To: louvre@dido.fa.indiana.edu
Subject: SUBMIT aunt_pamela06.txt



Article 32710 of alt.sex.stories:
From: an99635@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue, 30 Aug 1994 12:21:30 UTC
Subject: Aunt Pamela by Ken Bristol 6/21 (mf, ff, incest, dom, nc)

                     FIVE
Bobby didn't understand it. In the midst of this family
crisis, his mom had decided to invite his aunt over for
dinner. His sister was sticking to her story about
being raped, and his parents both believed her, no
matter how much Bobby had pleaded that she had led him
on. Neither Mary Beth nor Bobby had admitted anything
about any previous sexual encounters, and Bobby didn't
even try to explain that they had been playing a sexual
game, so his story wasn't at all convincing. He had
finally given up trying to talk to his mother, and his
father was so angry he could barely stand to be in the
same room with him.
     And now, he was going to have to deal with an
outsider. He liked Aunt Pamela well enough, but she was

such a formal person. His mother's younger sister had
never married and gone into the real estate business.
Now she had two offices in town and a flock of agents
working for her. He usually saw her in a business suit
with her hair in a bun, accentuating the regal planes
of her face. And she acted businesslike most of the
time, never getting too excited, always cool, maybe a
little detached. She was a stickler for politeness in
Bobby and Mary Beth, and always gently but firmly
corrected them when they forgot their manners with her.
Now they'd all have to act like nothing was going on,
and of course they can't carry that off, so they'll all
sit around stiff, and there'll be awkward silences and
boring discussions of safe topics... The thought made
Bobby's skin crawl. Here he was all torn up with shame
at what he'd done, even more shame at being caught,
anger at his sister for putting all the blame off on
him, and frustration with his parents for believing her
instead of him. He was as full of nervous energy as if
he'd downed four cups of coffee at a sitting, and he
was going to have to push it all inside and appear
calm. Shit!
     He dressed in his nice wool slacks and a clean
sport shirt, buffing his good shoes but not bothering
to apply new polish. The doorbell rang. He went to
answer it, knowing his mom was busy in the kitchen. On
the way he ran into Mary Beth, who ignored him. He
looked at the way she was dressed and got angry all
over again. The simple white frock and understated
makeup made his sister look like a choir girl, like a
sacrificial virgin, like a innocent, but Bobby knew
what a two-faced bitch she was...
     Still angry, he jerked open the front door. Pamela
stared at him with a startled expression on her face
that gradually solidified into an unspoken demand for
an explanation or an apology. Bobby chose the latter:
"Oh, sorry, Aunt Pamela. I guess I was in too much of a
hurry. Please come in."
     Pamela swept by him as he held the door, giving
him a sidelong glance. She headed for the kitchen with
Bobby trailing behind. Pamela dashed forward and hugged
Bobby's mother, Connie, getting a little flour on her
suit in the process. Bobby thought their greeting was
more restrained than usual. They always seemed so close
to him, which was surprising considering what different
persons they were. They were the same height and
coloring, but Connie's soft, voluptuous body contrasted
with Pamela's lean, athletic figure, her loose, relaxed
hairstyle with Pamela's severe one. Pamela dressed like
a businesswoman, but Connie had given up her job when
she got married, busied herself with volunteer work,
and dressed in Madison's version of Junior League
style. The women began to talk in low tones, not
exactly excluding Bobby from the conversation, but
making no attempt to bring in into it. He got the
message and went to his room, where he lay on the bed
wishing he were somebody else.
                *           *             *
The dinner was just as bad as Bobby had feared. His
sister sat beside him looking angelic as she prattled
on about how much she was looking forward to going to
college in the fall. Pamela sat across from him; every

so often Bobby thought he noticed her looking at him
with an evaluative expression on her face. She seemed
cool and a bit aloof, but at the same time focused on
him in a manner that made him even more uneasy. He felt
like a bug under a microscope. Not being involved in
the conversation, he tuned out...
     Until he heard Pamela say, "Connie, I've decided
that it will be all right with me. You'd better talk to
Bobby, though."
     Bobby came back to earth with a jolt. Talk about
what? He wished he'd been paying enough attention to
know what Aunt Pamela was talking about.
     His mother looked wary. She turned to Bobby's
father, a florid, fleshy man not given to unnecessary
speech or displays of emotion. "Ed," she said with a
hint of pleading in her voice, "Why don't you tell
Bobby what we've been talking about?"
     The phlegmatic man at the head of the table
cleared his throat and put down his fork. "Bobby, your
mother and I have talked, and we've decided that some
things will have to change now. We don't think it would
be right for you and Mary Beth to live in the same
house, at least until Mary Beth goes away to college in
the fall. You have already shown that you aren't to be
trusted in some areas, and we don't have any confidence
that there won't be a repetition of the, er, incident
that just happened. Maybe Mary Beth could have stopped
you, but you were the person who caused the problem, so
we think you should be the one to leave the house. You
can do one of two things. One, you can finish out your
school year at that military academy we looked at last
year -- the one in Indiana -- and then stay there for
the summer term, either returning here in the fall and
going back to Madison Central, or graduating and going
on to college. Or, you can live with Aunt Pamela until
the fall. We've asked her if she would take you in and
look after you, and she has agreed to do so. I'm sorry,
I know that it seems like we're rejecting you and
throwing you out of the house, but we really don't mean
it that way. We just can't take the chance of a
repetition of what happened. We wouldn't be being good
parents if we let that happen, and it certainly
wouldn't be fair to Mary Beth." He didn't sound angry,
but Bobby figured that he was just putting on a good
show.
     After making one of the longest speeches that
Bobby had heard from him, Ed ground to a halt. He
remained with his elbows on the table and his hands
folded into a tent as he watched Bobby through pale
blue eyes.
     Bobby felt his face flush with anger and shame.
Tears of frustration sprang to his eyes. He jerked
himself to his feet, knocking his chair backwards to
the floor, and ran blindly out of the room.
     A few minutes later, his mother found him sobbing
on his bed. She rubbed his back lovingly. Bobby relaxed
with a sigh.
     Connie spoke gently. "I'm sorry, Bobby. We still
love you. I love you. We don't know what else to do. It
probably won't be for very long. Please understand."
     Bobby's mother massaged his back and shoulders. He
felt the cool, strong hands pressing, kneeling, and
stroking him through his shirt. When she leaned over
him, her hair fell against his cheek; it smelled like
Mary Beth's. Connie pressed her thumbs together at the
small of his back and slowly drew them apart and down.

Bobby caught himself hoping she'd slid her thumbs under
the belt of his pants. His prick grew heavy and thick.
She bent to kiss his cheek, and her scent was so like
his sister's that he wanted to turn and kiss his
mother's lips, to open them with his tongue and to sip
her nectar. He wanted to touch her heavy woman's
breasts, to weigh them in his hands and to suckle at
their thick, chewy nipples. He wanted to slide his
tongue down her belly until he reached her thick dark
bush, then to find her damp, pungent nest and lick the
lips until they spread welcomingly. He wanted to make
his mother pant, to moan, to sweat, to writhe, and
ultimately to convulse helplessly under his tongue. He
realized that it was time to get out of there.
To: louvre@dido.fa.indiana.edu
Subject: SUBMIT aunt_pamela07.txt


Article 32696 of alt.sex.stories:
From: an99635@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue, 30 Aug 1994 10:52:39 UTC
Subject: Aunt Pamela by Ken Bristol 7/21

