The Best Erotic Stories.

A Summer Holiday
by Alfred A

As I put pen to paper on this cold November evening in the year 193_, my failing body gratefully absorbs the heat of the roaring fireplace in my drafty study. This diminishing corpus of mine has experienced incredible depths of joy, yearning and passion over the many years of its existence, but now all that is left are the memories. It is to preserve these beyond the expiration of this shrinking clay that I have begun this transcription.

My adventures have been such that they needed be carried out with the utmost discretion. The societal mores of the time, indeed of the present time, would have required that those who participated in them, including myself, be subjected to the harshest censure. The scandals would have destroyed my means of livelihood, as well as blackened the reputations of those participants whose sensuality and love of pleasure were surely the business only of themselves; not the business of those whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to prevent others from enjoying what they themselves could not have.

The names, places and dates have been changed in order to protect those involved. Some will attempt to determine my identity by analysing the internal evidence of these writings, but they will gain nothing from these data. Some of the relationships have been altered, and indeed some of the events have been constructed from happenings that occurred on more than one occasion, although none of them were made from whole cloth. This serves the double purpose of obscuring any evidence that might identify these events or myself, and of creating a more titillating story. I make no apologies for this; the purpose of these writings is not to provide a historical document, but to allow an old man to relive the parts of his life which caused him the greatest pleasure and perhaps to give some pleasure to those who read them after his departure from this mortal coil.

As I begin my writing of these reminisces, I have no idea how long they will continue. My criteria for continuing to record them are that they are of interest to me and that I can remember them well enough to do them justice. And of course, my ability to keep the Grim Reaper at bay.

I have arranged with my solicitors in London to take each tale as I finish it and keep it in confidence. Whatever I have finished when death overtakes me shall be gathered together and kept private until the year 2000, the birth of a new millenium. At this time, all involved shall be dead and the stories may be released. I hope that these manuscripts shall see a more sexually enlightened era, one that will find amusement at the posturing and hypocrisy of the era in which I was forced to live my life.

I hope it; but I doubt it.

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I arrived in the village of Stansted on June 13, 187_. The train trip from London had been most enjoyable; I had shared a compartment with a lovely young lady and her governess. After some initial awkwardness, the conversation with the young lady had become pleasantly animated and the aunt had joined in. A few attempts at flirting with the younger of my two companions had come to naught, but the governess' attitude toward me had been quite bold. I felt that had I been alone with her in different circumstances, our relationship would have taken a more intimate course. As it was, I had to leave them both on the train, though not before obtaining the address of the young lady against a possible future visit to her parents' estate in H_. Ah, well.

My journey to Stansted was for the purpose of spending the summer on the estate of Lady Martha, my mother's sister, and her husband John, an entrepreneur of no small success. Though Uncle John's business concerns were mostly in London, Stansted was close enough that he was able to spend considerable time on his estate, although protracted stays in London were not unheard of. My parents, Edward and Katherine A, with whom I usually spent my summers while attending Cambridge, had embarked upon a combination pleasure and business cruise to some of their holdings in the colonies; they would be gone until after I was due back at University in the fall.

As I disembarked from the train, I espied Aunt Martha on the platform. She smiled warmly when she saw me and I strode forward to give her a brief hug and peck on the cheek.

"Alfred," she exclaimed, as she held me at arms' length as though to take a better look at me, "it's so good to see you! I was beginning to think my sister was deliberately keeping you to herself, although I can't really blame her. "

"It's good to see you as well, Aunt Martha," I replied, pleased with her enthusiastic greeting.

"Williamson," she said to a middle aged man who had been standing discreetly behind her, "please see to Mr. A_'s baggage."

"Yes M'Lady," replied the fellow as he touched his cap and turned to the task.

The carriage ride to the estate was pleasant, and was filled with the exchange of minutiae that was common between two relatives who had had little communication for some time. In due course we turned into the gates to the estate and drove up a winding cobblestone path flanked by towering oaks which provided shade at all times of the day. The fragrance from the flowerbeds surrounding the house produced a feeling of well being that bode well for a pleasant stay.

As we alighted from the carriage, Aunt Martha turned to Williamson and said, "Put Mr. A_ in the Blue Room, Williamson."

Williamson touched his cap and began to unload the luggage.

