"Stories 18+" Abused Aunt Jean C1

Stories 18+ Abused Aunt Jean C1
Mortified. If Ron had thought of the word he might have used it to describe how he felt at the moment -- so embarrassed and so angry at himself that he wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He had been so freakin' stupid! 

She said she was going to the grocery store! 

He usually locked his door when he did it, but he had been in such a freakin' rush to get to his room to gawk at Mrs. Gregerson sunning at her pool, her freakin' bikini top undone, her half way decent ass barely covered. He ran up the stairs, praying, hoping that he'd get to his bedroom window and not miss it, if and when she propped herself up with her elbows to reach for her ice tea or whatever the hell she drank. Last week when she did that she had twisted her torso and he had seen her naked tits for at least five seconds. 

Even without the bare tit or tits, he'd still have a good time beating off, watching her, thinking about how good it would be to fuck her, then shoot his jiz all over her face, her tits, her ass. He'd look at her nearly naked body and think about ramming his cock into her, just like in the porn vids his friend Josh would let him rent when the manager wasn't in the store. Ron had made copies of ten of them with his two VCRs. 

Watching Mrs. Gregerson sunning was almost better than beating off to the porn vids, actually each made the other better. Without the porn vids he would never have thought of ramming his cock into her hot asshole, or rough fucking her mouth, or having his cock between her big tits, her hands holding those big fleshy orbs together making a tit-cunt for his sliding prick then shooting his wad all over them. And when he watched the porn vids on the days Mrs. G sunned, he'd imagine the chicks in them to be Mrs. Gregerson, begging for it in her ass, or it would be her screaming, "Harder! Harder! Ron! Fuck me harder!" 

He would watch her from his bedroom window, usually naked himself, his palm all slicked up with hand lotion, yanking his crank seeing her nearly naked on that cushioned redwood chaise, but also seeing her in his mind, fucking her, fucking her so good, so hard, her mouth, her cunt, her asshole, and the combo of that would make him cum so freakin' hard he'd shoot jiz onto the window sometimes, and it felt so damn good while his prick pumped, but then fifteen minutes later he'd feel so damn ashamed, not only for being a perv, but for his nearly complete failure with girls. 

He wasn't a virgin, he had hooked up twice, fucked both chicks, not total dogs, but he wouldn't have been interested in either of them if he had been sober. He had a few "Clinton" hookups too when he had been drunk but he now no longer counted those as anything. When he liked some hot, pretty chick, he was so freakin' nervous, that whenever he had a chance to talk to the girl his brain would go blank, switch off. Most girls thought he was an asshole, thought he was stuck up, or a hard-ass loner, or god knew what. 

There had been two girls during the past couple years he had really liked, wanted to go out with, not only wanted to thoroughly fuck them, but actually wanted to get to know them, and he had blown it with both girls. Each had approached him at parties or at school, smiled at him, tried to get him to talk, and he'd mumble something about how he needed to get another beer, or if it was at school he'd say he had to see the coach or something. Excuses to walk away so they wouldn't see how much he liked them and how damn stupid and nervous he was. His brain just shut down around girls he liked! 

She was supposed to be at the grocery store!

He wasn't thirteen anymore! He wasn't sad about his mother dying unless he really thought about her, and he hated to admit it, but he really didn't think about her very often anymore. He was eighteen now! When his father went around the country for three months every summer to supervise road or freakin' bridge construction or whatever that damn company built around the country, he didn't need Aunt Jean to freakin' baby-sit him anymore! He would be in college in a few months! He would have been okay being alone for the summer since he was freakin' fifteen! 

And she was so freakin' weird! She had never gone swimming in the freakin' pool, not once, not one freakin' time during any of the fucking summers she had been here. And she always wore those dumb-shit, dorkwad clothes! Who the fuck wore long, blue jean shorts that were hemmed?! And she must have five fucking pairs, and those damn stupid tee shirts that are always too freakin' big on her! The only freakin' parts of her he had seen were her oddball fat calves and piano ankles, her arms basically from her elbows down, and her head! 

All that first summer she had stayed, he thought she was real fat under those clothes just like her fat-ass ankles, but then at the end of summer, on a windy day, her stupid baggy tee shirt had been plastered against her side and she wasn't fat at all, which just proved what a freakin' dork she was! She couldn't even buy clothes that fit right! And that fuckin' freak eye of hers she was always hiding with her hand, and those stupid large plastic frame glasses! It was like she was a freakin' cyclops, or... or always taking a freakin' eye test looking at a fuckin' chart on the wall! 

His self-loathing skyrocketed with that last thought. He was an asshole. She wasn't a cyclops, she could see out of the always squinting eye. That odd shape to her eyesocket and cheekbone, and that drooping scar around the socket forming a backwards "J" on her face was from a car crash when she was about his age. It hadn't even been her fault. According to Dad, she had almost died, and that freaky eye and freaky part of her face had gone through six operations, plastic surgery and other shit, and it was the best it was ever going to look. He said she had other operations too but he hadn't gone into much detail about those.

Ron knew he definitely was an asshole. He was trying to put her down in his mind and all she had ever been was nice to him. She had never been some dictator during the summers she stayed with him, although she wouldn't let him walk all over her either, but he had never really tried that. She had never attempted to be a replacement mom either. If he thought about it, she had been nice, had even tried to be his friend, and he had never responded in kind. He did what she said he had to do, and when he tried to pull something she pointed out that Dad had told her the rules. He had done some shit a few times, coming home drunk, or drunk and stoned, actually more than a few times, but she had only realized he was high three or four times. She had told Dad, but had spoken with him first, saying she wasn't a tattletale, spy, or informant on him, she was just following his dad's instructions, and his dad trusted her to tell him when Ron broke the rules. 

Those times had made him mad as hell because he never told on her. He hadn't really noticed when he was thirteen that first summer, actually it wasn't until near the end of the next summer that he figured out Aunt Jean got drunk at least once a week. He could sort of tell from the way she walked, and sometimes she would forget to angle her face away when she spoke to him, and she'd forget to used her hand to hide the scars and disfigurement especially when she watched TV. Once she wasn't even wearing her thick framed glasses when he first walked into the family area, but she had quickly put them on. Mostly it was her slurring of words that let him catch on to it. 

Those nights would always end the same way. She'd go to the guest room early, saying she was sleepy. She'd take a bath, or shower in the guest bathroom, and then on and off for the next couple hours she'd be in the bedroom, he guessed on the bed, crying on and off, fits of sobbing really. He had noticed other signs too. She always used one of the dark blue glasses they had when she drank alcohol, not the clear glasses. He never mentioned it to Dad. He didn't want to get her in trouble, and she hadn't told on him a few, well, more than a few times, when he had broken some rule -- I won't tell your Dad this time, but you have to promise me you won't do that again. He'd always promise.

She was supposed to be at the freakin' grocery store!

He got off the bed and started pacing. He'd have to leave his room sooner or later. When he realized Aunt Jean was getting drunk and crying, he had felt sorry for her, but even with the pity, he never was very nice to her. He should have been. Maybe it was that she was such a dork, or the way she acted so weird about her eye that first summer she stayed, even though he had seen her at least a couple times every year all his life. 

Her eye had creeped him out as a boy when Mom had told him to give Aunt Jean a hello or good-bye hug. That was when he was a little older, but when he was he was really young her weird eye didn't bother him much. She'd always play with him quite a bit when she'd visit for a week or so during summers and a week during Christmastime. Maybe she knew how to relate to kids better. She taught first grade. That was why she had the summers free to be here. He could recall snippets of those early times, and he couldn't remember her covering her eye up or turning her face away to the side when she talked with him. Ron couldn't even remember noticing the eye when they played and laughed together. Maybe she had been baby-sitting him then too, just for an evening or day when Mom and Dad went out. 

He recalled telling her when he must have been about nine that she'd be really pretty if she didn't have the ugly eye. In his boy's way, he had thought it was a compliment. The comment had made her cry. He wasn't sure, but he sort of recalled that after that, she had started angling her face slightly away from him whenever she was around him. Just like she did now. It was after that the hugs started creeping him out.

Yeah, he had been an asshole to her. 

But she said she was going grocery shopping! 

Yeah, and he told her he was going to get his running shorts and go for a run. He shut his eyes tight. He had been so close to shooting his wad, holding his breath, ready to feel the surge, slowing down the strokes, squeezing his hand tighter around his aching hard, thick prick, his sliding hand was Mrs. Gregerson's torrid asshole, she was begging him to fill her ass with his hot cum. He was a few seconds away from shooting it, his body stiffening, his torso curving forward a little. Then his bedroom door abruptly swung opened. 

He wasn't sure if he jumped but he instantly turned towards the sound, his hand still gripping his deep red, throbbing rod. He wasn't certain he had jumped, but he was positive Aunt Jean had. She had let out a brief high pitched yelp too. Her good eye went really wide and her freaky eye strained to open wider too, so much so there had been a sort of stretch crease by her odd, disfigured cheekbone. She had frozen after her little "EEEK!" Her eyes fixed on the hard rod in his hand. It had to look like he was pointing it right at her, which in essence, he had been. Her jaw couldn't have dropped lower. 

He had frozen in pose too, still hunched over a little, gripping his throbbing prick at the base, he had stopped breathing. Time seemed to become suspended, or at least super slow motion. Her eyes on his cock, his eyes on the extra distortion behind her thick framed glasses around her freak eye. It seemed they had stared at each other for ten seconds, although it couldn't have been more than a couple, yet he recalled that he had thought at the time, Why aren't either of us moving? A few moments, maybe microseconds, after that thought, Aunt Jean moved first. Her face raised slightly, followed by her good and freaky eye, which met his eyes. He remembered her mouth still open wide like an elongated "0," then the next moment, she dropped the folded tee shirts, underwear, and socks she had in her arms, turned and ran out of the room. He became unfrozen, virtually jumped the ten feet or so to his door and slammed it closed then pushed the button on the knob to lock it. 

That was forty minutes ago. Jeezuz. It's only June tenth! I have to face her for two and a half months more! I'm eighteen! She doesn't have to be here! 

He and Dad had talked about that. Dad agreed he was old enough to take care of himself, but he also said he thought Ron would end up partying a hell of a lot and that worried him, things getting out of control, someone getting hurt, the liability. He added that since he had suggested Ron take this summer off, not work for the contractor this summer and just enjoy himself before college started, that the old adage about boredom being he devil's playground had some validity to it. 

Ron had said he could trust him a dozen times, but Dad said he knew how peer pressure worked, he knew that even if Ron didn't plan a party, maybe some friends would just show up some afternoon, and in a friendly way they'd share a six pack and after Ron drank a beer or two suddenly having just one party wouldn't be that bad because everyone would be careful and adult about it. 

Dad then admitted that half of the reason, maybe the larger part of he reason he wanted Aunt Jean to stay the summer again, was for Jean. He said it was good for her to get out of her little house, swim in their pool, relax in a change of scenery. When Ron had told him Aunt Jean never used the pool, Dad hadn't believed him at first then had sort of believed him. Dad said that Jean had some unresolved "issues" since the auto accident. It wasn't just her face that was injured but she had other scars too. That maybe she was shy because of that. He had told Ron that she had really been a very pretty girl, very nice and sweet, popular, and all that in high school, then in her senior year the accident had happened. Ron had been about six at the time. 

Ron now blinked with an epiphany. That's why I don't remember her face being fucked up when I was real little. A second realization hit him. When he was really young, she had only been a girl, like twelve or thirteen. That would make her like thirty or thirty-one now. A third realization hit him-- He had never wondered how old she was. She was Dad's little sister, so maybe he assumed she was in her thirties, because Dad was forty-one, but hadn't Dad been in high school when she was born? No, maybe he was in middle school? How old is she? The way she dressed and the freaky eye, mostly it was the way she dressed, he just thought "dork" when he'd look at her, not any age. Ron's gut instantly tightened at the sound of the three soft taps on his door.

Jean cleared her throat. "Ron? Ron, I... I think we... um... I think we need to have a brief talk. I... I'll be in the kitchen. Come down, okay?"

FUCK-FUCK-FUCK! Ron took a slow breath. "Uh... yeah. I'll meet you in the kitchen, in... in a minute."

"All right."

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! His gut was in a knot. He had been hoping she'd just pretend it hadn't happened. He tried to think of some excuse or explanation but what explanation could there be but the real one? SHIT! He figured he better go down and just get it over with. 

He left his room and went to the kitchen. When he entered Aunt Jean was sitting at the table not the island counter, her right elbow on the table top, her forearm vertical, her hand at her face as if resting her head slightly against her palm, or holding the dorkwad thick plastic frames of her glasses, but he knew it was there to cover her freak eye. She was staring down at a glass of water. Her head moved slightly, her good eye looked at his waist then back down at her glass of water. He sat down at the end of the table, she was at the side of the table, her good profile towards him. It was their usual positions on the rare occasions they both sat at the table. He usually ate his meals in his room or in front of the big TV. She usually ate in the kitchen area. 

Ron took a quick breath. "I'm... I'm really sorry, Aunt Jean. I..." He didn't know what else to say.

"I... I'm sorry too. I... I should have knocked. I..." She stopped talking and sipped her water. "I thought you were out running and so when I brought the laundry up I didn't think you were home." She took a breath.

Ron needed to ask and spoke fast, "Are you going to mention this to Dad?"

Jean kept staring at her water glass. "No." She took another breath. "I don't think that's... it's not necessary. You... you were just doing what... what a normal boy would do. And... and I know when there are... are attractive women around that..."

OH SHIT! She knows I was checking out Mrs. Gregerson! Ron's gut knotted tighter.

"... that guys... boys, I mean... young men..." She took a sip of water. "That guys will... will have thoughts and.... and will fantasize." Another sip of water. "Girls... girls... I mean, everyone... I mean both sexes... masturbate. It's... it's a psychological and biological function. So... so... I don't... I don't think you should feel embarrassed about... about it. And... I... I can understand why... why you were watching Eileen, but... but..." She took another sip of water. "I'm not sure... that... that you should be looking at her... without.... her... I mean... without her knowledge, it's like you're... I... I mean... I don't think that's a good... habit to..." 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her eyes opened. "You're eighteen, Ron, I... I know you think I shouldn't be saying anything to you about this, so... I... I mean, I guess that's right. You're a young man now, and I'm... I'm...." 

Jean turned her face away from him. Her hand rose and quickly wiped both her eyes. Her head swiveled forward again and she drank more water. "And... I'm just some... some ug... some... aunt who's a... a grade school teacher, so... so I know I shouldn't be telling you how to live you life or... or what to do." 

She cleared her throat and then took yet another sip from her glass. "And... and... I... I really didn't mean to... to just stand there, but... but... I was... so... so shocked... I mean surprised, that I... I froze. I'm sorry about that too. That and not knocking. I'll never again go into your room without knocking first, even... even if I'm sure you're with your friends or out on a date with some girl or something." Jean took one more sip of water. "Is there anything... do you want to say anything?"

"I... I just want to say I'm sorry. I'm... I'm very, very sorry."

Jean pushed her chair back and stood without looking at Ron. "I... I... I'm going to do the grocery shopping now."

"I'm... I think I'm gonna drive over to Josh's and... and I may uh... grab a burger later... with... uh... the guys. So... I'll be home... like late."

"All right." At the doorway to the laundry room she lowered her hand from her face.

Ron turned onto his street. It was near midnight. Josh's mom had essentially thrown him out at 10:30 because Josh was working tomorrow morning. Ron had gone to a cafe in town and nursed an iced cappuccino as long as he could, then just walked around the dead shopping area for a while. He finally ran out of options and slowly drove home. As he approached the driveway he noticed a lamp on in the family room. That didn't mean Jean was up. She usually left an undercabinet light on in the kitchen and a lamp in the family area when he was out and she went up to bed. He saw a subtle flicker, changes of light at the closed drapes. Shit! She was up. She had the big TV on. 

At the cafe he had decided to just act as normal as possible around her. He didn't want any more tension or weirdness between them than there had been prior to her barging in on him beating off. He just wanted everything to go back to normal. 

He stopped the car in the usual spot he parked on the driveway. The normal thing for him to do, was to go into the family room and watch the big TV. There was a music show on cable he watched every Friday night when he didn't have a date or wasn't at some party, which was usually every freakin' Friday night. His last date was three months ago, with a girl he had no interest in at all. He had asked her out, in essence as practice. It had bored the hell out of him, and the girl had known it. She had a awful time too.

When he entered the family room he was surprised Aunt Jean was sitting oddly in her usual spot in the upholstered arm chair. Her posture was usually lousy, but he had never seen her slouched so much. His eyes went to the dark blue glass in her hand. "Hi, Aunt Jean." He didn't watch but out the corner of his eye he didn't see her move or her hand rise to hold her dorkwad glasses and profile in the usual attempt to cover most of her freak eye. 

"Hi." She took a drink, tilting the glass high. She lowered it. "I s'pose you're gonna... wash that music show."

Ron sat on the couch. She was half wasted. No, probably fully wasted. He had never seen her truly drunk, then again he had never tried to rate her drunkeness either. "Don't have to. Watch what you're watching.

"I'm not washin' it... anything."

"Mind if I switch it?"

"No... swish it."

He took the remote from the occasional table by her chair. He sat on the couch and changed the channel. He heard her finish her drink, not the swallowing but the clinking ice in the afterwards shake of the glass.

"You... you wash her a lot, don' chew?"

Ron's gut tightened. He looked at her. Another new oddity. Her right leg was folded up, her little foot in the thick white sock flat on the cushion, her knee was slightly wagging back and forth. "Pardon me?"

Jean stopped her leg not even sure why it had started moving. "Nothin'." She took a deep breath, then stood up. "I'm goin' ta bed." The glass slipped out of her hand, it didn't break just bounced on the carpet, and tossed its five ice cubes out. "Fuck." She knelt down and then went into a crawling position to move around to gather the ice cubes. 

Ron moved quickly. He crouched down and reached for one of the cubes. He smelled whiskey. Jean slapped his hand away.

"I'll pick 'em up." She put the last two cubes back in her glass, stood up and went to the kitchen. 

Ron was shocked that she had slapped his hand when he had been trying to help. That was another first, as was her very obvious weaving as she walked, it had never been that bad, and he had definitely never her heard her say "damn" let alone "fuck." He knew it had to be related to what happened earlier in the day. She wasn't supposed to be home! He sat on the couch and watched the music show until it ended at 1:00AM, wondering the whole time if things would ever be normal again with Aunt Jean. 

He turned off the TV and then switched off the family area lamp. He flicked the switch for the little tread lights as he headed upstairs he heard it. Aunt Jean was crying again - intermittent sobbing, taking quick breaths in between. He figured she always tried to stifle the sobbing by taking breaths so it would mostly be silent except for the breaths. Now there was some momentary sobbing, then she moaned like some little girl crying. He frowned. She was supposed to be at the fuckin' grocery store! It was all his fault. He took the last few stairs to the second floor. He saw her door was open a crack. A small lamp must be on. Maybe from the dresser. He listened to her odd sobbing-moaning. 


He started towards his room down the hall away from hers. More sobbing. He stopped in front of his closed bedroom door. He knew it was his fault this time. She was supposed to be shopping! He opened the door and took one step inside his room and halted again. He muttered, "Fucking shit." He exhaled, then turned around. He should apologize again, maybe ask if she wanted anything, maybe even ask if she needed to talk. He exhaled a whisper, "Fucking shit." 

He walked towards her door. It had to be a little lamp on in there. The light wasn't very bright. When he cleaned the room before she arrived this summer, there were those two little lamps on the dresser. He exhaled another whisper, "Fucking damn." At her door he tapped on it with his fingertips. There was that weird sob again. He tapped louder. The last thing he wanted to do was scare or surprise her with a loud knock. He whispered, "Aunt Jean?" He tapped a little harder again with his fingertips, while whispering her name once more. The tapping still wasn't very loud but doing it harder made the door swing open. 

He froze. It wasn't Aunt Jean on the bed! Wait. It was Aunt Jean on the bed! He didn't know it but his face was a carbon copy of Jean's this morning in his room. In fact everything was reversed. Aunt Jean was naked on the bed and she was beating off!

From his vantage point he had an angled view of the bed in the large bedroom. She was in a sort of half doggy position, her ass up but her head and shoulders down on the mattress. Her head was turned to the side facing towards him. Her eyes were closed. Her large black framed glasses were off, and her hair had fallen over her freak eye hiding it. It was one reason he had thought it was someone else. Her face looked totally different and every other part of her except for her forearms and ankles didn't look like anything he had imagined if he had ever even tried to imagine her body. 

She had a very hot apple ass, in her position her shoulders weren't hunched over so her back had a nice, sleek sloping curve down to her shoulders. He could see the underside of one breast, pressed against the mattress. It wasn't showing much at all, just a small bulging curve, not big by any means, but it was obvious she wasn't totally flat chested which was the impression most of the time, or maybe he had never really looked at her chest, or maybe it was because of her usual hunched posture. Her thighs were larger than her calves but not like the thunder thighs that would sort of go with her calves and fat ankles. Even her calves somehow looked different without her sneakers and socks, not fat, but much slimmer, smooth, toned, maybe it was the socks and fat ankles that just made them look odd before this. 

She was panting and moaning, not weird sobbing. His visual angle didn't give him any decent view of her pussy, but her arm was under her and it was obvious her fingers were playing with it, rubbing her clit nearly frantically. She started to tremble more. Her good eye opened and saw him a moment later. The biggest shock to him, even greater than seeing her like this was that she didn't scream. She kept looking at him, staring, almost glaring anger in her good eye. Her hand worked faster, almost viciously. Her eye closed as her breathing got more ragged. He saw her jaw clench and her lips pulled back, not in a smile, more of a grimace. He could hear hissing in-out, in-out, as she drew air in and exhaled it. Her eye opened again and gazed at him with definite anger.

"You... watch... Eileen.... a... a... a.... lot... but... but not... not... not girls... like... like... me... me. No... no one does... would." Jean shut her eyes tight as her body started twitching hard. Uh... uh... uh... UH!" She began shaking harder, then the twitching became jerking. Her face turned into her pillow. She worked her fingers harder. Her other arm was shaking as it reached back. Her fingers slid between her buns into her deep crack, it looked like two fingertips were circling her anus pressing firmly. "Ohhhhh... oh... uh... UH!" Her body started convulsing. "AHH!"

Ron finally came to his senses. He grabbed the doorknob and had enough mind not to slam it shut as he backed quickly into the hall. He hadn't even realized he had stepped inside. He turned and headed to his room at a quick pace. He got to his room and didn't slam that door closed either but quickly pressed the lock button. He sat on edge of the bed in the dark. 

What the fuck just happened?! He tried to get his brain working. His hand absentmindedly cupped his balls. It took him a few seconds to realize he had a throbbing hard-on. He yanked his hand away. How could she have a body like that?! And her face! That didn't even look like her! He realized he was breathing fast too, not as fast as her and probably not for the same reasons, maybe similar reasons, at least a little, but the rest of it, was... shock. Jeezuz! I just stood there! She's going to tell Dad this shit! How the fuck could I know she was freakin' playin' with herself?! FUCK! He tried to remember everything. She hadn't told him to leave, to get out, she hadn't screamed when she saw him. She had said something about Eileen, watching Mrs. Gregerson, but not her. Something like that.


Ron's eyes almost popped out of his head and he jumped up from the bed.

Jean pressed both her palms against the door, not pushing, just pressing. "I don' care! I jus' don' care anymore!" She panted few more breaths. Raised her hand and slapped the door again. THAP! THAP! THAP! "Do ya hear me?! I JUS' DON' CARE ANYMORE!" She turned around and weaved back to her room. She backhanded her bedroom door shoving it. Wham! It slammed shut. She had switched on the bedside table lamp, so now when she turned off the tea lamp on the dresser, she had light to her bed. She got in, pulled the covers up, switched off the lamp, turned onto her side, her hand slid between her thighs, her finger slowly stroked up and down her slippery labia a dozen times before she dozed off.

Ron finally undressed and got into bed at 2AM. He tossed and turned not able to sleep. At 3AM, he turned onto his stomach, shoved a pillow under his aching hard cock. For five minutes he fucked the pillow. It was Aunt Jean's perfect ass and he pumped a full load into her hot, tight asshole.


What Ron had feared would happen the next morning, didn't. He figured there would be another "sit down" in the kitchen, or worse, a long distance call to his dad. Neither happened. 

At 9AM he had been awakened from a deep sleep by Aunt Jean knocking on his door. When he said, "What?" She had just asked him, as she usually did, if he wanted breakfast. He said, "No thanks," and heard her pad down the hall. When he had finally gotten downstairs she had been cleaning the refrigerator, her hair in the usual half-assed pony tail which didn't include the hair that hung down in front of her ears and over her cheeks, her large plastic frame glasses on, wearing her uniform of hemmed, baggy blue jean shorts and bulky tee shirt. It again seemed impossible that the hot babe he saw finger fucking herself last night could possible have been the same girl, well, woman. Actually, she had looked like a girl his age.

He asked if there were any jobs she wanted him to do and she said no, since he had mowed the lawn a few days ago. He said he was going over to Tom's to play some vid games. She said, "Okay. Will you be home for lunch or dinner?" He said he wasn't sure. He said she should just eat without him if he wasn't home when she wanted to eat. It was all normal, in fact, repetitive. It could have been any Saturday last summer. 

He left and had to admit he was terribly relieved, then wondered why she didn't seem worried that he'd tell Tom or someone else about what he had seen the night before. Maybe she somehow knew he wouldn't tell anyone. Maybe she thought he wouldn't say anything because she had seen him beating off too, so if he told anyone, she'd tell on him? He also remembered her screaming that she didn't care anymore. He hadn't been and still wasn't sure what that had meant exactly. What didn't she care about? 

The rest of the weekend and the next week was normal. Aunt Jean never really looking at him straight on, her hand pretending to hold her profile but really just adding her fingers to the thick frames of her glasses to hide more of her freak eye. 

The only thing different was that on the two late mornings when Mrs. Gregerson sunned at her pool and he had started gawking at her, all he could think of was Aunt Jean's body. Plus standing at the window just made him feel guilty. Each time he had only watched for a few minutes and left his prick, which was definitely hard, untouched. Although the week had been "normal" he was glad that there was a party on Friday night. Tom's parents were out of town, there'd be beer, maybe someone would bring Bushmills, maybe some weed. Tom had told him Cindy was coming too. 

Chapter 2

Ron killed the beer and crushed the empty can. His fifth. He was angry and frustrated with himself. Staying at the party would just make it worse. "I think I'm gonna split."

Josh looked at his friend. "Hey, stick around. Jack said he was goin' to get some Bushy, from that guy he knows. It's only midnight or so, Ron."

Tom chuckled. "I tole you, man, you shouldda made your move on Cindy earlier."

He had been drinking his second beer, and thinking his third beer would relax him enough to go and talk to her. He had wanted to for a couple months. She had broken up with her boyfriend in the spring. Then Tom had asked him to make a snack run, to take Debbie and pick some shit up. So he left the party. Debbie took forever at the freakin' grocery store, trying to get the best bang for the buck. By the time they had returned, the party had gotten very crowded. When he went to get his third beer, he saw Cindy holding Jim LaLonde's hand heading upstairs to the guest room, all smiles and giggles. 

He looked at his friend Tom. "Fuck her."

Tom laughed. "No need to, man. Jim's gonna or did." He laughed again.

"Fuck off, Tom." 

Ron left the party and drove straight home. He'd watch some porn in his room, anal porn and try to imagine shoving it up Cindy's hot ass. When he pulled into the driveway he noticed the family room light wasn't on. When he entered through the garage door he saw the kitchen undercabinet light on. He went and got a soda and noticed the blue glass on the counter by the sink. He picked it up and smelled it. Whiskey. He opened the soda and sat the table. He had a few sips from the can, then decided he wasn't thirsty. He put the open can in the refrigerator, then headed to his room, as usual just switching on the tiny tread lights on the stairs. He noticed there was a dim light in the upstairs hallway. Aunt Jean's door had to be open at least a little. His cock started getting hard. 

He walked half way up and listened for her breathing and moaning that he had once thought was crying. He heard something but it wasn't panting. Holy fuck! It was voices. Two. Not loud. The girl's voice didn't really sound like Aunt Jean. Holy fuck! She had a guy in there! He heard crappy elevator music too. It sounded just like... Ron blinked. It sounded like the crappy soundtrack music on one of his pirated porn vids. He took a few more stairs. It wasn't just lamp light in the hallway, there was additional light, a flickering light. She had the TV on, she was watching one of his porn vids. He recognized the girl's line:

"I want it so bad! Give it to me hard! Come on, baby, fuck me... fuck me dirty."

It was an anal vid. It was the one where the girl got assfucked laying on her back on a kitchen table. The guy folded her legs back, and shoved his cock up her ass. He liked that one. He liked seeing the closeups of the girl's face. He walked up to the second floor. Aunt Jean's door was nearly fully open. He had to look. He just had to look. Having five beers helped him give in to his curiosity. 

He quietly approached the doorway, stopped short of it, and gazed into her room. Aunt Jean was on the bed, pillows against the headboard, she was sitting slouched, both her legs folded up and back, held in position with her elbows resting on the back of her thighs. Her knees were nearly even with her shoulders. Just like the chick in the porn vid. He saw her cunt. Three of her fingers were rubbing an elliptical circle on and around her slit. Her other hand was lower. A couple fingers circling her asshole. Her hair was a mess, like it had been windblown, wild and sexy, like the night last week. Ron's cock was already throbbing. It had grown to a full erection on the stairs. Without thinking or possibly not able to stop himself, he moved and stood in the doorway.

Jean noticed movement at the door. She looked and saw Ron there. She stared at him for a few seconds then turned her face to the TV. Her voice was half hiss, half growl as she murmured through her clenched teeth. "I don' care. I don' care anymore." 

Her hand worked her pussy faster for a dozen circuits, then her middle finger wiggled into her cunt for ten seconds fucking herself, then it slid out and rubbed speedily back and forth over her hardened clit. "Mmh... mmh." Her abdomen clenched and her body jerked. "Oh... mmmh." 

Her hand at her ass quickly pulled away. She turned to look at the night table. She grabbed a tube of lubricant, then her other hand left her pussy. She squeezed a big dollop on the fingertips of her left hand. She dropped the open tube to the side. Her right hand went back to her cunt, finger rubbing her clit, her elbow pushed her folded leg farther back. Her left hand returned to her ass. Her left leg folded back even more from pressure of her elbow. Her lubed fingertips rubbed the gel around her hot anus. She stared at the TV for a half minute before her middle finger began pushing into her asshole, not really wiggling, more like undulating. She pushed it half way in. Her eyes closed and her neck arched, the back of her head pressing into a pillow against the headboard. "Mmmm.... mmmm..... mmmm."

Ron's palm was on his crotch stroking the throbbing erection inside his jeans. His body on autopilot, he took a few more steps closer to the bed. Aunt Jean's head came forward. She glanced at him for a couple seconds, then looked at the TV, then her eyes closed. It seemed she was holding her breath.

Jean pushed her middle finger as deep as she could into her ass. "Arrrhh... mmmmh." She waited a moment, then twisted it back and forth for a few seconds then slowly pulled it almost all the way out. She added a second digit and worked both in slowly. "Ooh!" Her body flinched. Then she relaxed and slowly twisted and pushed the two fingers deeper into her rectum.

Ron moved closer. He was massaging his cock through his jeans. What he was watching was a thousand times hotter than any porn vid. It was probably hotter than when he fucked either of those two girls. She wasn't his aunt, except for the freak eye. This couldn't be his dorkball aunt. He saw her give a final push to her two fingers and they disappeared into her ass. He heard a thump and looked up. The back of her head had butted the headboard. He wanted to give long sucking kisses to her ached neck. His hand unbuttoned the front of his jeans, then pulled down the zipper.

"Urrrrrhhh... mmm... mmmh." She started twisting her fingers in her ass. "Oh... mmmh... mmmmmm." The finger at her clit started rubbing faster, firm strokes side to side. "Oh... umm... mmh." Her head flopped forward. She noticed movement out the corner of her eye. She looked left. Ron had his hand in his underwear. She could see the dark red mushroom head above the elastic. She kept her eyes on it as her two fingers in her ass began moving in and back, in and back... her mouth opened, she was taking ragged breaths. 

He saw her staring at his crotch. He didn't care anymore either. He stepped over to the foot of the bed blocking the TV. Her eyes followed him. He stared at her asshole and cunt. One hand pushing fingers up her butt, the other hand had a speedy finger on her surprising large clit, unless he really wasn't seeing it right. Her fast finger might be causing some sort of illusion. 

He looked a little higher. Her tits weren't bad, nothing to write home about, but her nipples were fantastic, big, pink raspberries, or like those movie theater gumdrops. He thought about sucking them as hard as he could then giving each a few good nipping bites. There were two scars, nearly parallel running diagonally from the side of her breast up across part of the top of her left breast to the center of her chest near her collar bone. They were noticeable but not deep ugly scars, just 1/4" wide, slightly raised, streaks of whiter shiny skin. There were more noticeable ones on her right side ribs, four or five, a couple deep and short, the others longer, four inches long or so. There was another three incher at the spot where her right arm joined her shoulder, and three low on her abdomen to the side, two pretty long and one that was a good 8 inches long and wide. That looked more like a surgical scar though, the same with one on her abdomen. 

He looked at her face. Except for the freaky eye, it wasn't Aunt Jean, it was some... some extremely hot mom... no, she looked hell of a lot younger than any of his friends' moms... more like that young couple with the baby down the street, that chick was very hot too, no... no... Jean looked like some hot college chick, yeah... a very hot, slutty college chick. Oh fuck! Oh jeezuz! He felt the urge to shoot his wad. He shut his eyes and just squeezed the head of his dick. He waited a few moments then opened his eyes. Aunt Jean was trembling now. He looked at her ass again, her cunt, her tits, then her face. Probably from a jerk of her head, her hair was covering her freak eye again, and the good one was locked on his cock. 

Ron shoved his jeans and underwear down to his thighs then began giving himself slow squeezing strokes. He didn't want to shoot yet. Jean's panting grew faster, louder. He looked at her face again. She licked her lips, then her eyes shut tightly for a moment as she shook then twitched three times. He gazed at her cunt and asshole. Her fingers shoved deep, then slowly twisted side to side. At her cunt three fingers were now swirling on her clit and slit. Her pink labs were glistening wet, as was her relatively small patch of very thick pubic hair. It looked like fur.

Jean's eyes shut tight again. "Mm... mm... mm... uh... OH!" Her head flew back, arching her neck. She felt her body go out of control. "OHHHHH! UH! MMMH!" Her fingers kept twisting in her ass, the ones at her clit were rubbing frantically. It was a blur of motion.

Ron's body went rigid. "ARRH.... FUCK!" His cock surged, the tip began spewing a half dozen streams, arcing up then landing on her bed sheet. The second shot sent the most jiz out, it landed less than a few inches from Aunt Jean's ass. He still gripped his cock and it stayed hard while he watched Aunt Jean peek.

"ARRH... ARRH... AHH!"

Ron gazed at Jean's body convulsed for ten seconds, then her hands slowed, the fingers in her ass pulled out and the ones at her pussy slowed, then only one finger slowly stroked her clit and labia. Her arms shifted and her legs unfolded, she moved on the bed, then rolled onto her tummy. Her body was still trembling as she gasped deep breaths. Her arm move under her. Her head turned to the right, her hair still hiding the disfigured eye. Ron stood there stroking his softening cock just staring at her pouting, perfect, apple ass, and glancing now and then at her finger barely showing between her legs, still playing little slow circles around her pink gem. It did look large. He stayed there for a few more minutes until her hand pulled out from under her. Her body shifted. She pulled up the top sheet and covered herself. She inhaled a deep breath and sighed. It looked like she was going to go to sleep.

Ron took his hand off his cock pulled up his underwear and jeans. In a near daze, he turned off the TV but forgot the VCR, then went to the dresser and switched off the tea lamp. He closed her bedroom door and walked down to his room. When he turned the light on he saw the bottom drawer of his chest pulled open. Two sweaters half hanging out and three of his copied porn vids were laying on the floor. He didn't give it any thought, undressed, got into bed and was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

Chapter 3

When he got out of bed the next morning he saw the bottom drawer of his chest was closed. He opened it and the sweaters were back inside and all ten of his pirated porn vids. 

As with the previous week there was no change in Aunt Jean. They spoke as much or as little as they always had. And as with the previous week the only changes that he noticed were in him. He hung around the house a little more. Whenever he could without her noticing, he'd steal glances or longer looks, or just plain stare at Jean. He was trying to see the hot chick under the dork clothes and behind the big dumb glass frames. He couldn't even imagine how her usually pony tailed hair could be the wild, disheveled, windblown, totally sexy hair of the girl who finger fucked herself in the guest bedroom. 

There was another change in him though. His usual getting hard-ons for 50% of his waking hours, increased to 90%. The thing was, he really didn't want to beat off unless he was watching Jean do it too. By Tuesday though, he didn't think he'd make it though the day. After lunch, Aunt Jean drove off to run some errands. Ron had started up to his room to whack the blueness out of his balls, then stopped. He thought about trying something. It was a shot in the dark. He went the kitchen and pulled out one of the tall blue glasses. He set in the center of the kitchen table. He then got his trail bike from the garage and went for a long ride. 

He stopped at the vid store to talk to Josh who was working, and rent a couple new porn vids, but the manager was there, so Ron just browsed the racks, even the older DVDs, trying to use up time before going home for dinner. He pretended to read the blurbs on every box he picked up. In his mind he was seeing Aunt Jean, playing with her big pink clit, or fucking her ass with her fingers, or the vision of him doing those things and more with his cock. When he mounted his bike to ride home and his blue balls pressed against the seat, he thought they were going to explode. When he finally reached home and walked into the kitchen, Aunt Jean was pulling a pan of chicken breasts out of the oven. He looked at the table and frowned. The blue glass was gone.

"You came home just in time, unless you're just stopping in to change clothes or something." 

As usual she didn't face him to talk. He looked at her ill fitting bluejean shorts. "No, I'd like to have dinner here, if that's all right."

"Sure. I'll make up a tray for you. Cranberry juice, water, or soda?"

"I'll get it." He looked at her hair. "And uh..." His eyes went back to her ass. "I... uh..."


"You... uh... eating in the kitchen?"

"Yes, I am."

"I... I'll eat at the table too tonight. If... if that's okay."

"All right. I won't get a tray out." Jean moved to check the potatoes. They were done. "It'll be a few more minutes."

He forked a piece of chicken into his mouth. Her good side was towards him as usual. She looked across the table to the empty chair for the most part. "This chicken is really good." It was. She made great meals. He realized he should have told her that a lot more often.

"Thank you." Jean took a quick breath. "This fall you'll been eating in the dorm, won't you?"

"Yeah, Dad thought it was worth it. Room and board."

"When I was in college, it wasn't split up, one price for both."

He kept looking at her good profile and he started to see a hint of the girl on the bed. "How did you like college?" He saw her look down at her salad. It only had a few cut strips of chicken on it. Most of her meals were salads. His brow pinched. She wasn't answering, just lightly poking her leafy greens with her fork.

"It... it was all right I guess."

"Dad said he had a lot of fun, made some good friends, even now stays in touch with a couple guys. I met one of the guys when he was passing through the city on business. Was it fun for you?"

Jean moved two chicken strips to the side of her bowl. "I really enjoyed my classes. I had a good professor in the Ed Department. She really got me interested in teaching at the elementary level."

Ron knew he wasn't the most perceptive guy around, but he realized that answer was a lot of words meaning: No. He wondered if he could just get her to look at him. "Aunt Jean?"

"Uh-huh?" She pushed the tines into a piece of chicken, tomato and spinach. She raised it to her mouth.

"You like salads a lot, don't you?" He watched her chew and there was just the tiniest of smiles on her lips, which was a very rare event. She swallowed and the smile wasn't there.

"Yes, I do. I like to eat light. I eat other things too. Meat, vegetables, the variety. I like fruit a lot. During summer, salads just seem right to me. I guess it's the heat of summer. You eat salad too."

He realize that this was turning into the longest conversation with Aunt Jean since he was a little kid. "Yeah, salads are good." He wanted an answer to a question that popped into his head on the bike ride but didn't know how to do it without her thinking he was talking about her freak eye. "Today riding, I realized that stuff I looked at in the distance was a little fuzzy. I may need glasses. From seeing my friends wearing contacts, that just looks like such a hassle. I hope I'm wrong and don't need glasses. I imagine glasses would be a real hassle too, losing them, that sort of thing."

"You... you just have to be careful."

"I'd hate to have to wear them all time. Do you have to wear yours all the time?" He watched her look at her wide, shallow, salad bowl. She lightly poked at it again.

"No... not all the time."

"Could I try them on?" Ron saw her freeze.

"Um... I... I don't... don't like doing that. I... Someone... someone accidentally broke them once. You should... you should get an eye test, then look at frames the optometrist has on display. Mine wouldn't fit you correctly anyway. I... I don't want the... the temple hinges bent." She stabbed more spinach and tomato. She put it in her mouth and turned her face to the right a little, away from Ron.

So much for that idea. He bet they were just plain glass or plastic lenses, joke glasses. "What grade do you teach? Second grade?"

"First grade."

"I guess you like doing that, huh?" He saw another one of her very rare smiles, just a slight curve on her mouth. He stared at her profile. 

"I love teaching. The kids are always amazing at that age. So... so accepting of... of differences in other kids, and... and older people. They're open, frank, in your face with a million questions, and when you hear some of them, you can't do anything but grin from ear to ear before answering. To see the expression on their faces when they finally understand something, they just light up, especially reading is... is... um... well, it's just wonderful to see. I love all my kids, every year, and.... almost cry at the end of the school year, but I don't because I know there'll be a new group in the fall who I'll end up loving just as much." 

Jean picked up more salad, chewed it slowly then swallowed. Her eyes swiveled towards Ron for a moment, then looked at her salad plate. She poked the leafy parts. "You're... you're really talkative tonight."

He didn't want her asking him questions, he wanted her to answer his. "Really? I don't know. Yeah, I guess I don't talk much."

Jean held her breath for a few moments, exhaled, took a slow deeper breath, poked her salad a little more, then started getting some onto the tines. She took another deeper breath. "Do... Do you have a girlfriend?" She raised the fork to her mouth, got the greens off the fork and started chewing faster than before.

His gut tensed. "No. No girlfriend." He shoveled a glop of mashed potatoes on his fork and ate it.

"Maybe... you'll meet the right girl in the fall, at college."

He didn't see how he'd figure out how to get his head together enough to talk to any girls he liked and wanted to date and get to know. He didn't know if he'd ever get it together. Even if a miracle happened and he could talk to them without sounding like an idiot, and asked some girl out, that didn't mean she'd say yes. He glanced at Jean and suddenly wondered if she was making fun of him. He quickly ate the last of the chicken. She was the weird one, not him! 

He pushed his chair back and went to the sink, scraped his plate into the garbage disposal, turned it on as he rinsed his plate off. He shut off the water and disposal and laid the plate on the countertop. "See ya later. I'm going over to Tom's." He didn't wait for her to respond, but heard her, "All right," as his hand grabbed the knob on the door to the garage.

He was bored as hell at Tom's but they shared a few beers leftover from the party. They drank out in the backyard out of sight while Tom's parents were inside watching TV. They didn't talk much. At 9PM, he said he was splitting. 

He drove home, figured he'd beat off after watching some TV. As he slowed at the house, he saw the family room light on. He entered from the garage, going through the laundry room and into the kitchen where the ceiling light was on. He didn't hear the TV or music playing. He looked at the counter and checked the sink. No blue glass. He went into the family area. Aunt Jean wasn't there. Her car had been in the garage and he couldn't remember the last time she had gone anywhere at night. She read books all the time. She did that in her room sometimes at night when he was watching the big TV. He thought about turning that on. He knew before he did anything he'd have to walk upstairs, and check to see if her door was open, which, he realized might mean she was reading. 

He left the lights on in the family room and went upstairs. Her door was open, light was spilling into the hallway, not much. He couldn't remember how much light came into the hall when she read. He stepped down to her door. He stopped a foot from the threshold. 

Aunt Jean was on the bed, pillows propped up against the headboard, she was sitting, more like slouching, but not as much as she was the other night. She had the blue glass in her hand and she was taking a drink. Her other hand was between her legs. Her legs were folded, knees towards the ceiling, the soles of her feet flat on the bed sheet. She was naked. From the angle he couldn't see her hand but he assumed her finger was again playing with her cunt. He looked at her face. She was still sipping. She wasn't wearing her glasses. Her hair was mussed up, but he saw both her eyes, the half closed one within the disfigured eye socket, and the other good one. 

Jean was looking at him over the end of the blue tumbler. Her legs wagged side to side slightly for a few seconds until she lowered the glass and set it down on the bedside table. It dropped to the surface with a - bonk. He could tell she hadn't done that on purpose. Her hand moved to her breast. Her hips squirmed. Her eyes gazed at his crotch. He glanced at the foot of her bed. In the space between the parson's table against the wall with the little TV and VCR on it, and the foot of the bed, there was the wooden chair with the upholstered seat that was usually at the desk. The only light on in the room was the tea lamp on the dresser. 

He pushed his shoes off then pulled his tee-shirt over his head. He looked at her face, her eyes were still on his waist or his crotch. He walked over to the chair and looked at her cunt Her middle finger was slowly circling her fantastic large clit. Her other hand was massaging her B minus cup size right breast. Thumb and index finger sometimes tugged her erect gumdrop shaped nipple. Her freak eye was still exposed. Both eyes were on his crotch for sure. He opened his jeans and pushed them down to his knees. His rigid cock sprang out of his briefs. He sat on the chair, and finished getting his underwear, jeans and socks off. He sat up and gripped the base of his cock, then started slowly stroking it as he gazed at her cunt. He noticed an open tube of gel on the sheet at the foot of the bed He reached for it and squeezed some on the head of his dick, then coated his thick member with his slowly stroking hand. Aunt Jean watched. 

Her cunt was thickly haired. It really did look like fur surrounding her slit. Her labia were pink and thin, delicate looking. Her thick ankles looked somewhat incongruent with the rest of her slender body but didn't detract that much. He had noticed long ago that her calves were toned and also looked smooth and hairless, not really shaved, but hairless. You couldn't even see pores. He knew she shaved them though, he had seen her take out a lady's razor from a grocery bag last year. The fur was intriguing but he wished it was shaved bald like chicks in porn vids. 

He stroked his cock a little faster and she did the same with the two fingers circling her clit. He thought about how her legs were the last time, and he remembered another of his porn vids. A guy at the side of the bed, the girl's ass at the edge of the mattress, the guy folding her legs back, kneeling then tongue fucking her cunt. The girl loved it, after a few minutes she had an orgasm, then the guy stood up, kept his hands holding her legs back, the girl greedily grabbing his cock and pulling it to her cunt, the guy nudging it in, then fucking her so hard her body jerked with each thrust. 

Ron slowed his hand and finally just squeezed his rigid prick for a few moments, then let it go as he stood. He picked up the chair by the back and moved to the side of the bed a couple feet from the edge of the mattress. He sat down. His voice was a raspy whisper, "Show me your cunt." He didn't look at Aunt Jean's face. He stared at the spot where he wanted her cunt to be, at the edge of the mattress. 

Surprisingly, Aunt Jean started moving, wriggling and sliding on the sheet, her hand dragging a pillow along. She turned so her crotch was in front of him but not at the edge of the mattress. She assumed the same pose she had been in, legs folded, knees up, feet flat on the sheet, her thighs open. Her wet slit and fur patch were closer but not as close as he wanted.

They both kept working their organs. Ron kept staring at her clit. It was as large as the end segment of his little finger. He didn't think a clitoris could be that big until he saw one like it in a porn vid. It was magnificent. He wanted to feel it with his tongue, wanting to kiss and suck it, wanted to drive her as nuts as she had by herself a few days ago. It took him another minute to reach the point where he needed to lick and taste her pussy no matter what. His mouth was actually salivating. 

He let go of his throbbing prick and stood again. He moved to the edge of the bed and leaned towards her pushing his arms between the backs of her angled thighs and calves. His hands palmed and gripped the tops of her thighs near her torso. He looked at her face and there was a mix of fear and anger at least in her good eye. Her hands moved and her palms pressed into the mattress to stop herself from moving. In one swift movement he yanked her towards him so her hips were at the edge of the bed, then his hands moved behind her knees. He quickly folded her legs back so her knees were very close to her shoulders as he shoved the chair back with one foot. The chair bounced back and fell over. He knelt down, and a moment later his mouth covered her wet cunt and his tongue was laving over her pink, slippery labia and her firm, incredibly large clit.

"Uh! Urrrh!" Jean's hips twisted, but she didn't say stop or even no. For a few more seconds Jean tried to push and squirm away and then her spine arched pressing the back of her head into the pillow. "Ahhhhh...... urrrmmm," she moaned, then started panting. 

He had tasted cunt one time, right before his second fuck experience. He hadn't loved it, nor did it disgust him. At the time he was pretty drunk and just wanted to get his rocks off and thought licking the girl's cunt would get her to reciprocate and do his cock. It was just a thing to do at the time. But now, he felt possessed, not only did he want to stick his tongue in Jean's cunt, lick it, diddle it, suck and rub his tongue on her incredible clit, but also wanted to make her squirm and pant and scream in orgasmic delight. He wanted to taste her and remember her flavor forever. In a non sequitur, contradictory way, he subliminally wanted to punish the daytime Aunt Jean by giving as much pleasure as he possibly could to hot Jean of the night. He also wanted to plunge his cock into her every way possible, fill every orifice she had with his hot, sticky jiz.

Jean had never felt anything like it. It was her finger but a thousand times better. It felt so good. She never wanted it to stop. She started trembling and knew it was starting. Without thinking her hands reached for his head, one hand cupping the back, the other raking her spread, curled fingers through his hair. She raised her own head. And saw his face down there on her womanhood, his eyes closed as if she tasted sweet as candy, she never thought she would feel this, she never thought she would see any guy's face down there, any man's tongue pushing into her, wriggling, squirming, lapping her. Each lick, each wet, warm, slippery movement sent shivers through her, and then she saw something greater than that, his eyes opened and looked into hers and he stayed right were he was. It was all a dream, she was high again, drunk, her mind making fantasies come true for a few minutes. His eyes look so real though, so real and he was looking at her, he was really looking at her and not turning away, not laughing, not pointing. 

Her head became too heavy and she had to let it flop back on the pillow. More shivers, more twitching, tingles so intense it traveled to her core, and then over ever square inch of her skin and all through her body, and it made her shake... squirm... jerk... Oh... more... more... more... 

He felt her hand gripping his hair as her hips squirmed straining to push her drooling cunt into his mouth.

Jean's back arched. "Ah-h-h-h-h-h.... AH... AHHHH!" Her orgasm overwhelmed her, a slice of relief, a slice of freedom, and pleasure so strong she didn't have to think, didn't have to do anything, even move her body, the pleasure did that for her as wave after wave of orgasmic delight coursed through her. It may have only been a minute or two, but the intensity of it, time was irrelevent.

When her twitching and jerking slowed, her hands disappeared from his head, and he retracted his aching, tired tongue back into his mouth. He smeared his face over her slippery slit and wet muff. He was panting, his cock was aching, his balls screaming. Just as in the porn vid, he rose to his feet kept his hands behind her knees, leaned over her and ordered, "Stick my cock in, now... stick it in." Jean twisted to get her arm between her folded legs. He watched her delicate hand guide his rod to her channel and after he nudged the head in, he immediately rammed his thick, stiff cock into her as hard as he could. Her petite body recoiled just as in the vid.

"OH!" It was something else she had wanted to feel again for so many years. She felt it retreat then plunge in, again, again, again... 

Thap... Thap... Thap... Their groins rammed together with each of Ron's thrusts

Her body lurched each time. She wasn't aware she responded with a brief moan after each plunge of Ron's thick, hard cock, "Uh... Uh... Uh..."

She tried to keep in place, but his passionate thrusts kept pushing her towards the center of the bed. His hands moved, sliding from around from the backs of her knees to where her thighs met her torso. He pulled her to the edge of the mattress again, this time he raised her legs by her ankles, forming a "V," then wrapped his arms around so his palms held the front of her thighs. He started thrusting into her again, her body recoiling from the force each time his thighs smacked against her bottom. Her hips started squirming and trying to push towards him to meet each plunge of his thick, hard rod. It was difficult getting the rhythm right. His hands moved her legs again, partially folding them, putting her petite feet flat against his chest. He pushed her with his cock, hands, and body. She started sliding farther onto the bed again. 

Ron wasn't quite sure what he should do next. The position they had been in with her legs up, hadn't been working very well. He wanted her to reach orgasm, he wanted to know he had made her feel good, he wanted to know he could bring a chick to orgasm with his cock. He wasn't sure why that seemed so important. Punishing her with pleasure? As he continued moving her, he kept trying to remember positions and how the guys in the porn vids did it. 

He let her feet down to the sheet when he got on the bed with her. He pushed and she slid, then he turned her angling her towards the headboard. They were in a missionary position, her legs bent slightly at the knees above the mattress, him between her spread thighs. His hands slid under her upper back, his palms cupped around her shoulders. She was gasping her breaths, her eyes were staring into his with an expression of fear and excitement, at least he hoped he was right about the latter. He looked at her neck then her smallish breasts and her gumdrop nipples. 

His hips started moving and his cock started sliding in and back, in and back within her very snug, very warm, very slippery cunt. He didn't ram it in, kept doing it slowly but not that slowly. Jean started pushing with her hips and legs and started meeting each probe of his throbbing cock. Her arms moved, her palms pressed against the sides of his chest. He kept moving his hips, as he gave her breasts kisses, then sucked her taut large nipples, rubbing his tongue ravenously on them. 

"Mmm-m-m-mhh," Jean moaned as her eyes closed. She felt the tempo of his sliding cock increase and she compensated with her own rocking, squirming, thrusting movements. It felt so good, so glorious. It had been so long, so very long. It really was her first time all over again, but so much better. She knew that even in her inebriated state.

He gave her arched throat a moist, breathy necklace of kisses. He pushed his face into her soft, brunette hair. He kissed her ear. He was panting. "Jean... I... I can't last much... longer."

"Yes... yes... yes..." Jean panted her words as her own movements grew more urgent.

Ron's cock picked up speed and force. His hands cupping her shoulders held her tighter. "Arrrrhhh... ahhh... jeezuz." He thrust harder and they both heard the thap-thap-thap of his groin meeting hers. A few seconds later, he was pounding his prick as deep and forcefully into her as he had at the edge of the bed. 

Her hips responded in kind. She knew she was getting close to orgasm again, but at the moment what she wanted more than that was to feel Ron reach it. She never thought it would ever happen again after her two fumbling, naive experiences with her high school boyfriend. She hadn't peaked those times, but she had felt a wonderful psychological rush knowing her boyfriend had. The boy who started dating someone else at the end of her fifth week in the hospital. Her voice was breathy and urgent, "C'mon, baby... I wanna feel it... feel you cum... cum in me... cum in me."

He shoved deep again and didn't pull back. He savagely grinded his cock inside her, and his groin against her pussy. She felt perfect around him, tight, wet, warm, so damn perfect. "Ahh..... urrrhhh.... ahh.... fu-uck!" His body clenched tight.

They both felt Ron's cock surge. Jean's legs flexed as she pushed towards Ron, her hips swaying and squirming. Her pubis grinding against his, mashing and rubbing her shivering, turgid, pink clit against his pubic bone. Waves of tingling pleasure coursed through her. She flexed her vaginal canal tight around his cock. She felt it begin quick convulsions around him beginning her own orgasm.

"Urrrrhhh.... Ronnnn... mmmmhhhh!" Jean peaked, not as intensely as she had from his tongue, but that didn't matter. She could feel each spasm of his thick manhood, and each dollop of his viscous heat spew deep in her channel. She clenched her jaw and kept grinding towards him. He had so much goop. He just kept pumping and pumping, liquid heat streamed into her. It hadn't been like this with her boyfriend at all. "Ohhhhmmmm.... ohgod... oh gahhhhd."

Ron's cock didn't deflate instantly with the last surge. He was sure there was more jiz in his reservoir. His cupped hands holding her shoulders, held tighter as he pushed his face into her profile, her hair had the fragrance of sweet herbs and flowers. He pulled back and started thrusting again.


"Oh!" The renewed thrusting surprised Jean. Her hips squirmed wildly. Her orgasm intensified. "Oh... oh Ron!" Her body started convulsing under him, completely out of her control as waves of erotic pleasure coursed and crashed through her body. She felt his body go rigid again, and once more she felt his cock surge and more liquid heat spurted deep in her snug channel. "Oh... oh god... mmmmmhhh," she moaned. She felt his body still tensed but his face moved, pushing into hair, then something happened that she thought she had less of a chance of experiencing again than sex.

Ron's torso shifted and rose on his elbows. His forearms slid under her shoulders so his palms would cup the sides of Jean's face. He looked into her eyes for a couple moments, then his face lowered. His mouth met hers. His tongue slowly slid between her soft lips and caressed her dumbfounded static tongue. Then hers started to move too and a oral erotic dance began. Her arms encircled his neck. His hands slid to the back of her head. She pressed her body towards him. He liked feeling her turgid, gumdrop nipples press into his chest. He was glad his cock was deflating slowly and was still within her. He sensed her channel grip his muscle again and he flexed his cock automatically. He felt her shiver again when he did. 

At nearly the same moment, they both thought how good it had all felt, how perfect it had been, and each knew they wanted to experience it again and again and again.

Chapter 4

They got into a routine over the next couple weeks. Every other day or so, Ron would set the blue glass on the kitchen table, then go out. When he returned around 9:00 or 10:00PM, Jean would be in her room, naked, waiting for him, half wasted on whiskey. He'd go up, undress, and they'd screw like minx. They did oral on each other, they fucked in numerous positions, Ron leading, remembering as many positions as he could from the ten porn vids he had. They usually did it twice, a couple nights they did it three times. The couple nights they only screwed once, there were a couple oral-genital orgasms to make up for it.

He continued to be very concerned about her pleasure, about her reaching orgasm. It made him feel good when she hit orgasm. About a week after the first time, he discovered something when he tried to get Jean to stop sucking his cock because he didn't want to cum in her mouth, he wanted to cum in her cunt. In her half drunken state she decided that she just had to have him gush in her mouth. She wouldn't let go and just kept sucking harder and harder as he tried to push her head away without hurting her. It struck him as very odd that he was trying to push her head away, not pulling it towards him and deep throating her as most of the guys in the porn vids did. He got her head back so she just had the head in her mouth and he couldn't believe how intensely she was sucking. After about a minute it started to hurt, then it hurt more, then even more. He palmed her forehead and pushed harder, then shouted, "GODDAMMIT! STOP! You're hurting me!" 

Jean stopped counterpushing and he was able to shove her head back. There was a loud, POP! as his cock sprang from her sucking mouth. He was angry by that point, shoved her around, got her in a half doggy position, like that first night he saw her beating off, her ass up, her head and shoulders on the mattress. He rammed his cock into her the hardest he ever had, while his hand slid under her and played with her big clit. His erotic anger started to be laced with fear. His cock no longer hurt, but the head was numbed a little. It still felt awesome inside her slippery, tight cunt though, and he noticed that slight numbing gave him more control over when he'd shoot his wad. He really liked that sense of control. 

He worked his cock from hard and fast to slow, deep and grinding from behind. He loved watching her firm cheeks absorb the shocks of the hard smacks of his groin as he plunged into her and she shoved back to meet his thrusts. He had a huge sense of accomplishment when Jean virtually went into convulsions with an intense orgasm, and his stiff throbbing cock wasn't even close to pumping his wad. They rested then screwed again trying a few new positions he recalled from porn vids, and they both reached orgasm together, Ron controlling his urge to shoot, and then actually making the decision pump his hot cream. Almost every time they were together after that, he told her to suck the head of his cock really hard.

Usually they'd keep going until 2 or 3AM when they'd both be exhausted. Jean wouldn't let him sleep with her though, no matter how much he said he wanted to. If need be, she'd push him out of her bedroom and then lock the door after he was in the hall. They didn't always fuck roughly, sometimes, usually at Ron's lead, they did it slower, almost tenderly, at least for a while, then they'd both get more and more intense, until they were screwing like animals again. Even though Jean had finger fucked her ass, and let Ron do the same, she never let him push his cock into her butt, no matter how much he begged. It was the only thing she wouldn't do. She had let him cum in her mouth once, even swallowed it. After she did that, he had licked her to an orgasm, took a break, then tongue fucked her pussy to another orgasm, another break and then they had fucked. Afterwards, it was the only time Jean drunkenly laughed, saying she should let him cum in her mouth everytime. He had laughed too.

The "mornings after" that followed the more than half dozen erotic nights, weren't noticeably different than any other morning. Jean acted as if nothing odd had occurred the night before. She didn't look at Ron straight on, didn't change her 'uniform' from the baggy T's, baggy blue jean shorts, and her socks and sneakers. Ron sort of wanted to talk about it, but was afraid if he brought it up, Aunt Jean might freak out and the nights with 'hot Jean' might stop. A couple mornings he actually wondered if she remembered the nights with him. She was always in some stage of drunkeness, but he never thought she was so wasted that the night would be a black hole in her memory. A couple times he actually wondered if she had something like a split personality, one Jean not knowing anything about what the other Jean did. He thought that was too much of a "Hollywood" explanation for it though. He finally concluded the daytime Jean had chosen to pretend the nights with him never happened.

There were changes in him though. He started eating dinner and breakfast or lunch with her a half dozen times each week. The first week he kept trying to get her to take off her glasses, or talk about her college days, or her life since college, but he never got much out of her, and she always had some excuse or just refused to take off her glasses. She also countered nearly every one of his questions with a question about him. It seemed both of them were trying to ask questions and not answer any. 

They did find out a few facts about each other, that Ron had been on the varsity football and wrestling teams, and had no idea of what to major in at college; and that Jean had been one of the salutatorians of her college graduating class, and always ran the 1st to 3rd grader group Christmas pageant. To try to get her to open up more and extend the conversations, Ron actually started helping with the dishes or cleaning up after meals, in addition to his other usual chores, like taking out the garbage and the yard work.

The second week, something seemed to happen to both of them. Each day they became less and less hesitant about opening up a little more. They even laughed together a few times. They found out more about each other, Jean, spoke at greater length about some topics they had already covered, especially about her love of teaching. She told a few funny stories about some of her little students. Ron spoke more about high school sports and how he was now coming to the conclusion his time and effort might have been better spent doing something more productive, more intellectual. He confessed he was a little concerned he had no idea of what to major in at college. Jean told him not to worry too much at this point, she had no idea either when she started college. They also began talking about movies and lighter subjects too. 

By the middle of the second week, he realized he looked forward to talking with her at meals and during the clean up afterwards. She still wouldn't take her glasses off nor look at him straight on, nor did she ever vary from wearing her "uniform." 

He knew he was ignoring or pushing the notion out of his mind when it popped into his thoughts, that what they had done and were doing was incest. He rationalized it somehow, mainly that it didn't feel like incest to him. "Hot Jean" didn't seem like an aunt to him at all. He thought of her as some weird and very hot college chick, who loved doing it with him every couple days. 

Sometimes it felt like it was all a dream. They'd screw but the next morning Jean was always Aunt Jean again, and since they never spoke of the nights together, it really did strike him at times that it might just be his imagination, even though he knew it wasn't. One morning Jean even had a hickey on her neck. 

Near the end of the second week, Ron began to admit to himself that he really liked her, but there was something odd about it. When he was with "Hot Jean" he got his rocks off, loved every sizzling moment with her, yet, sometimes even during the torrid sex, he found himself wishing at least part of the sweet, nice, "Aunt Jean" who he was beginning to know was with him in bed. There were times that second week when he was out and he'd think about being with her, not fucking "night time hot Jean," but talking and maybe even laughing with "daytime Jean." He finally realized what he really wanted to do was push his cock into the "full Jean," the "total Jean" not just the slutty, drunk, hot Jean. When he felt the desire to be with "total Jean" it disturbed him a little and he wasn't really sure why, maybe because he wasn't sure why the "total Jean" seemed so much more attractive to him. He didn't even want to consider he might be feeling more than "like" for her, nor that she was filling a huge emptiness that had been in his life. 

All that transpired over the course of seventeen days.

Chapter 5

Ron had gotten the idea the night before. When Jean left to run some errands after lunch, he set the blue glass on the table and under it he placed a cut out porn mag photo of a naked babe with a magic marker circle he had drawn around the girl's partially shaved pussy. The sides of her slit were baby smooth, but there was a small, somewhat triangular patch left at the top of her slit. He left and drove over to Josh's house, then to the mall. As they roamed the mall, Ron kept looking in the windows of all the women's clothing shops wondering what Jean would look like wearing the clothes on display. (next Chap 2)
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