                          SIX
Burdened by two suitcases. Bobby stumbled up the stairs
to Aunt Pamela's front porch. He dropped them on the
grey floorboards and caught his breath. His parents had
refused to drive him over, and he'd had to walk the
eight or nine blocks. His arms ached, and the exercise
combined with the warm spring day had caused him to
sweat through his tee-shirt. Taking a deep breath, he
rang the doorbell.
     After a few moments, Bobby heard steps behind the
door; he straightened up and tried to look his best.
The latch turned, and the door swung open. Pamela did
not smile as she stood aside and waved her hand to
invite him in.
     "Just leave you bags here," she said in an even
voice, "and come into the living room for a minute."
     Pamela sat on the couch. Bobby started to do the
same, but she stopped him, saying, "I'd prefer that you
stand in front of me." She spoke slowly and seriously.
"I want you to understand that you are here
voluntarily. You may not like your choices, but you do
have choices, and one of them is leaving here. Should
you decide that's what you want, I won't stand in your
way or talk you out of it. I want you here only if you
want to be here. You can leave now, or at any time you
choose. All I ask is that you tell me first. There's
just one thing you need to know about your leaving: if
you go, you can't come back. Is that clear?"
     "I guess so," replied Bobby while examining the
rug.
     Pamela ignored his manners, and began to lecture
him. "Your mother told me about the incident with your
sister. She also told me that you tried to lie your way
out of it. I've agreed to take you in for a while, but
only if you agree to work at improving your faults. Do
you understand?"
     Bobby noted Pamela's high-necked white silk
blouse, her generously-cut charcoal wool skirt, and the
way her dark-brown hair was pulled back into a bun. Her
high cheekbones, aristocratic features and her simple
makeup reinforced the impression of severity that made
him nervous. "Y..yes, ma'am," he stuttered in reply.
     "Good. I've thought about it, and I've decided
that the things you need to work on are self-discipline
and humility. Your need for self-discipline is obvious:
you couldn't control yourself with your own sister.
Your lying about what happened means that put yourself
before the truth, your sister, and ultimately your
family. Your ego is too inflated, and if you learn some

humility you won't do things like that. Do you follow
me?"
     "Yes'm"
     "I told your mother that I would try to help you,
but I must have your cooperation. For your own good,
you must follow my instructions exactly as long as you
are in this house. You must do what I say, when I say
it. Are you willing to obey me?"
      Bobby realized that he didn't have much choice
except to go along. "Yes, Aunt Pamela," he responded.
     "That's good. I'll show you to your room now."
     Bobby picked up his bags and followed Pamela down
the second floor hall. She led him to a small,
sparsely-furnished bedroom, and opened the drapes. At
her instructions, Bobby sat on the bed as Pamela opened
one of the bureau drawers. She pulled out a garment,
and handed it to Bobby. "I'll give you some time to
unpack -- an hour should be enough. Then I want you
take off all your clothes and put this on, and come
down to the living room."
     Bobby inspected the garment briefly, then
complained, "But this is a pair of panties! I'm a guy;
I can't wear these."
     "I'm going to forgive that outburst since this is
new to you, but I want you to know that it can't
continue. You will put those panties on, and come down
to the living room wearing them and nothing else. I am
not in the habit of explaining myself, but again I will
make and exception because you're just starting out
with this. One of your problems is a lack of humility.
Part of that is your big male ego. Wearing women's
underwear will eventually train some of that ego out of
you. I expect no further back talk. Do you understand?"
     Bobby nodded and stared at the floor. Pamela
walked stiffly out of the room and closed the door
behind her.
                *           *             *
Pamela sat on the couch reading a magazine when Bobby
came down the stairs. She was pleased at her progress
so far -- Bobby had agreed to her degrading dress code
with only perfunctory back talk -- but she was anxious
about the next few minutes. Bobby paused tentatively at
the living-room door and cleared his throat. Pamela had
heard him on the stairs, but she waited until then to
look up from her reading. Although she kept her
expression impassive, she smiled inwardly at the sight
he presented, standing nervously in his modestly cut
white panties, his male equipment making a bulge in the
front. His youth and poorly-masked innocence excited
her greatly.
     "Come here," she said sternly, pointing to a spot
about six feet in front of her.
     Bobby shuffled over in his bare feet, and stood in
front of her. His hips were cocked to one side in a
vain attempt to shield his manhood from her gaze.
     "Stand up straight and face me," she ordered. Put
your hands behind your back.
     Bobby squared his hips and pulled himself up into
a semblance of good posture.
     "Shoulders back."
     While not achieving a military bearing, Bobby did
the best he could.
     "That's better. Let me tell you about some of the
rules around here. You will come straight home from
school, and you will go nowhere else beside school,
unless I give you permission to do otherwise. You will
not go out in the evenings or on weekends without my
permission, and you will keep your room neat and tidy
at all times."
     "Now we need to have a talk about discipline,
especially sexual discipline, which appears to a
problem for you. First let me explain something. You
can think anything you like, and it's alright with me.
It's alright with everybody else in the world too,
because they can't know what you're thinking unless you
tell then, or act on your thoughts in some way. Where
the problems start is when you do or say things. That's
where you need to discipline yourself. You can think
the dirtiest, most salacious thoughts you want as long
as you control yourself. Does that make sense to you?"
     "Yes'm"
     "Good. Now let's discuss your sexual habits. How
often do you masturbate?"
     "Ma'am?"
     Pamela admired the blush that began in Bobby's
cheeks and spread to his chest. "You heard me. How many
times a day, on average?"
     "Um...I guess once or twice."
     "And what's your record?"
     "Huh?"
     Pamela admired the beet-red color of Bobby's face.
Was there a stirring beneath the panties? "How many
times have you ejaculated in one 24-hour period?"
     "Five or six, I guess."
     "Yes, I think some increased discipline is in
order. I have some new rules for you. From now on, you
will not masturbate at all unless I give you
permission. I will supervise your sexual release. If I
find that you have disobeyed me, I will punish you. Is
that clear?"
     Bobby was astounded, but he swallowed hard and
responded meekly, "Yes, ma'am."
     "Now I know that this will be hard for you, and I
don't intend to suppress your sexuality completely. I
will make appropriate arrangements from time to time."
     Confusion replaced surprise and fear as Bobby's
principal emotion. Did that mean she would help him get
off?
     Pamela examined Bobby's crotch. There were
definite twitching as Bobby's cock strove to straighten
itself under the thin nylon. This was working out fine;
now it was time to change to subject. Sometimes a
little ambiguity was a good thing.
     "Now on to humility," she said, "Come over here
and kneel in front of the couch."
     Bobby complied, glad to have his private parts
removed from the center of his aunt's vision.
     "Now Bobby, it's time for your first lesson in
humility. You are going to have to do some things that
you're not going to like, but I promise you that you
will learn from them. By placing you in humiliating,
even degrading, circumstances, I will teach you to
surpress your ego. Are you ready for your first
lesson?"
     Pamela reached down to her knees and raised her
skirt, spreading her legs slightly at the same time.
Bobby tried to look at her crotch, but the light was
bad and he could just see the dim white of her panties.