Aunt Martha touched my arm lightly. "When you've freshened up, come down to the garden for drinks with Uncle John and me. He's looking forward to seeing you."

I said that I would and followed Williamson through the front door and up the winding staircase.

The Blue Room was quite pleasant, with large windows; a door that opened onto a small patio; and a closet that I fancied was as large as the small dormitory room to which my undergraduate status had relegated me. The décor was of course blue; curtains, bedspread and carpet; even a reproduction of Gainsborough's Blue Boy on the wall above the bed.

As I was perusing the clothing in the closet for attire appropriate to the occasion, I noticed what appeared to be a small gouge about shoulder high in the back of the closet in the right hand corner. Upon closer inspection however, I discovered it to be quite deep. I put my eye to it and found that it went all the way through the wall and gave a view of the room next door. I could see that it was a bedroom, but I saw nothing except for the bed, part of a nightstand and the window on the opposite wall. Supposing that some careless servant had caused the damage without informing his employer for fear of reprimand, I resolved to tell my uncle about it.

As I entered the garden, my uncle rose with a large smile on his ruddy face and came toward me, holding out his hand with the appearance of great pleasure at my arrival.

"Alfred my boy!" he boomed. "Welcome! Good to see you!"

"Good to see you, too, Uncle," I responded, taking the proffered hand. "I'd like to thank you and Aunt Martha for inviting me to spend the summer with you."

"Not at all!" he exclaimed. "Our pleasure! We don't get to see you that often and it's a treat to have you."

After having gotten my drink preference, he conveyed it to a maid who was standing next to my aunt and steered me to a chair that faced both of my hosts. We chatted happily over the drinks and brought everyone up with the family happenings including a minor scandal involving the pregnancy of a young schoolgirl who was sent away to be cared for by the matriarch of the family.

A light summer dinner followed the preprandial libations; later a good wine mixed with convivial conversation produced a pleasant, relaxed state that was most enjoyable. When we finally said good night, I felt that the summer had gotten off to a most salutary start.

As I began undressing for bed, I thought I heard voices coming from the closet. Puzzled, I investigated and found that they were coming from the hole in the closet wall. Entering the closet fully, I pulled the doors to and put my eye to the hole. To my great surprise, I saw that the room into which the hole gave belonged to my aunt and uncle! Fascinated, I continued to watch and shortly was greeted by the arrival of my aunt removing her dress; she remained clothed in her bodice and knickers. The sight apparently did more than fascinate my uncle; he shortly came up behind her, put his arms around her and cupped her breasts. She closed her eyes with a small smile on her face and leaned her head backward as my uncle began to nuzzle her neck and massage her breasts. I had been aware that my aunt was an attractive woman, of course; but the sight of her in her underthings with her breasts being massaged produced in me a reaction that I had never considered receiving from my mother's sister. A shock went from the base of my spine upward and my manhood leaped forward creating a slightly uncomfortable bulge in my pants. I attempted to remove my pants while keeping my eye pressed against the hole, but this produced a ridiculously awkward situation; I removed my eye from the hole while quickly, but quietly, disrobing.

When I returned my eye to the hole, I found that things had progressed apace. My aunt's bodice had been discarded and uncle was massaging her naked breasts from behind. They were indeed magnificent, with large dark aureoles, and the nipples distended magnificently. As I watched, she moved forward, pulled the covers down from the bed, got into it and moved to the opposite side. As she did this, uncle was removing his pants and shoes with alacrity and soon had gained the position next to her. His head bent over her and he began sucking the nipple of her right breast while he massaged her left breast with his hand. Her hands clasped behind his head and urged his mouth to greater motion. Her head went back and small moans began to escape from deep in her throat.

At this point I answered my member's insistent demands for attention and grabbed it with my right hand, slowly stroking it up and down while watching the erotic play unfolding in the next room. My breathing began to increase in frequency and volume and I had to consciously suppress it for fear of discovery.

