Aunt Brenda - Part 2

For the second time that day I sat on my bed, head in hands, cursing myself. How could I be so careless. I had no doubt that my aunt Brenda would tell my mother what I had been doing, and who had made it clear to me that self-gratification was a sin. It was something that only those with no control over their a****l impulses indulged in. This discussion was initiated after she discovered my cum-stained sheets in the laundry and had dragged on for hours with my angry and disgusted mother berating me and men in general for being the pigs that God, in his wisdom, had made us.

Ever since I had been so careful to dispose of any “evidence” of my loathsome conduct, so how could I have been so reckless as to let Aunt Brenda catch me doing it.? Damn...I was so stupid!!!

Aunt Brenda had lived with us for as long as I could remember. She came to help my mother out after my father had left, not long after I was born, and had just stayed; became part of our f****y.

Although Aunt Brenda was a few years older than my mother, my mother treated her more like a younger s****r. Actually, my mother treated her rather like she treated everyone else; like the simple-minded fools she believed they were. However, Aunt Brenda allowed a lot of my mother's disdain for everything that didn't quite measure up to her standards just roll off her back. Brenda was a lot more laid-back, and I sensed that she often “had my back” when my mother was particularly angry. I had once overheard Aunt Brenda telling my mother to just calm down and stop nagging at me, that I was just a typical boy and that her constant scolding wasn't going to change that. When I had problems at school or needed help, I always turned to aunt Brenda. She was pleasant and always willing to offer helpful advice. But she was an adult and our relationship was just as a normal adult-c***d, aunt-nephew relationship should be.

***************************************

I quickly dressed, ignoring the cum I had sprayed all over myself and lay back on my bed. I picked up a book and absentmindedly turned the pages, seeing the words but not absorbing them. My mind reeling with improper images of my aunt's naked body and foreboding of my mother's anger when she got home.

“Jamie?” A soft tap on my bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

Oh God. It was Aunt Brenda. I didn't want to answer. I'd prefer to just pretend I didn't exist.

Another knock. Not wanting to make matters worse, and possibly annoying Aunt Brenda, I reluctantly got up and slowly opened the door.

Aunt Brenda stood in the hallway. “Can we talk?”

I nodded, my head hanging in shame, too embarrassed to even speak.

“May I come in then?”

Another nod. I stood aside and she walked to my desk, pulled out the chair and sat down with a sigh.

I had a tough time looking her in the eyes, but felt her eyes on me.

“Well this is kind of awkward.” She was smiling.

I was confused. Surely she was mad at me for watching her undress.

She must have seen the confusion on my face, and took control of the situation.

“Look k**do, I'm sorry I didn't close my door properly. Seeing me like that must have been quite a shock for you. I hope I haven't put you off girls for life,” she laughed. “But walking in on you without knocking was out of line. I'm really sorry.”

Now I was totally confused. All I could utter was, “You're not mad at me?”

“For what? For masturbating?” She said this with a hint of surprise. I nodded.

“Jamie. Why would that make me mad? Everybody does it. It's absolutely normal you know. If anything you should be mad at me for not knocking.”

“Everybody does it?” I asked. I couldn't believe I was discussing this, but the idea that I wasn't a pervert as my mother would have me believe was quite a relief.

She nodded.

“But just boys, right? Girls can't...uh...don't...uh...have...uh...”

“Penises?” She said helpfully.

Smiling, she explained, “No, we don't have penises, but we do have other equipment. I know your mom won't deal with the subject, so when you are ready, just ask me. I'll explain it. It's something that all boys need to know...I wish more parents explained it before...” her voice trailed off, and I sensed a little regret.

“Okay k**do. I'll leave you to whatever it is you were busy with.” I saw a mischievous look in her eyes. “I just wanted to apologize.” She started to the door.

Feeling a little more confident, and knowing aunt Brenda and I were still on good terms, I innocently blurted out, “You didn't, you know.”

She stopped, surprised, “I didn't what?”

“Put me off girls.”

“Oh Jamie, what a sweet thing to say.” She took me in her arms. “You don't have to lie though,” she laughed, hugging me so tight I had a hard time talking. I hugged her back, my arms not able to completely encircle her torso. She was so much taller than me that my next words were muffled by her huge breasts, but she heard them. “I think you looked beautiful.” I didn't care that a thin layer of cotton separated me from them, but the contact of my face with her soft, yielding flesh was electric.

She slowly loosened her grip on me, but I continued to hold her tight. I think she also realized where her hug had unintentionally buried my head. “Oh Jamie, that is so sweet, but you really can't think of me in that way.” She wasn't angry. She sounded sad more than anything. “I'm just your saggy old aunt, and you have a lot of growing up to do before you start looking at ANY girl in that way.”