Pamela spoke to him in an even, commanding voice.
"Bobby, I want you to put your face against my crotch.
I don't want you to do anything else. You may feel a
desire to lick me or kiss me, but I want you to
surpress that craving. Put your head under my skirt."
     Bobby ducked under the hem, and settled in with
his face between Pamela's legs. She felt his breath
against her, and suppressed a fierce urge to grab his
ears and grind her cunt into his face. She gently held
his head through the skirt. In a little softer tone,
she continued. "Now I'll guide you to the right place."
She moved his head until his nose pressed against her
clitoris and his mouth was at the entrance to her cunt.
She had to tip his head back in order to achieve
contact in both places, but was pleased at the thought
that some discomfort should be part of his experience.
She admonished him, "Just stay right there until I tell
you you can move while I read a little."
     He felt her rest the magazine against his forehead
as he surrendered himself to the perfumed darkness. Her
pungent odor was strong in his nostrils. He felt her
soft pussy hair through the thin nylon. She seemed damp
under his mouth, but he couldn't tell if the cause was
her secretions or his hot breath. He breathed in
through his nose so he could smell her better, and out
through his mouth because he thought it might excite
her. He had only the dimmest idea of what might happen
if she got turned on, but it seemed like a good thing
to do.
     Pamela knew what was causing the wetness, and she
knew there would be more when the juices that were
already filling her pussy leaked out. She knew she
couldn't do anything about that, but she told herself
to be sure that she didn't give the boy any other clues
about how hot she was getting. No wiggles, no pants, no
moans, she thought; I need to stay in character.
     After several minutes she put down the magazine
and spoke to him: "Can you smell me?"
     "Yes," he mumbled into her pussy.
     She inhaled sharply. "Yes, what?"
     "I'm sorry. Yes, ma'am."
     "That's better. You may call me ma'am or you may
call my Aunt Pamela, but you must talk to me
respectfully."
     "Yes'm"
     "Do I smell very strong?"
     "Yes, Aunt Pamela, you do."
     "There's a reason for that. Ever since I agreed to
let you come to my house, I've changed into the same
pair of panties every time I came home. For five days
now, I've worn these panties around the house so they'd
be nice and ripe for you. I thought it would be more
humiliating for you to press your face against my
soiled panties than if they were clean. So just think
about how dirty they are as you bury yourself in them."
     "There's something else. It will do your male ego
some good if you learn to respect women more. So while
you're kneeling there with your face in my lap, I'd
like you to get into the idea of worshipping my vagina.
It's the center of womanhood, and you need to
respectfully adore it."
     "Think of both things at once. You're sitting
there with your mouth and nose pressed into my soiled
underclothes. It's dirty, yet you keep on doing it. At
the same time, underneath my dirty panties is my warm
vagina. You love it, and want to show your respect to

me and to all women by honoring it. You press your
mouth against it as a symbol of your esteem."
     Pamela picked up her magazine again, but she
couldn't concentrate. She loved having his face pressed
against her pussy, but she was excited and frustrated
and wanted to come. All in good time, she thought as
she concentrated on not moving while Bobby knelt with
his mouth against her dampening crotch.
     When she had taken all she could, she lifted her
skirt again. Bobby blinked in the light, and Pamela
ordered him to straighten up. She glanced down at his
pelvis. His erection made a stiff tent pole for the
white panties, and a few drops of pre-come dampened the
material at the apex. Pleased, she spoke again. "That
was very good, Bobby. I think you're a good boy who has
developed a few bad habits. Nothing that can't be
fixed, I'm sure."
     Pamela touched Bobby's face with her left hand,
then touched his lips with her fingers. She slipped her
index and middle fingers into his mouth. "Suck my
fingers," she whispered, "Make them wet and slippery."
Bobby sucked and licked while Pamela swirled her
fingers around his mouth. "And now, Bobby," she
continued, leaving her fingers in his mouth, "It's time
for your second lesson in humility. I want you to get
on your hands and knees on the couch, with your head
against the armrest." She withdrew her fingers
reluctantly.
     Bobby clambered into position, and Pamela sat
behind him. "Put your shoulders down on the arm of the
couch," she said in a soothing voice. Bobby complied.
     "Now I'm going to take down your panties." She
pulled the underclothes over his hips gently and
slowly, stopping when they were just above his knees.
She touched his wrinkled asshole with her wet fingers.
The small, pink, hairless opening entranced her. "One
of the things that men with big egos are usually touchy
about," she began as she slipped her middle finger in
up to the second knuckle, "Is their anus." He was
tight, warm and elastic. She reminded herself to take
it slowly.
     "It bothers them to have a woman's fingers in
their rectum." She withdrew her finger and probed
again, this time with both her index and middle
fingers. Bobby tensed his sphincter, found that that
made it hurt, and did the best he could to relax.
     "You may have some of those feelings yourself. If
you do, I think you'll find that they diminish upon
repeated treatment." She twisted her hand back and
forth.
     "Sometimes it takes a while, though, and I may
have to do this for you many times." She thrust her
fingers inside and massaged Bobby's prostate.
     "You can help by letting me know when your ego
asserts itself. If you come and tell me, I can treat
it, either this way, or with some other technique." If
he were going to rebel, he would have done so by now.
With growing confidence and mastery, she finger-fucked
Bobby's butt with rapid, firm strokes.
     Pamela continued, her voice growing more
seductive. "And now, Bobby, I'm going to be very nice
to you. This is getting you excited, isn't it."
     "Yes, ma'am, it sure is."
     "It would be hard for you to keep from abusing
yourself if I sent you to your room right now, wouldn't
it?"

     "Yes'm."
     "I know. Well, since this is your first day and
you're just getting used to things around here, I shall
relieve you. Would you like that?"
     "Oh yes, Aunt Pamela, very much."
     "You'd have to ask me nicely first."
     "Oh...um... Aunt Pamela, would you please, er,
take care of me?"
     "You want me to masturbate you?"
     "Y..yes, ma'am."
     "Then say it."
     "Please Aunt Pamela, will you masturbate me?" The
word sounded clinical to Bobby's ears, and made his
pleading seem craven to him.
     "Yes, Bobby, I will masturbate you until you
ejaculate."
     Pamela suppressed a trembling in her right hand as
she reached for Bobby's cock. She strove for a cool
precision in her touch, and resisted the urge to
lovingly stroke his member. Holding him gently but
firmly, she began a series of long, even strokes with a
moderate tempo that matched the way she finger-fucked
his asshole. Bobby didn't last long at all. As he
spurted, Pamela aimed his cock into the panties bunched
around his knees. She kept up the same steady rhythm
for a minute after the last spasm, knowing that Bobby
would be especially tender then.
     Pamela released Bobby's cock and slipped her
fingers out of his ass. She reached down and pulled the
panties up around Bobby's hips, reaching between his
legs and rubbing his come into his crotch.
     Pamela prompted, "What do you say, Bobby?"
     "Thank you, Aunt Pamela."
     "That's right. Next time I want you to thank me as
you ejaculate. Thank me once each time you spurt. Do
you think you can remember that?"
     Also Bobby was thoroughly satiated for the moment,
he was thrilled by the implication that there would be
a next time. Eagerly, he answered, "Oh yes, Aunt
Pamela, I'll remember."
     "That's good. Run along to your room now. By the
way, don't sit down until your semen dries. I don't
want to get the furniture dirty."
     "Does that mean I can't change clothes?"
     "Yes, Bobby. I want you to wear those panties all
day. Each day, I want you to put on a new pair when you
get up in the morning. You can change into your regular
clothes when you go to school, but I want you to change
back into your panties as soon as you get home. I don't
want you to wear anything else around the house, and I
want you to wear the same pair all day. Is that clear?"
     Bobby didn't like the sound of this, but he was
still coming down from the state of intense sexual
excitement that Pamela had caused, and he didn't want
to disagree with her, so he answered simply, "Yes'm."
     Bobby went off to his room to finish unpacking and
to do his homework standing up. Pamela took a bath.
After locking the door carefully, she lay in the warm
soapy water and caressed her clitoris with her index
finger until she came violently. Her stomach muscles
contracted in spasms as she struggled to keep from
crying out in her ecstasy. Afterwards, she relaxed and
marveled at her good fortune.