My aunt removed her left hand from behind her husband's head and reached down between them to grasp his manhood. As she did so, he gave a deep moan and she began stroking it up and down vigorously. Thus inspired, he moved his right hand over her knickers between her legs, and began to massage her mound of Venus. As she opened her legs and turned toward him to assist him, her moans began to come more frequently and loudly. My own stokes began to come faster and I had to prop myself against the back wall of the closet with my left hand to keep my weakening knees from betraying me and pitching me onto my face. Suddenly my uncle pulled himself back, grabbed her knickers and quickly stripped them down and threw them onto the floor. As he crawled between her legs, she grabbed her knees and pulled them back toward her chest. When he was in position, she reached down to grasp his member and helped him guide it into her moist sheath. He slowly began to push forward but she suddenly thrust her hips up and buried him to the hilt; moans of pleasure escaped both of them simultaneously. He began to thrust vigorously as she wrapped her legs and arms around him; it seemed as though she was trying to get as much of him inside her as possible. As they moved together toward climax, my pressure was building and I was having difficulty maintaining my vigil at the view port. Finally my aunt climaxed with a loud moan which inspired my uncle to follow suit shortly thereafter.

I removed my eye from the hole, dropped to my knees as quietly as I could and continued the rapid stroking which soon resulted in a powerful eruption that left me shuddering and gasping for breath. When my breath had quieted, I rose on shaky legs and peered through the hole. The lamp had been extinguished and I could make out nothing but indistinct mounds on the bed. I reversed my previous resolve to tell my uncle about the hole. Obtaining a cloth, I cleaned the closet and myself and reflected that, as I had thought earlier, summer had indeed gotten off to a salutary start.

When I awoke the next morning, I discovered that my manhood had arisen before me. Visions of the erotic demonstration I had witnessed the night before had dominated my dreams and were still swirling in my head. My subconscious had taken liberties with reality and in many of the dreams I had taken the role of my uncle. The thought of my aunt's lush body shuddering beneath my own was the final straw; I quickly took matters into my own hand until I again emptied my reservoir of love juice.

I went downstairs and found no one in the dining room or morning room, so I went into the kitchen in search of something with which to break my fast. There I found a maid, the one who had served us in the garden the previous evening. She looked up as I came in and I said,

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Mister A_," she said with a smile. "I'm Linda. Lady Martha has instructed me to tell you that she and your uncle will be gone until afternoon and that I am to serve your breakfast."

Linda was a plump, cheerful looking girl with auburn hair and soft, luscious curves. Her breasts pressed against her bodice in an enticing fashion and the top two buttons of her dress were discreetly unfastened. She stood in a way that put extra weight on one leg and caused a slight but delectable pressing of her hip against her dress. I felt a faint stirring in my loins, but because of my activities before coming downstairs, the effect was not noticeable.

"Thank you, Linda," I replied, smiling. "I hope you're ready for some work, because I have quite an appetite."

"I'm sure that I'll be able to prepare anything you want. The larder is well stocked and my instructions are that your needs come before my regular duties."

I wasn't sure whether she was flirting, or whether the events of the previous night had given a lascivious patina to everything, so I gave her my breakfast order and went into the patio to enjoy the morning air.

The breakfast was delicious and plentiful and I thanked Linda for her efforts. Having nothing better to do, I strolled around the house remembering the trips my family used to make to visit Aunt Martha and Uncle John. Soon I became a little drowsy and went into the parlour to take a nap.

When I awoke about an hour later, I wandered into the kitchen looking for something to drink. Finding no one there, I helped myself to some milk from the icebox. As I stood drinking it, I heard faint sounds coming from the next room. The door was slightly ajar and thinking that there was another servant working there, I went over and pushed the door a little more open. I was taking a drink of milk and barely kept it from spurting from my nose as I reacted to the sight that greeted me. There on one of the cane chairs in the small room was Linda. Her back was at a slight angle to me but I could see well enough to tell that she had her dress pulled up and her right hand was between her legs vigorously massaging her clitoris. I stared motionless for a few seconds, then a determination stole over me. The previous night I had stood and watched while others had pleasured themselves but today I was to be a participant, not a voyeur.

Setting the milk glass quietly down on the counter, I stole behind her and stood watching over her shoulder for a few seconds. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was open slightly and her breath was coming quickly. Her legs were spread widely and public hair was slightly damp as her middle and forefingers made rapid circular motions over her love button. In one movement, I moved around her and thrust my hands between her legs, moving her hand out of the way and replacing it with my right hand. She gave a small scream, then tried to push my hand away. I was to have none of that; I put my left arm around her back to hold her and inserted my middle finger into her quim, moving it rapidly.

