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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Aunt Maria
by J.J. Lemmings (address withheld)

***

Aunt Maria is quite the looker: proportioned 
practically perfectly in every way, and with beautiful 
obsidian hair to boot. When my father's brother died, 
my parents invited Aunt Maria to stay with us until she 
could find an apartment. (F/m-teen, ped, 1st, mast, 
rom)

***

My name's not particularly relevant to this story, but 
my Aunt Maria's is. My father's brother married her 
when I was thirteen; he was twelve years younger than 
my father, and so when he was first married at twenty-
two, my father was thirty-four and had been married 
fourteen years.

Maria was a raven-haired beauty. She wasn't 
particularly large or small; and everything was 
proportioned just-so. Her bust was on the small side – 
grapefruits, not watermelons – but it was balanced by 
wide hips, a flat belly, and a smooth, rounded behind. 
Her lips were full, but not too full; her eyes were 
wide and liquid without seeming childish. Her nose was 
proud, but did not dominate her face.

In fact, the only thing about her that I did not think 
perfect when I first saw her, through a thirteen-year-
old's perpetual hormonal mist, was her hair. I thought 
her hair was beyond perfect. It was jet-black, shone in 
the light, but a closer examination (taken in 
retrospect after I hugged her to welcome her into the 
family) revealed that it was not greasy. 

When she first married Uncle George, her hair reached 
down to her waist, an obsidian waterfall. Later on, 
even after she had shorn it so it hung just below her 
perfect ears, I still thought it was the best thing 
about her, just ahead of her firm ass.

Needless to say, Aunt Maria figured prominently in my 
fantasies for months afterward. Since she and Uncle 
George lived two hundred miles away, though, I 
eventually forgot about her except at family get-
togethers; whenever I saw her, I would remember my 
earlier fantasies and have trouble getting them out of 
my head.

She was taciturn and withdrawn at the Christmas, 
Thanksgiving, and Easter reunions, although she would 
laugh at jokes and crack very subtle ones herself every 
now and again. The only person she ever smiled at was 
Uncle George, except for my baby brother. In short, she 
was an unreachable, untouchable idol for my teenage 
self.

Then, when I was sixteen, Uncle George was killed in a 
car accident. I was absolutely devastated: he'd been my 
favorite uncle, the one who always took me out fishing, 
the one who would joke and mess around with me when all 
the adults were busy. He was that family uncle who 
isn't really an uncle, but another kid you can play 
with.

At the funeral, I didn't think at all about Aunt Maria; 
looking back, I remember that she sat alone, off to the 
side, waving away anybody who came to try to comfort 
her. She looked (in my memory) like a woman carved from 
ice. At the time, though, I saw everything through a 
fog of bereaved grief.

Several months after my seventeenth birthday, my 
parents announced that Aunt Maria was going to live 
with us for a while until she could find a job and an 
apartment. It was a few months before she moved in. Of 
course, I helped her move the two and a half hours from 
her old home to ours, and in the course of the drive, I 
found myself sitting alone in a car with her.

Old fantasies came crowding up, and I found myself 
surreptitiously adjusting my pants so my penis wouldn't 
stick out at odd angles. She said nothing, and we just 
regarded the passing cornfields in silence, not 
attempting to make small talk. Looking back, I think I 
detect a slight smirk creasing those perfect lips, but 
perhaps it's just imagination coloring a memory.

She moved in with us, and everything was good for a 
month or so. Now for embarrassing incident #1. I was 
still in the habit of masturbating nightly into my 
sheets, rather than doing the nasty deed with my hand. 
Every now and again, when my parents were out of the 
house with my younger brother, I would permit myself 
the luxury of spreading my comforter on the ground and 
humping it until I came. 

Naturally, when Maria and my parents were out of the 
house one Saturday afternoon, I jumped at the chance, 
pulled the comforter off my bed and was face-down, 
feeling the rough carpet texture through the smooth 
down-filled blanket, fantasizing about – who else? -- 
Aunt Maria.

I heard a door shut, and I froze in mid-thrust, 
listening for footsteps. Before I knew what to do, I 
heard my door squeaking, and I looked forward. Behind 
the swiftly-closing door, there was a pair of bare feet 
and wide hips – and that's as far as I got before the 
door shut all the way. Someone had been standing there 
staring at me, completely naked, with my hands under me 
and my ass ridiculously clenched, for God only knew how 
long. Of course, it wasn't my mother – I knew her too 
well, and I knew Maria's body too well. That night at 
dinner, Maria smirked at me, and I didn't look at her 
again the entire meal.

I had my computer in my bedroom, and I had made the 
tactical mistake of facing the monitor toward the door. 
I couldn't look at porn unless I constantly glanced 
back over my shoulder to make doubly sure the door was 
still closed. Unless, of course, everyone was out of 
the house.