To: louvre@dido.fa.indiana.edu
Subject: SUBMIT aunt_pamela08.txt


Article 32690 of alt.sex.stories:
From: an99635@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue, 30 Aug 1994 10:52:16 UTC
Subject: Aunt Pamela by Ken Bristol 8/21 (mf, ff, incest, dom, nc)

                      SEVEN
"I don't know about this, Ginny," Jack whined as the
teenager walked in circles around the tree, wrapping
the rope tight around his body. She moved slowing
downwards, pinning his hands to his sides, trapping his
erection against his belly, forcing his thighs and
knees together, and ending with a square knot at his
ankles. Johnny, also naked and already similarly bound,
watched from several feet away.
     "Then why are you so hard, Jackie?" mocked the
slim brunette. She reached out and fingered the boy's
equipment, then pulled the rope out with one hand and
freed his cock with the other. "You got a rod just
thinking about it, didn't you? You like being helpless
while I make you do things. Dirty things. Nasty things.
You can't wait to find out what's going on in my filthy
little mind." The girl smirked into the hulking boy's
face as she masturbated him slowly, squeezing him a
little harder than necessary. This was the big one; if
things worked out, she'd have both boys in the palm of
her hand. She gave Jack a few quick jerks, then spun
away.
     "How 'bout a little show, boys?" Ginny asked in a
theatrically throaty voice. She put her hands behind
her head and lifted her hair to the top of her head,
then let it fall about her shoulders. "You wanna see
this body?" The girl teasingly unbuttoned her blouse as
she undulated her hips. The blouse hit the ground,
followed by Ginny's shorts and her thin white
brassiere. She pulled down her panties and posed
provocatively as they bunched around her knees, then
she kicked them up in the air, caught them with one
hand, sauntered over to Jack and slapped him gently
across the face with them. Over and over the soft
material bounced silkily against the boy's cheeks,
bringing hints of Ginny's aromas to Jack's nostrils.
His excitement shone in his eyes, and Ginny smiled at
the effect her teasing humiliation was having. She
turned her underwear inside out, put her hand behind
the crotch, and rubbed the damp spot against Jack's
nose and lips. Looking suddenly bored, Ginny hung her
underwear on Jack's stiff prick; it trembled as the
twitchings of his cock bounced it around.
     Ginny shifted her attention to Johnny. "He looks
pretty silly, doesn't he?" she smirked as she put her
hand on his shoulder and gave him an insolent look.
"Well, so do you, kid. You may not have my underwear
dangling from your cock..." She reached down to stroke
Johnny's half-hard prick. "But you're a sorry case,
just the same." Ginny put her tongue in the boys ear,
then whispered, "You want to put this thing somewhere
where it's warm and slippery?"
     "Yeah, baby. I want to shove it up your hot cunt."
     "I'm the one that'll do the shoving; you're the
one that's all tied up." Her fingers flew up and down
Johnny's now-stiff shaft, fluttering delicately like
butterfly wings.
     "Whatever you say, Ginny. I just want to be inside
your pussy."
     "You're gonna have to promise me something,
though. You're gonna have to do whatever I say
afterward."
     "Don't I always?"
     "I guess so, but tell me now." She tweaked the tip
of Johnny's prick with her fingers.
     "Fuck me baby, and I'll do whatever you say."

     Ginny turned and rubbed against the boy like a big
cat, wriggling her hips up and down as she twisted,
finally feeling his rod between her buttocks. She bent
at the waist and reached between her legs, manipulating
Bobby's stiff member and tugging it downward, feeling
it catch against the tight, recessed ring of her
asshole before she worked it loose, and, still pressing
backwards with her hips, dipped the head into her hot,
wet, sticky honey pot. "That feel good, big boy?" she
breathed softly as she wiggled his shaft up and down
with her fingertips.
     "Ungh." Bobby's incoherence was caused by his
urgent desire to bury his dick in Ginny's tight pussy
and his frustration that all his pushing against the
ropes was getting him no nearer to his goal. He kept
flexing his hips back and forth anyway.
     Ginny pushed his cock down far enough so she could
rub her clitoris with it. "Want more, Johnny?"
     "Lemme fuck you. Please."
     "Like this?" Ginny thrust her hips back against
the boy. Her warm slickness was delicious. She
tightened her vaginal muscles on him, and he thought
he'd die with pleasure. "Oops!" Ginny let out a
playful, teasing cry as she pulled away from him. She
twined her arms around Johnny as she kissed his ear and
whispered: "Now you know what it'll be like, Johnny.
I'll fuck you just like that. I'll fuck you 'til you
shoot in my hot cunt. But promise me again, Johnny:
you'll do just what I say afterwards."
     "Sure, Ginny. You know I will."
     Ginny danced away from the tree and found her
purse, then sashayed back tearing open a square foil
packet.
     "Aw c'mon Gin, lemme fuck you bareback."
     "No way, kid. You already got more than you
should've." She rolled the sheath down Johnny's rod,
and held him as she turned her back, bent over, and
pressed herself onto him. "How's that, Johnny?" she
asked as she began thrusting backwards sharply and
pulling forward leisurely with a little hip-wiggle.
     "Shit, Ginny. You feel fucking fantastic."
     "I knew you'd like it," Ginny purred. She rode the
boy to his orgasm while looking deeply into Jack's
eyes.
                *           *             *
"Before I untie you, I'm gonna tell you what you have
to do." Ginny whispered for a few seconds in Johnny's
ear, and Jack saw his eyes widen.
     "I can't do that..." Johnny started to protest,
but Ginny cut him off.
     "Of course you can. You might even like it. "You'd
never admit it, though..." The girl stood in front of
Johnny with her hands on her slim hips. "Promise me,
now, or you'll spend the rest of the day tied up."
     "OK, Gin... But what's Jack gonna..."
     "Let me worry about Jack," said Ginny crispy as
she began to fumble with the knots.
     Soon Johnny was free; he stripped off the used
rubber as the pair advanced on Jack. Ginny stood behind
Johnny and pushed down on his shoulders until he knelt
at Jack's feet. Ginny pulled her panties off Jack's
still-stiff prick, scissored one leg over Johnny and

wrapped her arms around Jack's bound body. The ropes
felt strange against her skin; she rubbed her body up
and down, savoring the feel of Jack's smooth skin and
the roughness of his fetters. She trapped his dick
between his body and hers and rubbed against it,
rotating her pubic mound in little circles as she
pressed against him. Johnny looked up at Ginny's
buttocks, flexing and squirming just inches from his
face. He saw the shiny slickness between her legs, and
peered into the dark, hairy forest of her pussy. A drop
of oily, clear fluid dripped down the girl's leg, and
Jack leaned forward to lick it off. He followed the
spicy odor in the direction of Ginny's cunt, and
plunged his tongue into its hot, wet interior as the
girl began to pump her hips back and forth. His nose
slipped between her buttocks and slid over her greasy
asshole. A few weeks ago, Jack had been repelled when
Ginny made him lick her there, but something had
changed: Ginny's tight brown ring turned him on now. He
worked his nose into its recesses.
     Ginny's motions were beginning to chafe Jack where
she rubbed his cock against the rope that crossed his
belly; he was relieved when she pulled back a bit,
reached down with one hand, and pushed his cock between
her legs. She was shorter that he, so her crotch forced
his cock uncomfortably downward, even though Ginny
stood on tiptoes. "Do your stuff, Johnny," the girl
mumbled, to Jack's confusion.
     Johnny knew the time had come, and he steeled
himself as Ginny pressed her hips forward, causing
Jack's cock to slide past her vagina and into Johnny's
open mouth. The kneeling boy tentatively licked the
head, then pressed forward, plunging his nose into
Ginny's brown rosebud as he sucked his friend's cock.
It felt soft and warm in his mouth. He repressed the
urge to gag.
     Jack didn't know what was happening until he felt
the light sharp nips of Johnny's teeth. He tried to
twist away, but could only move an inch or two. Ginny
whispered as she licked his face: "How's your dick
feel, Jackie-boy? You like the way Johnny sucks your
cock? He's not as good at it as I am, is he? He'll get
better if he gets lots of practice, though."
     "That's disgusting! Let me go!"
     "Disgusting, huh? Then how come you're still hard?
If it's really disgusting, then you won't come in his
mouth, will you. That'll be the proof, Jackie. Can
Johnny get you off? I'll bet he can. See if you can
keep from coming, but I think you will."
     Meanwhile, Johnny was doing his best to turn Jack
on, but he wasn't getting very far, because Ginny's
squirmy ass kept him from getting much of Jack's cock
into his mouth. That was actually fine with Johnny, who
has made his piece with sucking just the end of his
friend's dick, as long as he got to bury his face in
Ginny's delicious ass while he was doing it, but was
worried about going much farther. Ginny hadn't thought
much about the problems Johnny would have in this
position, but she wanted a change for reasons of her
own: she wanted to watch Johnny as he sucked his friend
off. The thought of seeing the head of Jack's big dick
rippling under Johnny's hollowed cheeks turned the girl
on, and she scissored one leg back over Johnny and
knelt beside him.
     "Hey, there, boy. Yeah, you with the dick in your
mouth. Are you a good little cocksucker? Go ahead, you