"No, please!" she gasped. "No, I don't want to. Please leave me alone."

"You don't want to?" I asked incredulously. "What were you doing when I came in? It didn't look like someone who didn't want to." My finger had encountered no maidenhead, so I knew she was no virgin. I moved my finger up and started to massage her clitoris.

"No, not with a man! I don't want a child!" She choked this out, but a small shudder occurred when she finished.

"There are ways to prevent children," I said

"I can't take that chance," she wailed.

My member had gained its full volume and was chaffing at its confinement. I picked her up and laid her on the table. Holding her down with my left hand, I pulled down my trousers with my right. I knew that I would have to get some looser trousers, or risk serious injury at some time when removing my trousers would prove impossible or inadvisable. I pulled the chair up to the table, sat on it and pulled her toward me; pushing her legs up, I slid my arms under them. I brought my hands around to her mound, held her hands away with my left while separating her labia with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand and thrust my tongue at her love button. A gasp interrupted her protestations and I set to performing cunnilingus with a passion. Her clitoris was greatly distended and was reddish purple, which enflamed me even more. Soon her hips began to thrust at my mouth and all of the protestations vanished. I released her hands and she put them on top of my head to urge me on. I needed no such urging, but applied my tongue to her button with vigor unmatched. Shortly she began to shudder and then climaxed with a squeal as she arched her back, lifting her shoulders off of the table. As she subsided, I slowed the action of my tongue, but still produced a number of tremors. Finally she gently pushed my head away and I sat back in my chair.

I got up and leaned over her and kissed her deeply. She responded languidly.

"You see," I said, "not a chance for a child."

She smiled. "I've been wanting to find a man who will do that for me for a long time," she said. "Two of my lovers agreed to at the start, but eventually insisted on penetration." She sat up, looked down at the projection from my loins, and giggled. "I see that you have some business that needs resolution. Sit down in the chair."

I sat in the chair and she kneeled before me. She took my manhood in her hand and slowly stroked it. It was so sensitive that I jumped. She smiled slightly, then gently licked the underside. I moaned and arched my back, thrusting my hips toward her. She slowly slid it into her mouth and began moving her head up and down. The sensation was so exquisite that I felt that I would climax, but she made a circle of her thumb and middle finger at the base of my root and squeezed. Instantly the urge to climax was gone and she resumed sliding it in and out of her mouth. She then started to rub her tongue on the underside, causing sensations that almost brought me off of the chair. The movement of my member in and out of her soft, moist mouth, coupled with the friction of her tongue on the most sensitive part of that organ, soon sent me inalterably toward climax. The pressure built up steadily until I put my palms flat on the chair, brought my hips up into her face, arched my back, and exploded into her mouth. As the second and third loads of love juice were pumped into her mouth, she swallowed mightily and was able to consume all but a slight trickle that flowed onto her chin. She kept my manhood in her mouth as it subsided and I relaxed back into the chair. When she finally let me out of her mouth, she laid her cheek on my thigh with a small, self-satisfied smile on her lips; a smile that was well deserved indeed. I left Linda with mutual professions of desire to continue our oral ecstasies.

Over the next few days, however, I had no opportunity to pursue this much desired course of action because my aunt and uncle were always present. They were doing their best to entertain me by introducing me to neighbors and friends who came to their estate for teas, dinners or picnic lunches. I felt this loss not as much as might be supposed; for although the desirable and willing Linda was a treat indeed for a man at the peak of his sexual urges, the focus of my lust increasingly became my Aunt Martha. I realized the enormity of the possible repercussions that could ensue should I manage, in spite of the multitudinous obstacles to it, to vent my passion on the delectable body of my mother's sister. This did not diminish my fantasies one iota, and I was continuously weaving and rejecting possible scenarios for her seduction.

One evening Aunt Martha gave a dinner party for a small group of friends. It was a warm and sultry evening with a slight breeze that made it quite comfortable. There was a young woman my age with whom I flirted pleasantly for a good deal of the evening, under the approving eye of her mother who was no doubt quite willing to make her daughter a match with the heir of a substantial commercial concern. When the evening drew to a close and we were saying our good-byes alone in the entryway, the young lady leaned forward and gave me a kiss and embrace of some passion, which she did not end until footsteps sounded in the hall. She withdrew with a smile and turned, exiting by the front door and descending the steps with a saucy bounce to her step. I turned with a pensive demeanor and said good night to the other guests as they appeared.