I should have learned from Embarrassing Incident #1 
that Aunt Maria was apt to come home early or 
unexpectedly on Saturday afternoons, but it had been a 
month, and when you're seventeen, humiliation wears off 
quickly. Thus, Embarrassing Incident #2: I was 
streaming some porn and had my dick in my hand, with a 
bottle of lotion to the side for lubrication, when 
someone behind me yelled “YAH!” and clapped hands to my 
shoulders.

I must have jumped thirty feet, although I don't recall 
my head hitting the ceiling. When my heart rate had 
slowed enough to permit movement without bursting it, I 
turned my head. Maria, her body shaking with laughter, 
was walking out of my room. The last glimpse I had of 
her before she closed the door was her wide, firm ass.

No jacking off then, naturally: I had lost every inch 
of that erection, and it seemed like my penis wanted to 
crawl back into my belly. The first thing I did was put 
clothes on; the second was move the computer so I could 
see the door over the monitor.

That night at dinner, Aunt Maria was smirking at me 
again, and I didn't even try to make eye contact. If I 
had, I think I would have noticed that there was no 
accusation in those wide, beautiful eyes; there was 
only mocking laughter.

Time passed; three months later, Aunt Maria moved out 
into her own apartment. I was now two and a half months 
shy of my eighteenth birthday. The email came as a 
surprise to me, four months later. It was from Maria, 
and invited me out to her apartment for a movie. Half 
my current fantasies began this way, but I shoved them 
out of my head. She was just a friendly (ex-)Aunt, 
wanting to spend time with her nephew, right?

I didn't bother to tell my parents where I was going: 
they were out of town with my brother for the weekend. 
It was, of course, a Saturday evening. They wouldn't be 
back for twenty-four hours. Aunt Maria's apartment was 
small and sparsely decorated, with a three-cushion 
couch lining one wall of the main room and the 
television on the other. She was wearing a loose, knee-
length skirt and a blouse that didn't quite show any 
cleavage: conservative wear, overall. Things were 
definitely not going according to fantasy.

She put on The Departed, hit the lights, drew the 
blinds, and sat down next to me. After taking off my 
shoes and socks at the door by her request, I had 
plopped down right in the middle of the couch: the 
better to sit square in front of the TV.

Matt Damon was just graduating from the police academy 
when I felt her scoot over closer to me. Her thigh was 
firmly against mine. I felt my heart palpitate, and I 
wasn't sure what to do with my hands. For a while, she 
did nothing; then, as Leonardo DiCaprio was being 
grilled by the jackass assistant to Martin Sheen, I 
felt her gently rest her head against my shoulder.

Oh God. This was weird. What to do? After another ten 
minutes, she solved the problem by grabbing my arm and 
putting it around her shoulders. There should have been 
no doubt as to her intentions, but I was freshly 
eighteen and doubt was bubbling up like Saudi oil. I 
kept my arm limp, afraid that if I moved, I'd ruin the 
nice dream.

Maria sighed, and if I'd been looking, I suspect she 
was rolling her eyes. Then she put one hand on my 
opposite cheek, turning my head toward her. I regarded 
her for an instant, and she looked solemnly at me, then 
seized me with her other hand, lunged forward, and 
planted a kiss squarely on my lips.

I was startled out of my mind and toppled backward – 
which was along the length of the couch. Maria followed 
me, and a second or two later, was lying on top of me 
with her lips pressed against mine. I could have moved 
her with some effort, but I didn't – why the fuck would 
I have wanted to, anyway?

I knew how to kiss, but wasn't an expert by any means; 
it was enough for Maria, regardless. She was hot in my 
arms and squirmed against me, moaning into my mouth. 
Her eyes were closed. Then – wonder of wonders! -- I 
felt her hands at my waistline undoing the clasps to my 
pants. My penis was quite erect. In fact, it was more 
erect than I think it had ever been before.

After my little warrior sprang free, lying flat 
pointing toward my belly button, she reached up under 
her skirt and pulled her panties down. At least, that's 
what I assume she was doing; I was simply kissing her 
back as best I knew how. She sat up, straddling me 
awkwardly on the cramped couch, threw her underwear 
over her shoulder, and began to grind her pussy against 
my penis. It was wet and I could feel soft hairs 
against my own pubic hair to the side. There was also 
the little knob of her clitoris rubbing up and down the 
length of my shaft.

She was leaning forward, back arched and head thrown 
back, lips half-parted in an endless gasp. I responded 
with enthusiasm, moving my hips against hers as I 
caressed her lower back and sides. She bent down to 
kiss me, then began moving her hips faster, almost 
bouncing up and down. Throwing her head back, she let 
out a strangled breath, then slumped down on me, 
panting.

By this time, I was breathing heavily, and I moved to 
try to enter her; but she stopped me by standing up. 
Her hair was wildly disarrayed, and she seemed to be 
glowing. Wordlessly, she took my hand and led me back 
toward her bedroom. The Departed was still playing.

