Aunt Cathy Pt. 01


Fetishes are odd things. What totally turns one person on disgusts another. I’ve got mine and I keep them to myself for the most part. The few times I go to chat places I don’t ask others about theirs, if they want me to know they’ll say something. Sometimes things can get found out by accident. So it was with my aunt Cathy’s obsession.

Mom’s sister is six years younger than her and hot as fuck. If I had a nickel for every drop of cum I’d fapped out over her I’d be financially set. I swear she’s made of ideal girl parts. Shoulder length, caramel colored hair, a heart shaped face with the sultriest brown eyes, and her lips? Beautifully full bottomed with a the most cock hardening shade of purple-pink gloss lipstick you’ve ever seen.

(I stole a tube of that lipstick one time and put it on a B.J masterbater I’d bought. Wasn’t funny when it stained my dick and I had to explain it in the school locker room shower. Worked out though, told them some girl had to much on and walked out. School cred for that lie.)

Most guys today would say she has heavy hangers for tits. They’re not though, just real and big. When she bends over the cleavage is mouth- watering; trust me on that. At thirty-four she has just a tiny hint of a belly with a ass that jiggles just enough you can’t help but stare. And those legs. Perfectly portioned, days long, and more often than not in heels and stockings.

There are two problems with her, the first one (I bursa escort guess it’s more of my problem than hers) is she’s a hugger. A sweetly perfumed, hotter than hell, pull you tight to her tit’s hugger. I’m not ‘gifted’ by any means, but those hugs cause a noticeable bulge. At sixteen no big deal, your young, chalk it up to hormones, but after you turn eighteen? Best to hope no one notices.

(Word of advice, no duct tape. Hurts like a son of a bitch and DON’T WORK. Yeah, I did, desperate times and all that. Just deal with the looks.)

The second problem is when it comes to her computer, she’s clueless. Unfortunately, I’m not, so every time she comes around, I get to play comp geek. It’s not a big deal, but it is how I found out about her preoccupation.

Cathy rarely came around for birthdays she lived to far away. For the cost of a return air ticket and birthday present she could triple my stakes in the gift department. That’s how she explained it anyway. Wasn’t going to be the case this year. The candles on my cake had been blow out, mom was cutting slices, and the back-kitchen door half opened.

Aunt Cathy leaned in. Those candied lips forming, as far as I was concerned, a perfect blow job circle of mock surprise. Her low buttoned silk blouse was trying to hold in a set of nipple hard, no bra boobs; and it was winning. The little pearls playing unfair, keeping that mouthwatering cleavage intact.

My bursa escort parents drink but there no good at it. Three shots of whiskey for dad and anything and everything is hilarious. Mom, and my aunt are both wine gigglers. Get them going you get two sisters trying to prove who teased better back in the day. The door started to open more till dad piped up. “I don’t hear no singing, can’t sing, can’t come in.”

With a burst of wine giggles, she backed outside. I watched mom plop her head in her hand laughing, “Oh god. Your drunk.” Another burst of giggles from the door. Mom held her wine glass up, “Well let’s hear it.”

From outside the door Cathy put on her best valley girl voice, “Like OHMIGAWD, you SOOO asked for this, So like TOTALY FER-SHUR you can’t get mad.”

Dad was already laughing. Mom, her wine glass still up giggled harder.

More giggles from behind the door, “Here she goes,” I was expecting a drunk version of happy birthday, instead I heard this from my aunt.

“Oh my god what a surprise,

Here I am with bottles of wine,

Where is the man that turned nineteen?

Tonight, he shares my bed with me!”

Dad lost it, Mom screamed, “Cathy, oh my god.” I just sat there stunned trying not to drop my jaw. The lips and cleavage had already got me hard, that little song just made my bulge ache. It only got worse when she ta-dah’d the rest of herself in.

You bursa eskort know how girls do that sort of short, stepped tap dancey thing? Arms wide open and everything jiggling as they head towards their B.F.F’s for a hug? That’s what my aunt did on her way to my mom. Bad enough her tits were bobbing around, but when I saw what she was wearing from the waist down? It almost fucking killed me. Ever wish you could point to your dick and say, “Down boy,” and it would listen?

That perfect ass was wearing the sexiest, slit backed mini skirt I’d ever seen. That slit was just enough I could see she was wearing thigh highs. Silky sheer with a line of tiny diamonds running down the back, a bow of rhinestones sat just above her heel backs. I’d never seen six-inch black velvet pumps before. I love them now. Dad was at the door bringing luggage in, Cathy and mom were giggling away, and I turned ghost white when I noticed my jeans.

Bet I looked down and up twenty times hoping I was imaging things, but nope, in fact it was getting worse. Right where the tip of my groaning cock was trapped, a dark wet spot had formed. At first it was nickel sized, then a quarter, eventually growing to a good two inches around. All I could think was, “Just kill, I’m nineteen, life’s been good,” I looked at Cathy. “Ok, maybe could have at least been one night better, but I’m ready.”

Some prayers just don’t get answered. In fact, I’m convinced there’s some asshole that run’s interception just to make things worse. Instead of the reprieve I’d asked for I heard, “Ok lover boy, where’s my hug?” All her lusciousness just standing there with open arms. A hard on was bad enough, but a pre cum blotch too? What the hell was I going to do now?

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