She gently placed her hands on my shoulders, trying to put some distance between us. I loosened my hold on her, not quite letting go. Something about the contact, the closeness with my aunt, was giving me that sensation I felt when I first saw her naked. I didn't want to let go but I realized that pretty soon my young cock was going to give me away.

Not wanting her to think I really was the pervert my mother told me I was, I let Aunt Brenda go and backed away a couple of steps, still looking up into her pretty eyes.

She looked down, not able to miss the obvious bulge. “Oh God,” she gasped. “You really DO think of me in that way.”

“I'm sorry aunt Bren.” I realized that I had probably messed everything up between us. She probably thought of me as a pervert too by now. “I...I...uh...just couldn't help it.”

And that was the honest truth. It seemed that just about anything would cause me an erection at that age. I could sitting at the dining room table listening to my mother bitching about life in general and, for no reason I'd start getting hard. It seemed to have very little to do with my circumstances, but there it was. Maybe I WAS a pervert, I would think. I was pretty good at hiding them in most cases, but unless I grabbed myself in front of my aunt, this one could not be hidden.

“Sorry about what, Jamie?” Again, not mad, Aunt Bren just seemed concerned for me. “It's also normal for boys to get erections, Jamie. I just never imagined I'd be the reason for yours.”

In an unusual moment of boldness I threw all caution to the wind and said actually said what I was feeling. “Well you ARE,” I said in a petulant, accusatory way, as if she was completely to blame for all my sexual actions, all my sexual frustrations, and every sexual thought my young mind had ever had. Thinking back it was a very immature way of thinking, but it seemed to strike a nerve with my aunt. She looked at me sympathetically, a little frown on her face, as if contemplating something grave she shook her head. “I can't,” she mumbled. She slowly walked out of my room, “I'm so sorry Jamie.” I heard her whisper as she left.

***************************************

I didn't know what to think. I hadn't intended telling my aunt how I felt, but something she said kept ringing in my head. “I can't.” She didn't say she wouldn't, she said she couldn't. To me this was a significant difference. My adolescent optimism immediately began to create a fantasy in which couldn't started to become something like, she “couldn't” just at this moment, and she couldn't just then, but “could” right now. As I lay back on my bed I replayed the last few minutes; the wonderful sensation of her hug pulling my face into her huge tits. My imagination removed the layer of cotton and now my face was buried between her naked breasts. This time I felt no guilt as I stripped off my shorts. My aunt had given me the green light to do it whenever I pleased. She said it was normal and I'm good with that. My fertile young mind sees her between my spread legs, one hand on my hard cock, the other gently kneading my smooth, hairless balls. She's telling me this is quite normal, everybody does it. She takes me into her mouth, running her hands along my chest, belly and thighs. She groans with obvious pleasure as she slides my cock in and out of her wet mouth. My pace of stroking quickens as I imagine her removing the rest of her clothes, standing before me naked. I imagine her huge breasts hanging down her chest. I complete the image with large dark areola and hard protruding nipples. She lies next to me, lust in her eyes. She begs me to get on top of her. She grips my hard cock and slides me into her hot, wet pussy. “Fuck me Jamie...fuck me please...”. And I do. My cock swells in my hand and I slow my stroking...I want this to last, but its too late. The familiar and still unbelievable sensation preceding my orgasm begins to build in my groin. I feel my balls tighten as my climax grows. Thick liquid rising from somewhere deep inside forcing itself through my swollen penis. There's no stopping now. I gasp as the first stream erupts, uncontrollable, deep inside my aunty. And then another and another. My cock head feels like it will burst as the thick semen exits, stream after stream. The freedom of hearing my aunt's voice...it's normal Jamie...seemed to liberate me. I didn't feel the guilt that immediately followed my earlier orgasms. I kept fucking aunty until my balls were drained and my softening, cum covered cock slipped from my fingers.

I don't know how long I lay on my bed creating new scenarios of me fucking Aunt Brenda. I knew my mother would be home from work soon, but I didn't care. This time my door was locked, I had privacy and best of all, I didn't feel guilty anymore.

Still, one thought kept nagging me. “I can't,” she had said. All that meant to me, a horny k** just beginning the journey of self discovery, was that she “might”. Can't did not mean “won't,”...and that's all I needed.
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Posted by goingnuts
3 years ago    Views: 2,109
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3 years ago
Very good story hope theres more
3 years ago
Good story. I hope there's a part 3!