When the guests were gone, Uncle John asked if Aunt Martha and I would like to join him in a nightcap.

"No thank you, dear," Aunt Martha said to him. "I'm a bit tired so I'm going to go to bed. You and Alfred go ahead."

We said our good nights and Uncle John led me to the terrace where he fixed drinks for us, the servants having been let go after dinner had ended. We sat down in two well-padded and extremely comfortable chairs and sipped our drinks.

We spoke of this and that: of what I would do upon graduation (take a trip to see a good part of the world before joining my father in his business); of the possibilities for underwriting ships through Lloyds (he was against it); and of the plans of Otto Von Bismarck for his newly amalgamated Germanic state (he thought that Europe had nothing to worry about because Bismarck would be too involved in consolidating his gains, and I thought that he should be watched carefully, especially once his consolidation began to obtain completion.)

I had noticed that Uncle John's capacity for liquor was quite remarkable, and he refilled his glass with some regularity while I sipped parsimoniously at my first. Eventually the conversation lagged, and we sat companionably in the cooling evening air. After some little time, I heard a noise from uncle's chair and turning to look at him, saw that he was asleep. He appeared to be comfortable, so I left and went up to my room without disturbing him.

As I undressed, my letch for my aunt, never far from the surface, arose with a noticeable urgency. I quickly completed my undressing and entered the closet; I closed the doors behind me and pressed my eye to the hole. The lamp was extinguished, so I gave a silent prayer of thanksgiving that the moon was near full and was shining into the room, casting a pale silver illumination on the figure of my aunt lying in her bed. She was on her back with the covers pulled down and wore a thin sheath that showed clearly the swells of her luscious breasts and mound; it came down no more than a third of the distance between her the Y of her legs and her knees.

I watched her soft bosom rising and falling for a few minutes, then she turned onto her left side facing me. With her right hand, she reached down her leg, pulled the sheath up to the top of her thigh and scratched. She let her hand fell in front of her with a sigh, leaving her beautifully sculpted thigh and a small portion of her dark public hair open to my scrutiny. As my eyes drank in the lewd scene in the next room, a plan occurred to me that was so audacious that I had to pause for a moment to question my own sanity at considering it. Although I could come to no conclusion regarding my sanity, I determined to put the plan into action.

I stole quietly from the closet and went to the bedroom door. Peering carefully into the hall, I saw that it was empty. Exiting the room, I crept to the end of the hall and looked out the window that overlooked the patio. Uncle John was sitting right where I had left him, to all appearances still fast asleep. I drew a deep breath and exhaled silently, then slowly walked over to the door to my aunt and uncle's bedroom. I grasped the doorknob, pulled the door slightly toward me and slowly, ever so slowly, turned the knob. When it reached the full extent of its play, I pushed the door open a few inches and paused. No sound came from the room. I pushed the door open further. The hallway was almost completely dark so that it was likely that even should my aunt look my way she would be unlikely to discern me at the door. I took no chances; when the door was open sufficiently for me to slip into the room, I did so and slowly closed the door, allowing the knob to silently return to its rest position.

Letting my eyes adjust to the illumination in the room, I saw that my aunt had resumed her position on her back but the sheath was still pulled up to the top of her right thigh and her legs were slightly apart. This gave me a view of almost all of her pubis. I stood there for a few moments drinking in the sight, sans pants and quelled a momentary quiver of fear at my exposed position. Praying that my uncle was a sound sleeper, I crept toward her. When I reached the foot of the bed, I carefully put a knee on it and lay down on my chest, slid my hands under the bottom of her thighs and pushed her shift up over her hips. This was the crux; if she believed I was Uncle John, I was in (literally); if she recognised me, all was lost. I used my thumbs to gently separate her labia, then began to slowly lick her clitoris. A deep chuckle came from her throat and her hand came down to the back of my head. I thanked anyone who was listening that my uncle was a vigorous man who had not started to lose his hair and that it had a texture similar to my own. My tongue made circular motions over her love button and I periodically took it between my lips and played with it. When I did this, tremors ran down her thighs and she arched her back, rubbing her heels against my back. I continued the circular motions of my tongue, increasing the speed and pressure applied. She grasped my hair tightly but not painfully and began moaning, interspersing the moans with sharp inhalations. Within moments she reached down and grabbed me under the arms from the back and pulled me toward her. Not averse to this direction, I slid up on my knees between her legs. She reached down and grasped my member, guiding it toward her love canal and inserting the head. Remembering her thrust last night as uncle's manhood began its entrance, I made a convulsive thrust of my hips and drove my root in to the hilt. She gasped in pleasure and I wasted no time in establishing a rhythm that brought more and deeper moans from the back of her throat. She wrapped her legs around my waist, giving maximum exposure of her quim to my penetrating organ.

"Yes, yes, yes," she began to whisper. "Yes, yes, yes."

She squeezed me with her arms then lightly dug her nails in as her moans became practically continuous. The pain was exquisite and increased my pleasure immensely.

"Now, now," she moaned as she began to quake from the orgasm that was racing through her body. Pressure was building up in my loins and my climax was quickly approaching. All at once she grasped me with a vigor that was hitherto unknown to me and gave a deep moan as she reached the climax of her pleasure. My pleasure peaked a few strokes later and we held that tableau for a long moment as the quivers and quakes subsided in our bodies. She collapsed slowly back onto the bed and I lay atop her supporting myself on my elbows and knees. She ran her hands through my hair and pulled my mouth down for a long, slow kiss that sent a slight quiver through my shrinking manhood. She felt it for she gave a little giggle and squeeze. I returned the favor with a slight thrust of my hips.

Another crucial moment was at hand. Was it reasonable that Uncle John would get up and leave his bed after making love to his wife? I could lie beside her for a time, but this would increase the chances of my discovery. It was a quandary that I had been aware of but had not considered carefully before, having had other things on my mind. I decided on a bold approach. Sliding off to her right side I sat up partially, gave her a deep kiss and a few caresses, and got up as though I had to use the chamber pot. She delicately turned her back toward me and I used the opportunity to slip over to the door, open it and leave. The hall was empty with no sounds of anyone approaching and I went back to my room with no one the wiser.

I checked on Aunt Martha through the hole when I returned to find that she had apparently already fallen asleep. I returned to my bed knowing that there was still the possibility of my discovery. Uncle John could wake up, come to bed and find his wife lying in a pool of love juice. Or she could mention their supposed lovemaking to him the next morning. Or he could mention that he spent all night asleep on the patio. Or, or, or. I decided that there was nothing for it but sleep and lay there in sated exhaustion, pushing all else from my mind.

My apprehension over the possible discovery of my surreptitious coupling with my aunt diminished over the next few days as no cries of outrage occurred. As my fears diminished, they were replaced by urgings for a reprise of my carnal episode with Aunt Martha. Knowing that a repeat of the circumstances that produced my previous opportunity would not likely recur brought naught but frustration.

I engaged in another oral tryst with Linda, but it was somewhat less than fully satisfying for me. I believe that Linda noticed this, but she did not mention it, for which I was grateful. Foreseeing the entire summer with only Linda as a substitute for my true desire produced a mood in me of understandable melancholia.

Aunt Martha noticed this, for she made concerted efforts to bring me to a more congenial state of mind. I cooperated as I could, but betimes asked her indulgence and stayed to myself, for truly, being in her presence was painful for me. Much of my time was spent riding around my uncle's estate, eating solitary lunches and bemoaning my plight.

One rather dreary morning as I breakfasted with my hosts, Uncle John announced that he would be gone for a few days; he had gotten word by telegraph that morning that a ship in which he had a vested interest had docked and he was to oversee the disposition of his goods.

"You are welcome to come along", my uncle said to me. "You would be on your own most of the time, but I'm sure a young man could find things of interest in London", he continued. "It might bring you out of the funk that you seem to have gotten into."

"Thank you, uncle," I replied, "but I think not. I feel more comfortable here than I would wandering around London by myself."

"As you will," he said. "Come down if you change your mind."

I said that I would and the conversation turned to other matters.

The rest of the morning I made desultory efforts at amusing myself, but ended up spending a good deal of time staring out the window at the intermittent rain that the wind spat against it. It was getting toward noon when Aunt Martha came to me and announced that we would be having luncheon in the parlour. I attempted to demur, but she remonstrated.

"I should say not. You've been moping around here all day and the weather is foul enough without your adding to the atmosphere. Come join me. "

I realised with a pang of embarrassment that I had been indulging myself in my frustration, so I followed her into the parlour and sat beside her on the settee. The meal had already been laid and there were no servants in sight. In spite of my mood, the meal looked entirely edible; thick slices of ham and roast beef; loaves of rye and buttermilk bread; a tray full of relishes and condiments that appealed to the eyes as well as the tongue; and a bottle of red wine. She asked me to pour the wine and I did so while she began making sandwiches.

In spite of the pangs caused by her closeness, the wine and inconsequential conversation brightened my spirits and soon I was relaxed and enjoying the repast considerably. We finished the first bottle of wine with the meal and I opened the second and poured. Our conversation became somewhat more intimate as time passed and upon occasion her hand or arm brushed me pleasantly producing none of the frustration that I would have expected.

"You seem quite a bit more relaxed than earlier," she said.

"Thanks to you," I replied with a smile. "You knew just how to distract me from my self absorption."

"There is still a tenseness in you," she said, looking at me critically. "Turn around with your back toward me."

I did so, though puzzled. Her hands rested on my shoulders and her fingers began a gentle massage that became stronger and deeper as my muscles began to relax. It was most enjoyable. Her hands began to work down the middle of my back and produced additional relaxation, as well as an incipient arousal. Shortly she asked,

"Does that relax you?"

"Immensely," I replied.

"Good," she said. "Now you do it for me."

Though surprised, I was not averse to her suggestion. I turned to her to find that she was turning her back to me; she parted her hair at her neck with her hands and pulled it in front of her so as to give access to her neck and shoulders. I began a gentle massage that seemed to please her so I increased the pressure slightly and added a few light caresses to the sides of her neck. I must confess that this was adding to my arousal and I had to adjust my position slightly as I remembered a previous resolution to purchase looser trousers. She reached up to her left shoulder with her right hand and slid the top of her dress over her shoulder then did the same to the right. Looking over her shoulder I saw that she had loosened the top few buttons of her dress and had exposed a most enticing portion of cleavage.

My hands were now free to explore the exposed flesh of her neck and shoulders and I wasted no time in continuing the massage, alternating with caresses. I did not dare hope that this would prove to be a fulfillment of my fantasies; I continued my touches in a suspension of thought.

She gave a small sigh and a slight sinuous movement of her torso. She arched her neck slightly as she did this; I looked down the front of her dress and gained the sight of a broader expanse of her breasts than I had had previously. Again I had to adjust my position, then realised that I had no control over my desires; I would throw caution to the wind and accept what came. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the base of her neck. Feeling no resistance I began moving up her neck adding more kisses. A deep chuckle issued from her lips and thus boldened I reached around and grasped her magnificent breasts in my hands. She leaned backward slightly to give me better purchase and I began massaging her breasts and kissing the side of her neck with growing excitement. After a few moments she pushed my hands away gently, reached up and brought her dress off her shoulders and round her waist and put my hands on her naked breasts. The dark aureoles and distended nipples were sweet to both my eyes and hand; they both received their shares.

She turned around, clasped my head in both hands and gave me a deep and passionate kiss.

"Your room," she whispered. "I'll go first, then you follow in five minutes. The servants have the day off but I want to take no chances."

I nodded in agreement fearing that my mouth would not be able to function at my command. She smiled and gave me a light kiss, rearranged her dress and headed for the stairs.

That wait was the most excruciating of my life. There was no timepiece available, so I had not the slightest objective measurement of time's passage. Thus, one moment I felt that I had hours to wait and that I would prove to be incapable of restraint and the next moment I felt as though I had been sitting there forever. Finally I could endure it no longer and arose with utmost urgency, fairly racing up the stairs.

She was lying in my bed, covers to her waist with her clothing discarded in a pile on the floor near the door. I rapidly added mine to the pile and slid between the sheets next to her. She turned toward me and embraced me passionately, urgently pressing her lips to mine. I returned the kiss, sliding my hand down her back and onto her buttock. She pushed her pelvis toward me inviting further gluteal exploration. This I did, laying my middle finger between her cheeks and lightly rubbing it against her nether sphyncter. Her hips gave small thrusts as I did so.