can get more meat in." Ginny pressed on the back of
Johnny's head and he obediently let Jack further
inside, then began to move his head up and down on the
boy's penis. Ginny slid her hand down Johnny's back and
stroked his buttocks. What the hell, might as well give
him a thrill, thought the girl as she trailed the
fingernails of her other hand down Johnny's chest
before wrapping her fingers around his cock. She pumped
him gently and probed between his asscheeks for his
tight little hole. With Ginny's middle finger up his
butt, her strong hand fisting his dick, and his mouth
full of Jack's warm prick, Johnny was drowning in
sensation. He moaned and pressed forward until he felt
Jack against the back of his throat.
     Ginny looked up at Jack. His eyes were slits, and
his face was contorted. Johnny's mouth felt great, but
he was revolted by what was happening. Gradually the
good feeling grew until it dominated his squeamishness.
He grunted.
     Ginny picked right up on it. "Turns you on,
doesn't it, Jackie-boy. You gave me all that shit about
how disgusting it all was, but look at you now. Pretty
close to dropping your load?" She turned to Johnny.
"Suck him faster now. Move your mouth up and down on
his hot, stiff prick. Yeah, that's right. Play with his
balls. Good. Yeah Johnny -- suck that cock. Make him
come in your mouth."
     Johnny moved faster and faster until he felt
Jack's prick jerk in his mouth. One hot spurt hit the
back of his throat, and he pulled suddenly away and
bent down to spit out the sticky fluid. Jack shot a few
more squirts into the air before Ginny took pity on
him, reached up, and milked his dick dry.
     She stood up and wiped her hands on Jack's face.
Looking at the ashamed, beaten look in his eyes, she
knew she wouldn't even have to threaten them. They'd
know that she'd tell everybody about what happened if
they crossed her. She was home free; they'd do anything
she said from now on.

To: louvre@dido.fa.indiana.edu
Subject: SUBMIT aunt_pamela09.txt



Article 32711 of alt.sex.stories:
From: an99635@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue, 30 Aug 1994 12:21:42 UTC
Subject: Aunt Pamela by Ken Bristol 9/21 (mf, ff, incest, dom, nc)

                    EIGHT
When Bobby came home from school the next day, Pamela
was waiting in the hall. "Bobby," she said while
putting one hand on his shoulder, "I want you to go up
and get into your panties and come down to the living
room. Be quick about it."
     Bobby ran up the stairs. Pamela sauntered into the
living room, and stood by the coffee table waiting.
There was a clatter on the stairs and Bobby darted
round the corner and braked to a halt. He looked
confused and vulnerable in the underwear. Pamela
watched his equipment jiggle back and forth under the
thin material. She favored him with a thin smile. "It
is time for your next lesson in humility. Lie down on
the floor on your back."
     Bobby complied. Pamela walked over to him and
stood over his head facing his feet. Bobby tried vainly
to look up her skirt, but it was too dark. "Bobby," she
began, "I am now going to sit on your face. You will
find that your nose and mouth will be pressed up
against my anus. Again, I don't want you to move your
mouth at all, and I want you to make sure that you keep
your tongue inside your lips. Do you understand?"
     Bobby wasn't the quickest kid around, but he knew
his lines: "Yes, Aunt Pamela."
     Pamela lowered herself onto Bobby's face. She
leaned forward and balanced herself on her hands, and
pressed her asshole against Bobby's nose. She smiled as
she watched his cock start to twitch. She sat down a
little harder and felt his nose pressing firmly against
her opening. She momentarily regretted that she was
wearing panties, but reminded herself that she had lots
of time, and in the end she would be even more
satisfied if she brought him along slowly. She noted
that his cock was already hard. It lay flat against his
belly, making a ridge in the white briefs. She moved
forward and brushed his lips with her bottomhole, then
gradually increased the pressure. Bobby's cock strained
against the panties as it tried to rise from his
stomach.
     Pamela talked to Bobby in an even voice. "It may
be difficult for someone with a big male ego to press
his nose and lips against a woman's anus, but that's
precisely why it's good for you. It may be hard for you
to be completely passive while a woman decides just
where on your face to sit, and while she sits on you
just as hard or as gently as she wants, but it will do
you good. I'm going to sit here a while and let you get
used to the feeling."
     After ten or fifteen minutes, Pamela arose. She
stood over him again, then moved over to the couch and
sat down. She spoke softly: "Bobby, you may get up
now."
     Bobby rose unsteadily to his feet.
     "Come over here." She pointed at the floor just in
front of where she sat.
     Bobby shuffled over and stood in front of her. His
erection jutted out against the panties. Pamela looked
at it with a feigned expression of irritation. "Would
you like me to relieve you?"
     "Please, ma'am."
     "You know how to ask."
     "Would you please masturbate me, Aunt Pamela?"
     "Yes, Bobby, I will. Take your panties off and
hold them so they will catch your emissions."
     Bobby awkwardly extricated himself from the
underclothes. Pamela assumed what she hoped was a bored
expression as she fisted Bobby's cock back and forth.
Bobby came as quickly as before, and held the panties
up to catch his semen. After one or two spurts it
seemed to Pamela that he had forgotten her
instructions, and she remonstrated, "Remember how to
thank me, Bobby."
     "Thank you...thank you...thank you," Bobby intoned
in time with his squirts, which were in turn timed to
her strokes. After the panties were soaked, Pamela
instructed Bobby to put them on and go up to his room
to study.
                *           *             *
For the rest of the week, Pamela performed variations
on the theme. She always met Bobby as he came home, and
she always made him worship her asshole while she sat
on his face wearing her soiled panties. Sometimes she
would jack him off afterwards as he stood in front of
her, all the while looking at him in the same way that
a milkmaid looks at a cow. Sometimes she would finger-
fuck his asshole while she made him come. Sometimes she
wouldn't let him come at all. Bobby got to the point
where he had a hard-on when he came down the stairs
with his panties on, then he began to get hard on the
way home from school. Pamela spent a lot of time in the
bathtub with her hands between her legs.
     On Friday night, Pamela came into Bobby's room as
he was getting ready for bed. He stood uneasily beside
his desk, and his prick began to harden. Pamela noticed
and smiled to herself. She went to his bed, turned down
the covers, and picked up the pillow. She took
something out of her pocket and stuffed it into the
pillowcase. Turning back to Bobby, she announced
firmly: "I've put a pair of my panties in your pillow.
I've worn them a long time and they smell like me. I
want your head to be full of a woman's essence while
you sleep. I don't want you to remove them, move them,
or turn the pillow over." She turned on her heel and
left abruptly.
     After a while, Bobby went to bed. At first he
found the intoxicating aromas that came up from his
pillow to be pleasant. He thought of his time between
Pamela's thighs and got hard. He thought of the way she
sat on his face, and he remembered her stroking his
cock. His excitement kept him awake, and when he
finally fell into a shallow sleep, he dreamed fitfully
of Pamela. It was a very long night.
     The next morning, Pamela awakened Bobby at about
eight, and invited him to come down for breakfast. It
was a special treat for Bobby: waffles, blueberries,
and real maple syrup. He stuffed himself under Pamela's
watchful gaze.
     After they cleaned up, Pamela invited Bobby into
the living room. She sat on the couch and he stood in
front of her. She fingered his cock through his
panties, and he stiffened immediately. She looked up at
him. "Today you're going to learn something new, Bobby.
You have already acquired some abilities in passive
discipline; now I'll get you started on active
discipline. In active discipline, you have to do more
than just take what someone else dishes out -- you have
to control yourself to achieve a result that part of
you doesn't want. Do you understand?"
     "I'm not sure, Aunt Pamela."
     "I'm sure it will be clear as we get into it. Now
take your panties to your knees."
     Bobby pushed his underwear off his hips and down
his thighs. His prick sprang to attention.
     Pamela continued. "Now masturbate slowly."
     Tentatively, Bobby put his hand to his cock. He
gripped it nervously and took a couple of strokes.
Pamela encouraged him: "That's right Bobby, do it some
more. Now stop for a minute. Here's what I want you to
do: I want you to masturbate until you almost
ejaculate, but I want you to stop just before you do.
You'll know when you do it right because a little clear
fluid will well up from the tip of your penis. If you
go too far the fluid will be cloudy. I'll let you get
away with that much, but if you squirt I shall punish
you. It will be hard for you, because part of you will
want to come, but you will have to be strong. Begin
now."
     Concentrating hard, Bobby began to move his hand
back and forth. After a minute, his hips started
twitching. Pamela watched him as if she were

