my hand again when suddenly the man said something and stepped back and Aunt Anna followed him, dropping to her knees and opening her mouth like any common slut. My vision blurred dramatically and I stopped breathing lest I reveal myself as I came in a long shuddering orgasm that drained me entirely and left my head spinning and my thighs trembling slightly. I had come at the same time as the man who had emptied himself in my Aunt’s open mouth and as my vision returned I watched as she squeezed the last drops from him, sucking him dry then watching from her knees as he pulled on his jacket and buttoned up his pants. I waited and watched, fearful now of being discovered, my still rigid penis in my hand. The man left and Aunt Anna climbed to her feet. As the door closed behind him, she leant back against the workbench and heaved a great sigh. Her dress was crumpled, her hair in disarray and her make up smudged. She stood silently for a while as if listening and I held my breath, certain she was about to say something, tell me to come out and reveal myself, but I was unnoticed, hidden in the darkness behind the crack. She casually lit a cigarette, then took out a small mirror and began to put herself in order and very carefully I snuck away.
The conversation has moved on and my mind returns to the present. Aunt Anna has finished narrating her designs for her daughter’s wedding and is listening as my girlfriend talks about our holiday plans for this year. We are due to spend a few weeks in a summer house on the coast, just the two of us, in romantic seclusion, enjoying the summer sun and fucking as much as possible. Naturally the subject of sex does not arise, but it is uppermost in my mind as I listen to Aunt Anna’s approving response and I regard Uncle Paul’s stern but weary face on the wall behind her. I turn my gaze to Aunt Anna again and she smiles at me with calm serenity. I wonder if my father or his other siblings ever knew what Aunt Anna really was, or whether Uncle Paul ever understood that his wife would fuck his b*****r like some gasping, eager whore...
Posted by Ijhel 3 years ago Views: