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Archive name: estelle.txt (F/b, mast, intr, ped)
Authors name: Bill Barnett (bboy1tx@lycos.com)
Story title : Aunt Estelle

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Aunt Estelle (bboy1tx@lycos.com)
by Bill Barnett (F/b, mast, intr, ped)

***

True story of a young boy coming of age in 1950's small 
Georgia town.

***

I was born in a small town in Georgia in 1940. My Mom and 
Dad owned the only grocery store in town and worked 6 
days a week from 7 in the morning until 6 at night. I was 
an only child and was cared for by my Aunt Estelle.

Aunt Estelle was not really my aunt. She was a black lady 
who took care of me before and after school, cleaned the 
house, washed clothes and cooked supper every day. She 
lived on the other side of town and walked over every 
morning before Mom and Dad left and Dad took her home 
every night. I don't know when Aunt Estelle went to work 
for Mom and Dad, but for as long as I could remember she 
had been around.

During the final days of school when I had just turned 
12, I discovered girls. This happened quite suddenly one 
afternoon on the way home from school. I was taking a 
short cut through a patch of woods on a vacant lot 
between Mulberry St. and Oak Street where I lived. I 
heard some noise and giggling from behind a bunch of big 
bushes and peeked through the limbs to see what was going 
on. There was an older boy and girl in the bushes.

The girl was lying on her back and her dress was pulled 
up. The boy was on top of her with his pants and 
underwear pulled down to just above his knees. His butt 
went up and down and they both made noises like they were 
hurting each other. In a minute or two the boy made some 
really funny grunting noises and just kind of collapsed 
on the girl. They lay there for a few minutes without 
moving and then the boy rolled off the girl. 

I had never seen between a woman's legs nor had I ever 
seen female pubic hair. The girl took a handkerchief 
pocket and wiped the area between her legs. In doing so 
she opened them up real wide and I could see the hair 
covered a pair of big lips positioned right between her 
legs. When the girl finished they went on their way 
without seeing me.

I thought about this all the way home and noticed the 
more I thought about it the more my little pecker grew. I 
thought then that my pecker only grew at night so I 
wouldn't pee in the bed. That's what Aunt Estelle told me 
when I was about 6 when I asked her why it was big every 
morning when I got up.

When I got home Aunt Estelle had a big piece of pie and a 
glass of milk waiting for me in the kitchen. She was 
cooking supper and after she handed me the milk she went 
out on the back porch with some potatoes in a bowl. She 
would peel these while she sat on the back porch and 
"caught some air" as she always said.
Even though we lived in town, our back yard was big and 
secluded. There were giant Oak trees and huge hedges 
across both sides and the back of the property. 

The back porch was good sized and Aunt Estelle always sat 
on a bench to do her kitchen work as she called it. She 
would sit there peeling vegetables or shelling peas with 
a bowl in her lap. When she finished, she would pull her 
dress up and open her legs to catch some air. I had seen 
her do this a thousand times, but until today what was 
under her dress and between her legs had never interested 
me.

When I finished my pie and milk I ran out the back door 
and bounded off the porch heading straight for my tire 
swing. As I swung back and forth, I watched Aunt Estelle 
on the porch. As she peeled those potatoes, I looked at 
her for probably the first time. She was about 45 years 
old and had 3 grown children. I don't know if she ever 
had a husband, but I know she lived by herself in a small 
house. She was not fat, but I do remember that her hips 
were wide and her breasts were big.

When she finished peeling the potatoes and pulled her 
dress up, I got off the swing and headed for the porch. I 
sat down on the steps and leaned back against the post 
just like I'd done a thousand times, probably every day 
of my life. But, today was different. I had never before 
tried to look up her dress before. 

Her legs were open wide and her dress was pulled up way 
above her knees. Aunt Estelle was looking at the birds in 
the back yard and telling me the Humming birds would be 
back soon. I was not really listening because my eyes 
were glued to the area between her legs. She was not 
wearing underwear and because her legs were open so wide, 
I could see all the way up.

Not only was there a great deal of thick black hair, but 
Aunt Estelle had two sets of lips between her legs. One 
set was big and fat like I saw on the girl. But Aunt 
Estelle had a smaller set of lips inside the bigger ones. 
The smaller set was not nearly as big. They were kind of 
flat and stuck out about an inch. My little pecker 
started to grow. In a few minutes Aunt Estelle went back 
in the house and I sat there for a while and then went 
back to my swing.

The next day on the way home from school, I took the 
short cut again, but the boy and girl weren't there. I 
hurried on home to get another peek up my Aunt's dress. 
On the third day when I got to the porch instead of 
sitting down, I walked up between my Aunt's legs and 
hugged her around the neck as I'd done countless times 
before. This was nothing new to her, but it was to me 
because I had more on my mind than a hug.

The bench was tall and when I pressed against her my 
crotch was pressed against hers. I hugged her for a 
moment and she picked me up and sat me on her left leg. 
In the process her dress rode up quite high on her thigh. 
She told me she loved me and we talked for a few minutes. 
I had my arm around her neck and could feel her big left 
breast pressing on my chest. My pecker started to get 
hard.

Aunt Estelle said she needed to get on with her supper 
and so I slid off her leg and before I let her up I 
reached up and gave her another hug. I pressed my body 
close to hers and suddenly felt Aunt Estelle tense up. 
She didn't move for a few moments, then gently took my 
arms from around her neck, pushed me back a little, and 
pulled her dress down.

Aunt Estelle closed her legs and patted her lap 
indicating for me to sit on her lap.

"What'eryou doing here Bobby," she asked.

"Nothing."

Why is your little pecker hard and why is you pressing it 
against me.
Boy, who been showing you that stuff?"

"Nobody."

"Boy, you lie to me and I'm gonna tell your Momma."

"Please don't," I begged.

"Well where you learning that stuff?"

I told her the whole story. She asked how long I had been 
looking up her skirt. She asked me if I knew what to do 
about it when my pecker got hard. She asked if Dad had 
ever told me about the birds and the bees. I told her the 
truth about looking up her dress and said I had no idea 
what do about my pecker and the truth was my Dad very 
seldom talked to me and he sure never said nothing about 
birds.

Aunt Estelle told me to go up to my room and let her 
think about this for a few minutes. I knew I was dead if 
Mom and dad found out what I'd done.

I sat on the edge of my bed in fear for what seemed like 
all morning. I heard Aunt Estelle come up the stairs and 
go into the hall bathroom. In a few moments she came into 
my room. She had a big jar of Vaseline in her right hand 
and a wet washrag in her left hand. She sat down on the 
bed beside me.

"Don't you never tell anybody what I'm gonna show you. 
Its gonna be our secret. I'm gonna show you how a nice 
young man handles the problems of his pecker. That thing 
can get you in a lot of trouble if you don't treat it 
right."

With that Aunt Estelle stood me up by the bed and removed 
my overalls and underwear. I stood before her ashamed and 
naked. My pecker was so shriveled up it was drawn up 
completely into my stomach. The only thing visible was 
the pointed and wrinkled little foreskin on the very end.

Aunt Estelle got up and pulled her dress above her waist 
reveling her massive black bush. She sat back down on the 
edge of the bed and opened her legs wide. My pecker began 
to relax and come back to life. Aunt Estelle reached out 
and took it gently in her right hand and rubbed it very 
softly. It began to grow. 

She pulled back the foreskin revealing the little purple 
head hiding underneath. She took a small amount of 
Vaseline and rubbed it between her thumb and index 
finger. She placed my pecker between these two digits and 
began to move them very slow and softly up and down the 
head of my pecker.

I had never felt anything so great in all my life. I just 
about fell as my knees got weak. In a few minutes, Aunt 
Estelle gave me the jar of Vaseline and told me to put 
some on my hand and do it myself, but go slow and be 
gentle.

She told me not to do it too long or I would get sore. 
She said that eventually when I got older my pecker would 
tell me when it was time to stop because it would spit at 
me when it was tired. Within two weeks, it was spitting 
at me every day.

Aunt Estelle never sat on the back porch "catching a 
breeze" anymore. She and I never had any other sexual 
contact. I guess she saw what she did as a way to keep a 
little boy she loved out of trouble.

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not "real life." Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 19