administering an English test, but inwardly she was
filled with a heady excitement. Bobby felt that he was
getting close, and stopped.
     Pamela leaned forward and eyed Bobby's helmet.
"You stopped too soon, Bobby. There's nothing there but
the normal wetness that you get there when you get
excited. When you get as close as I want you to get,
there will be much more. Try again."
     It didn't take Bobby nearly as long to feel that
tingle in his balls. He got to where he stopped last
time, took about three more strokes, and took his hand
away. Uh-oh, he thought, that's too much; I'm gonna
come. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold back. He
felt something filling his cock, and then a gentle flow
emerged to wet the tip of his cock and to drip into
Pamela's hand.
     She inspected the fluid in her palm. "That's too
much, Bobby. This is all cloudy. At least you didn't
squirt. Rest a minute and try again. I'll hold you
while you get ready." She cupped his balls in one hand
and pressed with her fingertips at the place where his
sac joined his groin.
     Under her control, Bobby rapidly was rejuvenated,
and began to once more fist himself. This time he was
successful, and Pamela watched with approval as clear
liquid covered the head of his cock. She picked some up
with her thumb and then licked it off as if she were
somehow conducting a taste test to see if it was the
right stuff. It was salty and viscous, and she loved
it, but she simply nodded her head, and said, "That's
good, Bobby. Now do it again."
     Bobby was overconfident this time, and stopped too
late. A single jet emerged into Pamela's waiting hand.
Bobby felt his body twitching as it got ready to
deliver the rest of his load, but he managed to hold
that much back.
     Pamela looked at her hand, then at Bobby. He was
worried, but she spoke mildly: "You ejaculated, Bobby.
I'll have to punish you for that, but because you're
trying so hard and doing so well, I'll be easy on you."
She stood up and rubbed his come onto Bobby's face. She
reached under her skirt and tugged at her panties,
worried that their wetness would give away her
excitement, but eager for what was to come. Standing on
one leg at a time, she removed her underwear and balled
the garment in her hand. "Open your mouth, Bobby. I'm
going to gag you with my panties."
     As she stuffed his mouth, she continued: "I put
the crotch right where your tongue will be. You can
taste me and smell me while you masturbate yourself.
And don't even try to talk."
     She sat back down and resumed her grip on his
balls. He was soon ready, and tried again. He was
excited by the feel and taste of her panties in his
mouth, and compensated by stopping early -- too early,
as it turned out. He tried again, but was again too
early. Pamela longed to take him in her mouth and suck
down his juices. She knew it wouldn't take more than a
few swipes with her tongue at the head of his cock to
put him well over the edge. She repressed her desires.
     "Try again, Bobby. You can do it." She urged him
on.
     Bobby made another run at it, but stopped too soon
again. Pre-come oozed copiously from his cock, but
Pamela knew what she wanted, and that wasn't it. "Come

on, Bobby. You're going to have to push it a little if
you're going to do it again."
     Bobby's face screwed up in concentration as he
started to beat his meat one more time. He was in a
fever of excitement caused by the repeated
masturbation, the delicious stern presence of his Aunt,
and the smell and taste of her underwear in his mouth.
He felt the first surges of his ejaculation, took one
more stroke and stopped. For a moment, he thought he'd
done it. His elation turned to chagrin as he felt his
muscles start to pump out his thick white syrup. Pamela
held up her hand and caught the first heavy, viscous
spurt. Several weaker ones followed, filling her palm.
Pamela beckoned him to lower his face, smeared his
emissions all over his nose, mouth and cheeks, then
spoke harshly: "Bobby! And you were doing so well! I'm
sorry, but I really will have to punish you this time.
Go into the bathroom and get a towel."
     Blushing deeply, Bobby reached down to pull up his
panties. Pamela stopped him: "Leave those around your
legs. You can walk if you take little steps." Bobby
hobbled off towards the bathroom, pausing occasionally
to reach down to reposition his panties, which worked
down his legs as he shuffled along. He soon returned
carrying a large bath towel. He paused to pull his
underwear up a bit. Pamela almost burst out laughing.
There he was, dressed only in women's underwear worn as
a hobble, his face covered with his own come, his
cheeks a full as a chipmunk's and a corner of her
panties emerging from his mouth, his cock erect and
purple from his attentions, sweating from the
excitement and from his exertions, and loving every
minute of it. Her lips quivered as she tried to keep a
straight face. She had her schoolteacher look on, and
hoped Bobby would just think that she was impatient.
     Bobby made it all the way across the room and
handed Pamela the towel. She spread it primly across
her lap, then looked at Bobby significantly. "Lie
across my knees, Bobby, and put your hands on the
floor."
     Bobby felt a brief impulse to rebel, but it
disappeared as fast as it came. She hadn't made him do
anything yet that didn't result in some weird and crazy
turn-on; this probably wouldn't be any different. And
besides, he was somehow in her power -- he
automatically obeyed her without even thinking about
it. He didn't know if he could not obey her. He lay in
a V across her lap, supporting himself with his hands
and feet.
     He heard her voice addressing him. "Do you know
what I'm going to do, Bobby?"
     Bobby bobbed his head up and down.
     "I'm going to give you a mild spanking. You need
to work on controlling your impulses, don't you?"
     Another nod.
     "Maybe this will help." She gave him a sound slap
on one buttock with her right hand. It hurt a little,
but mostly stung. He flinched anyway. She repeated the
blow, this time on the other cheek. She caressed his
bottom with her hand, then smacked it twice more. She
ran her middle finger up and down the crack of his ass,
then probed at his asshole. As she sank it in as far as
the second knuckle, she asked, "Do you think this will
help your self-control?"
     Bobby nodded. He didn't know if it would or
wouldn't, but this whole scene was getting him even