She pulled back from me and got to her knees. Pulling the sheets from the bed she pushed me on my back then turned herself so that her head was toward the foot of the bed and got atop me. This caused her quim and clitoris to be fully exposed to my sight and as I quickly realised, to my tongue. As I reached forward to drink from her pool of Venus, her lips captured my member and the head slid deeply into her mouth. My member was sliding in and out of her mouth with the most incredible sensations centered at the base of my spine as I applied my tongue to the source of her nectar. I pushed it in as far as I could and moved it around first in a circular motion and then in and out. This was met with a gratifying thrusting of her hips as though to push it in even further. I then began a vigorous lapping of her love button that produced a series of moans from her, coupled with a circular motion of her hips. I was wondering how long I was going to be able to hold out when she pulled herself away.

She sat atop me facing me and immediately reached down, grabbed my manhood and put its tip against her opening. Slowly she began to rock back and forth inserting my organ an inch more with each backward movement. I vowed not to enter her with one thrust as I had done previously but let her do that which gave her the most pleasure. The insertion was completed with one final thrust; she leaned forward and rested her palms on my chest and began rocking. The expression on her face was one of unbridled lust and enjoyment and this added much to my own pleasure. I reached up and grasped her breasts, massaging them in time to her thrusting.

Little moans began to come from her throat as she increased the rhythm of her movements. My own passion was rising with hers and each stroke produced a sensation that I felt could not be equaled or surpassed; until the next one came.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned. "Now, now."

These sounds, harkening back to her climax of our previous encounter, were enough to send me over the top. As my member spurted its juices into her love canal she leaned forward and grasped me in a tight embrace with both arms and legs and her body convulsed with ecstasy. The convulsions continued for what seemed to be an interminable time, then slowly subsided. We lay in sated exhaustion for a few moments as our breathing returned to normal; she then gave me a slow, lazy kiss and moved off me to my side with my arm around her. Her head rested on my chest.

"That was incredible," I whispered.

"It was for me, too," she said, smiling. She paused slightly. "Have you made love to an older woman before this," she asked, with a curious gleam in her eye.

"No, you're the first one," I said, mentally arguing with myself that this wasn't a lie since she was the first one, although I didn't actually answer her question. She wasn't having it.

"I don't think you're telling the truth," she said roguishly. "I think you've had an older woman before today."

I was somewhat taken aback. Was she jealous of my imagined lover or just teasing? What would happen if I told her that my only other experience with an older woman was with her? Would she be disgusted, outraged? What a conundrum. Finally I decided to tell the truth.

"I have a confession to make," I said with some trepidation. "I have made love to an older woman before today."

I paused and she said with a mock severe expression on her face, "I thought so. Who was she?"

Gathering up my courage, I said, "It was with you - the other night - the night of the party - Uncle John and I stayed downstairs for nightcaps - and you thought it was him." A thin sheen of sweat had formed on my body.

To my great surprise, Aunt Martha burst out laughing; not a derisive laugh but one of great joy and which spoke of shared secrets. When she had subsided, she whispered,

"I knew it was you all along."

"You knew!" I exclaimed. "But you said nothing!"

"Of course not, silly boy," she said, running a hand through my hair. "I wanted it as much as you did."

"But how did you know?" I said puzzled. Apparently all of my precautions had not only been unneeded, but inadequate.

She laughed again lightly. "I knew as soon as your tongue touched me," she said. "Your uncle is a very good lover, but there are many variations of lovemaking that he simply won't do. Oral stimulation is one of them."

Good God! Of all the precautions that I had thought of, it had never occurred to me that I would be discovered by my preference for oral sex! Well, I thought, I might as well come completely clean and make a full confession.

"There's more," I said to her. "The first night I was here I found a hole in the closet of my room and it gave a very good view of your bedroom. I used it to watch you in bed with Uncle John."

"Of course you did," she smiled. "Why do you think I made it?"

I looked at her with what must have been shock on my face and she broke out laughing. I joined her and our laughter soon turned into another joyful round of intimacy.

 

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