When we got there, she drew the blinds, then turned and 
regarded me, smirking. I looked down at myself – 
ridiculous! I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, except 
the shorts were undone, and my penis was poking half-
erect out of my boxers. It wilted a bit more under her 
gaze, until she came forward, and, again without saying 
anything, pulled her skirt down, then her blouse off. 
The only thing she was wearing was a white bra, which 
she expertly snapped off. I remember noting the 
afternoon shadow in her armpits as she reached back.

There in front of me stood a naked woman. I looked at 
her, and suddenly realized I was almost panting with 
desperate desire. My penis was almost vertical and 
quivering. I pulled off the T-shirt, and then as fast 
as possible, pulled down the short and worked my penis 
through the boxers. Then I encircled her with my arms 
and kissed her, kissed her hard. 

She responded, of course; her nipples were hard against 
my chest, and as I leaned into the kiss, I couldn't 
help but rub my penis against her smooth belly. She 
smiled at this, then grabbed my ass and pulled me 
closer, hungry for more. I leaned into her, and she 
arched her back until I was supporting some of her 
weight with my arms – one around the small of her back, 
one around the shoulders. One of my legs found its way 
between hers, and as I humped gently into her belly, 
she started to grind against my thigh once more.

The sensation was exquisite. I pushed her back toward 
the bed, and she willingly went, and dropped back, 
pulling me onto her. Her legs were spread, and I pushed 
my penis against her swollen pussy. It didn't go in, 
but angled up and over her clitoris. I pushed against 
her, and she pushed back, sopping wet and cradled in my 
arms.

Her breasts were firm and pert, with dark brown nipples 
standing out. I bent down, pulling my dick back for a 
minute, and gave attention to her tits for a little 
bit. Taking them into my mouth, rolling them with my 
tongue, then gently scraping with my teeth left her 
moaning and arching her back, squeezing my torso 
between her thighs. She was raking her fingers across 
my back, and I could feel the hair in her crotch 
grating across my belly, along with the wet, hot spot. 
I moved my grasp down to support her lower back, which 
she was arching off the bed; she held herself on her 
shoulders.

After both nipples were soaked and looked to be 
standing painfully, she pulled my head forcibly up to 
hers, and we kissed, long and hard. I was desperate 
with lust; she mirrored my desire, and as we ground our 
mouths against each other, our tongues lashed. Then I 
felt her reach down, grab my penis, and put my head at 
the entrance to her vagina. It was wet, wet – I 
instinctively pushed. She squirmed, moaned, and then I 
slid in as easily as I could slide into my hand when I 
masturbated.

I gasped. But this was not masturbating! Warm, wet, 
uniform tightness surrounded me; I felt the almost-
peeing sensation already, that always preceded orgasm 
in masturbation. I couldn't think, couldn't feel; 
everything was wrapped in the bundle of sensation from 
my penis. Looking down at her, I saw her eyes were 
closed, and she was breathing shallowly. Rosy blush 
covered her face, the tops of her breasts. I pulled 
out, pushed back in, and her eyes opened, fixed on 
mine. Her half-open mouth curved in a smile, and she 
wiggled her hips. 

I held my weight on my arms, ignoring the muscles 
already screaming. Out – in – out – in – the rhythm was 
endless, and I tuned everything out, everything except 
the feeling of hot, wet sliding tightness surrounding 
my penis, pulling it; everything except the gasps and 
moans and panting, the urgent grinding of two sweating 
bodies pushing against and into each other.

She moved her hips up to meet me, ground her clitoris 
into the base of my penis at each thrust; I, for my 
part, pushed in and pulled out, over and over again. My 
abdomen burned, but I didn't care; my triceps were sore 
twice over, but I didn't care. In and out, in and out, 
grunting with the effort and the pleasure. Sweat 
dripped from my forehead down my nose; when I kissed 
her, I could taste our mingled saltiness. 

Her eyes were closed; mine were too, most all the time. 
As the rhythm, with halting stops now and again to 
adjust or take a quick breath, increased, she placed 
her hands on my butt-cheeks, pushing, urging me into 
her. I held her shoulders and pulled myself; her legs, 
her perfect, beautiful legs were locked around the 
backs of my thighs.

We were both gasping for breath with each thrust. I 
couldn't think of anything except the next push, felt 
the tightening in my penis, the testicles rising toward 
the crotch. At the top of the next thrust, she arched 
her back convulsively, held me inside of her as she 
twisted her hips and ground her clitoris into the base 
of my penis. I could feel the muscles in her vagina 
contracting, an exquisite sensation – and then she 
collapsed, went from taut desire to languid rest. 

But I pushed on, near the edge – a couple of more 
thrusts, and my world vanished in light for an instant. 
The contractions wracked my whole body, were immense, 
world-changing gongs sounding one after other. I 
collapsed onto her, feeling our bodies slide in the 
slick sweat, exhausted. In what must have been less 
than a minute, I was asleep.

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 51