hotter. Her spanks didn't hurt much, and what pain
there was mixed with his excitement and his submissive
position in ways that aroused him.
     Pamela withdrew her finger and whacked him several
more times. She found his bottom hole again, and sank
her finger to the hilt, wiggling it around for good
measure. Leaving her finger in his asshole, she spanked
him, somewhat ineffectively, with her left hand.
Looking for a better combination, she put the middle
and index fingers of her left hand into his ass while
she slapped him with her right hand. She had to reach
around the hand that was probing him to get to his
right buttock, but she was pleased with the effect. She
felt his stiff cock through the towel and her dress.
She moved her legs around to try to give it a little
stimulation. She withdrew her left hand from his
asshole, and gave him four quick, hard slaps with her
right.
     She pushed him away, saying, "Stand up now,
Bobby."
     Bobby pulled himself erect. His face was deep red,
and he was sweating furiously. His cock pointed at
Pamela, curving towards the ceiling. She looked at him
intently, but her words were mild: "There now. That
wasn't so bad, was it? You're doing very well, overall.
I think that you're going to be good at this."
     She beckoned him closer. He leaned down and she
daintily reached for the part of her panties that
emerged from his mouth. Holding a corner between her
thumb and forefinger, she slowly extracted her garment
and laid it on the towel still covering her lap. She
smiled up at him, and said, "Kneel down, Bobby."
     His face was level with hers. She took it in her
hands as she told him what was to come: "Bobby, I've
worked with you for a week now. You're doing quite
well. Part of that is because of your efforts, and part
is because I've been such a effective instructor. I'm
going to give you a chance to show me your gratitude. I
think you'll enjoy it yourself, but don't forget that
you're doing it to show me how much you appreciate what
I'm doing for you."
     She removed the towel and underwear from her lap
and laid them on the floor between Bobby and the couch.
She stood up and pulled part of the towel onto the
cushion, then sat back down on it. She lifted her skirt
and beckoned him forward. He put his head between her
legs and scooted forward on the floor, wiggling his
nose into his Aunt's damp pubic hair. "You've done this
before, Bobby, but it's different this time. Part of
the difference is that I'm not wearing underwear. Do
you like that part?"
     "Yes'm," Bobby mumbled as her pressed his lips to
her slippery labia. He was beside himself with
excitement.
     "The other part concerns what you're going to do.
Before, you were passive, but not this time." Her tone
changed to one of command: "Lick me."
     Bobby didn't need much encouragement to do what he
had been dying to do anyway. He leaned forward and
lapped at her labia. His tongue slipped easily between
them, and was quickly covered with her sticky juice.
     "A little deeper. That's good."
     Bobby thought that he could follow orders like
this all day.
     "Now move up a bit. A little higher. No, that's
too high. There. Feel that little nubbin?"

     "Mmph."
     Pamela interpreted that as an affirmative. "That's
my clitoris. If you lick me there, I'll have an orgasm.
It will make me feel good, and it will be your thanks
to me. Be gentle."
     Bobby licked up and down. Little tremors ran
through Pamela's guts. It was finally happening, and it
was every bit as delicious as she had hoped.
     "Now make little circles around it."
     As Bobby complied, Pamela reveled in being able to
teach such a young, handsome innocent to bring her
pleasure. She would turn this boy into her perfect
lover. What an opportunity!
     "Now back and forth."
     Pause.
     "Now up and down again."
     Pause.
     "Circles."
     Pause.
     Then, in a growing frenzy: "Faster, Bobby, faster.
Press a little harder. Right there. Yes. Yes. YES."
     Pamela bucked her hips against Bobby, quivered,
groaned, and went over the top, falling down in wave
after wave of ecstasy. She lifted her skirt to get a
look at her nephew. His face was slick with his come,
her come, and both their sweat. He looked at her face,
saw the look of radiant happiness there, and beamed in
satisfaction -- he made her look like that! And then he
looked down, down at what he'd been tasting, smelling,
kissing, and dreaming about all week. Her pussy was
mouth-watering: pink lips glistening with his saliva
and her juices, pouting and pulsing with tiny rhythmic
contractions; her clitoris just peaking between the
smaller lips up near the place where the larger ones
came together; and a lush covering of long, curiously
straight, dark-brown hair that filled the place between
her legs and continued up a third of the way to her
deep, narrow belly-button.
     He put his face in her lap. She held his head and
stroked it gently. Presently, she pushed his face down
into her crotch. "It's time for you to get back to
work," she said softly. "I was in a hurry then, but
this time we'll take it long and slow."
     Surprised, Bobby started to lick her clit again.
She remonstrated: "No, Bobby, not like that. Start out
very softly and slowly. Stretch it out. Make it take an
hour, if you can."
     Bobby learned fast, and Pamela started a long,
slow climb. When she was pleasantly aroused, but still
a long way from coming, she slowed Bobby again, so she
could linger on the high plateau. She drifted along on
his tongue like a balloon on a breeze, soaking the
towel beneath her hips. "OK, Bobby," she whispered,
"Take me a little higher." Bobby moved fractionally
more quickly, and she gradually rose to a place where
she could feel a series of exquisite tiny orgasms, like
a string of firecrackers exploding at great distance in
slow motion. Her hips rocked back and forth in a
relaxed rhythm as she floated from peak to peak. Tiring
a bit, she gently pressed downwards on Bobby's head
while raising one leg and propping her ankle against
the cushion. Bobby obediently tongued the entrance of
her pussy, lapping up her free-flowing liquor. She
pushed him lower still. "My anus," she intoned. Bobby
kissed her bottom hole, feeling its furrows and
fissures with his lips. He pressed his tongue to the

opening, licking up the fluids that had dripped down
from her pussy. He tasted her dark brown flavors, and
moved his tongue faster in search for more. Pamela
relaxed her sphincter and felt his tongue invade her
softness. It was exquisite -- like velvet. She melted.
Soon she felt an urgent need for release, and she
pulled gently on Bobby's hair. He moved upwards,
pausing at the entrance to her pussy. Urged on by her
tugging, he came once more to her stiff little button.
"Be quick, Bobby," she directed. "Tight little circles.
That's right, Bobby, you're going to make me come
again. This is the big one Bobby. Take me over the top.
Make me scream. Yes. Now. Eee..." Pamela keened as
Bobby licked frantically. Her stomach muscles
contracted in great spasms, and her hips bucked so much
that Bobby had a hard time staying on target. Finally
satiated, she pushed his head away. Bobby stared up at
her, fascinated once more by the radiant look on her
face. He was suddenly conscious of how much the muscles
at the base of his tongue hurt.
     Pamela roused herself. She knew what she wanted to
do, but she thought that it wouldn't be right at this
stage of Bobby's training. She decided to do it anyway.
This looked like one special kid, and she was going to
go with her gut. "Bobby," she said in a voice that
trembled just a bit, "That was wonderful. It was so
wonderful that I'm going to do something special for
you. I don't want you to get the idea that this is
going to happen very often, but it's going to happen
now. Stand up, Bobby."
     Bobby rose unsteadily to his feet. His panties
fell down to lie in a soft white pile around his
ankles. His prick stood out red an angry-looking.
Pamela pulled him closer, and he took a half-step.
ending up with his legs between hers and his shins
pressed against the couch. She touched his member
lovingly, and leaned forward. Bobby thought he knew
what she was doing, but he wanted it so badly that he
was afraid to believe it for fear that he would somehow
jinx things. She looked up at him as she opened her
mouth and softly kissed the head of his cock. Slowly,
slowly, she pressed forward, opening her lips just
enough to let him in. She paused when she had engulfed
the helmet, and pulled slowly back again, licking the
heart-shaped place on the underside with the pointed
tip of her tongue. She held his gaze for a minute, then
moved swiftly forward, taking most of him in her mouth.
She stroked him with her tongue as she pulled back
again, stopping when the head began to emerge, and
rapidly swallowing him. She sucked gently on his pole,
as gradually pulled back, her cheeks hollow.
     She felt the twitchings that meant he was about to
come. So soon, so quick, she thought. She was
disappointed, but took comfort that there would be many
more times. She moved her head rapidly now, sucking and
licking and stroking the base of his cock with her
hand. Bobby came in thick ropes, which Pamela swallowed
greedily. At last, she pulled back for the last time,
and smiled up at him. A drop of white liquid escaped
from the corner of her mouth and rolled down her chin.
She scooped it up with her index finger, which she held
to Bobby's lips. He licked her finger as she probed his
mouth. She took back her hand, put the finger in her
mouth, gave him a provocative look, and sent him
upstairs.

To: louvre@dido.fa.indiana.edu
Subject: SUBMIT aunt_pamela10.txt


Article 32689 of alt.sex.stories:
From: an99635@anon.penet.fi
Date: Tue, 30 Aug 1994 10:52:12 UTC
Subject: Aunt Pamela by Ken Bristol 10/21 (mf, ff, incest, dom, nc)

                        NINE
Ginny's heart pounded so hard she could hear the blood
pumping in her ears. They'll kill me if they catch me
snooping in their bedroom, she thought. She tried to
settle herself down. C'mon girl, they're gone for at
least an hour. If they come back early, you'll hear
them in the driveway and be out of here and lying on
your own bed looking sweet and innocent before they get
through the front door. Reason provided only a partial
calming. The girl's hands trembled as she pawed
carefully through the dresser drawers, rearranging
things as they were after she sifted through the
contents. Lessee, this is Mom's underwear drawer...
Ooh, there's a sexy pair of black lace panties! I
wonder when she wears these? And this black pushup bra,
real low-cut on top... She closed the drawer and opened
the one above it. Dad's jockey shorts, socks... She
burrowed deeper. Ooo la, la! Feel these stretchy bikini
briefs! I wonder what Dad's meat looks like cradled in
these. She licked her lips nervously, imagining sliding
her fingers across the slippery material and feeling
her father's prick underneath, then feeling his cock
start to harden as she moved her hand faster, hearing
him sharply inhale as she gripped him hard.... She
shook her head, returning her thoughts to the present.
     She was down to the paper at the bottom of the
drawer, and reluctantly pushed it closed. Ginny
shuffled through the boxes on top of the dresser,
finding jewelry, sunglasses, collar stays, safety pins,
and a pile of pennies. She looked around. The bureau
was an inch or so away from the wall. I wonder if...
she thought, disappointed that her search hadn't turned
up anything salacious. Probably not. She leaned over an
grabbed one of the back corners of the bureau, and
pulled. The dresser hung up on the rug, so the girl
lifted up and dragged the chest of drawers out about
six inches. She walked around to the side and ran her
hand up and down the back of the bureau. Paper rustled
against her fingers. She wedged her head between the
chest and the wall and peered into the gloom as she
explored, finding a manila envelope taped to the
plywood with the open end up and the flap loose.
Eagerly, Ginny dipped her fingers into the pouch, where
they encountered some paper. She pinched her fingers
together and pulled, and out came a magazine.
     The young girl gaped at the cover. A naked middle-
aged man lay bound face-down across a chair, his head
bent back to look into the camera. Over him stood a
thin brunette dressed in shiny black leather, holding a
riding crop bent between her hands and looking at her
captive with malicious intent. Ginny's heart began
pounding again, and she looked around the room to
reassure herself that she was alone. The teenager
flipped quickly through the pages. Letters, pictures,
stories, ads -- all about women dominating men. And the
men seem to love it. Look at this letter! Some guy's
writing that his mistress -- mistress!-- makes him
sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed, makes him
eat her pussy until his tongue cramps up, never lets
him fuck her, jerks him off sometimes if she feels like
it, and he thanks her for it! She found a picture
story. A man knelt on the floor of a bathroom, and a
tall woman in a leather garter belt, black stockings,
and black pumps with impossibly tall heels towered over

him. He kissed her shoes. She put one foot on the
toilet and pointed at her pussy. He licked her as she
curled her lip at him. She grabbed him by the hair and
ground his face into her cunt, twisting her mouth into
grimace of grotesque ecstasy. Satisfied for the moment,
she bent him over the toilet, sat on his back, and
slapped his bottom with her bare hand. Ginny turned the
page. A hairbrush had appeared from nowhere, and the
woman pounded the man's cheeks with it until they
darkened in the grainy black-and-white photographs. The
spread finished with a shot of the woman, still sitting
on the man, looking straight into the camera with an
expression of triumph as she masturbated with her legs
spread wide. The people were not good-looking, and
their poses and expressions were short of convincing;
the tawdry feeling excited the young girl immensely.
Her mouth was dry, but her pussy was more than moist.
She rubbed herself absently between her legs as she
turned the pages.
     Ginny heard a noise in the street, and she quickly
restored the magazine to its place in the envelope,
noting the presence of at least one more as she slipped
it in. She jiggled the dresser back into position, and
dashed into her bedroom, running to listen at the
window. A car drove off, but after that she heard
nothing. The young girl lay on her bed and hugged
herself with her arms folded across her chest. False
alarm. That's OK. Gotta think... Who put those things
there? Couldn't be Mom. Dad? But he's so tough! Wait a
minute. What about that silky underwear? That's his for
sure, even though it doesn't go with his image. That
stuff's gotta be his. That mean that he's...he's like
the guys in the pictures! He wants women to push him
around. No, wait. Maybe both of them like it that way.
Maybe Mom dresses up like in the magazine and... Ginny
got a flash of her mom, dressed in shiny black leather,
spanking her father as he leaned across her lap. If
they both like to do that stuff, they'll have some
clothes, something that would give them away. Have I
looked everywhere? I thought I had, but it took me
until today to find the magazines. Ginny's pulse headed
back towards normal. I need to keep looking, mused the
girl, her hand returning to her crotch. She undid her
shorts and pushed them down her legs. She shoved her
panties aside and slipped two fingers between her pussy
lips. They emerged covered in slippery goo. Ginny
moaned as she tossed about on the bed, thinking of the
women in the magazine and the men they controlled.
                *           *             *
Ginny stood in the center of her parent's bedroom,
looking around as she chewed on her index finger. Two
systematic searches had turned up nothing. She was
beginning to form a theory about her parents. Dad's
hiding the magazines from Mom, not just me. Otherwise
there'd be some kind of clue, a whip, a paddle, some
leather thing... That means Mom's not into it. Did Dad
ever ask her? Maybe he's ashamed of feeling that way.
So what's he do with the magazines? Just look at them
when Mom's not home? Nah, he's probably just like the
guys with their Penthouse mags, I'll bet he beats his
meat while he flips the pages. Is that what he does
those Saturday afternoons when Mom's out shopping and

he goes in the bedroom and locks the door? Is he lying
on the bed with a big ol' boner, just whacking off to
beat the band? The thought excited her, and she went in
her bedroom and brought herself off again, this time
thinking about her father.
                *           *             *
Ginny sat in the passenger's seat of Jack's car after
school. The day was warm, but not warm enough to
explain the perspiration beading on the girl's forehead
and the spreading wetness under the arms of her thin
white blouse. Ginny smiled and waved distractedly at
some of her friends as they spread through the parking
lot; her fingers fluttered in her lap as she picked at
the dark-brown beach towel covering her legs to her
waist. Occasionally, when nobody was close, the girl
let a discreet whimper escape her lips, and her hips
twitched irregularly under the terry cloth. In the dark
under the towel, Jack crouched in the footwell and
serviced Ginny's pussy. He was very warm in the
enclosed space, and he could no longer sort out all the
sources of wetness around his face: the copious
emissions from Ginny's excited pussy, the girl's sweat
that covered her belly and soaked her thick black bush,
Jack's own perspiration, beading on his face and
dripping down his cheeks and dripping off his nose and
jaw onto the car seat between Ginny's legs, and the
moisture from Jack's aroused breathing. The boy's head
reeled from the intoxicating smells: pencil shavings,
urine, musk, and sweat. The muscles at the base of his
tongue ached from the effects of his earnest and
persistent efforts to satisfy the teenager. She had
already come twice, and seemed to be in no hurry for
the third orgasm: she'd whispered twice for him to slow
down. Slowly, the girl climbed up to another climax;
her stomach muscles convulsed deeply and she swallowed
a gasp. As she came down she slumped further in the
seat and pressed lightly on the back of Jack's head;
the boy obediantly worked his tongue between buttocks
slick with pussy drippings and lapped at Ginny's
asshole, slack and loose after the repeated stimulation
of her clitoris. The boy knew what she wanted; he
worked his tongue deep inside.