Aunt Angela’s Nightmare

'Are you alright?' I asked, rather stupidly.

'David?' she asked into the blackness of the room.

'Yes, I'm here. It's fine, you were having a bad dream.'

'Oh my goodness, it was horrible. It's always horrible.' She started crying softly.

I was horrified, and filled with tenderness, and my male protective instinct took over. 'Come here,' I said, raising my arm, though she couldn't have seen it in the dark. She must have sensed it though because the next thing I knew was that my aunt was lying next to me, her head on my shoulder, her right arm across my chest and I could feel her heart racing and her breath hot on my neck. I put my arm round her and stroked her hair and told her it was all over and it was ok. I pulled the blankets back over her to keep her warm and eventually her teeth stopped chattering and her pulse slowed and her breathing became slow and even again and I realised that my Aunty Angela, dressed only in a ghastly winceyette nightie, had gone back to sleep in my arms.

Well that put me in a tricky situation. It was now obvious she was deeply asleep again and I didn't feel that I could wake her up, after her traumatic experience, by extricating myself. So I just lay there, my arm around her, my hand on her shoulder feeling her thin body against mine, her head resting on my shoulder, her face nestled into my neck, her hair tickling my cheek.

I did brush her hair away but more than that I didn't dare. Well, apart from wiggling my toes and waggling the fingers of my free hand.

Time passed and I began to relax. I also began to be more aware of my aunt's body as something soft and female: I could feel her right breast against my ribcage and I fancied I could feel her nipple through the winceyette. And I could feel the heat of her. I thought of the glimpse I'd had of her calves and ankles and, strangely, a warmth began to creep over me. Not a stifling warmth generated by two bodies pressed together under some blankets, but the warmth of sexual excitement. There were butterflies in my stomach and tendrils of excitement were stealing lower, towards my genitals. I was becoming hard.

Initially I tried to repress these feelings; this was my aunt! She was in her late fifties. She had greying hair and wrinkles for God's sake! But the feelings persisted. My penis stirred and swelled, stretching and retracting my foreskin. I recalled my last thought before sleep about the top of Aunty Angela's legs. I began to have dark thoughts about what she might look like down there. What she might smell like. What she might taste like.

My cock was now rigid. A mini baseball bat in my boxer shorts, the glans now fully engorged, lying on my abdomen, free of its protective cover and uncomfortable against the material of my makeshift pyjamas. I desperately wanted to adjust myself but was restrained by the appalling thought that my aunt might wake up and think I was fiddling with myself.

Eventually I could bear it no longer and I snuck my free hand under the waistband of my boxers and made some adjustments. The relief was immense. Except that now I was free to think about what Aunty Angela might look like naked. What would her breasts look like? Was she hairy or did she trim her pubic bush? It was so bizarre I almost laughed.

Eventually my thoughts became more ludicrous and unlikely. And more disjointed. Against the odds I was falling asleep again, Angela still clasped to me.

There was a pre-dawn light in the room when I woke again. Angela was still asleep, but as consciousness returned to me, so it did to her. She mumbled softly and raised her head, her eyes still almost closed. Then she opened them and seemed startled to see me there next to her.

'David! Oh, goodness. I had one of my nightmares, didn't I? Oh I am sorry. It must have been horrid for you! And you hugged me and made me feel better. That was very noble of you. Did you get back to sleep?'

'I did. I've only just woken up.'

Angela rolled over and looked at the little alarm clock on her bedside table. 'it's only just gone five but I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?'

She disappeared and I heard the toilet flush and noise from the kitchen and after a while she came back in with two mugs and put one on my bedside table. And while we drank them she told me about her nightmare, which she said she'd been having since her husband, Len, died.

'I get it about once a month. It's like a period, except worse! It's always the same: someone's trying to get into the house and I'm fighting them off and trying to wake my neighbours. It's horrible! And it lasts two or three nights.'

'So you'll have it again tonight?' I asked, faintly alarmed.

'Yes, probably. Although the second night's not usually so bad. And if there's a third, that's milder still.'

'You poor thing! Have you spoken to anyone about it?'

'My doctor. But he just prescribed sleeping tablets! I'm not taking drugs just because of a bad dream!'

After we'd had our tea we dozed again until seven when Angela had a bath and I had the water after her. It wasn't my idea of perfect cleanliness but that's all that was on offer. Actually I did experience a slight frisson of excitement as I sank into the scented water that had so recently held my naked aunt. I thought about masturbating, my cock was hard enough, but there was no lock on the bathroom door.

After breakfast, which was cornflakes and toast, I went and collected my car and parked it outside Angela's bungalow. It gave me a perverse pleasure to note that it was the newest car on the street. After that Angela pottered in her tiny garden and I fixed her leaking kitchen tap with a bag of tools she found under the sink. After I'd done the tap I had another go at the bed-settee but I couldn't budge it.

'Looks like you're stuck with me again tonight,' commented Aunty Angela as she came back into the living room just as I was giving up on the blasted thing. I gave her a smile and hoped I wasn't blushing. There was a faint deliquescence in my stomach and my cock twitched in my underpants. Get a grip, I thought, straightening up.

Then it was time to get into our glad rags: a grey suit for me and a flowery cotton dress for Angela. There was a last-minute panic when she discovered a torn seam under one arm but it was soon fixed.

She looked nice. The dress was cheap but pretty and fitted her thin frame well. She'd put on some makeup, which made her face fuller and softer and she'd rouged her full lips with a deep red lipstick.

I had insisted on paying for a taxi to the church, even though it meant asking to borrow a neighbour's phone to call one. It dropped us off outside the church where the guests were filing in.

An hour later we were having photographs outside, Huw and Sonia having been formally joined in Holy matrimony. Then the whole party walked the couple of streets to the hotel where the reception was being held in a large function room overlooking the garden and where we had the formal meal, a testament to nineteen-seventies Britain: prawn cocktail followed by roast beef and Black Forest gateau to finish.

Uncle Hubert, Huw's father, gave the first speech, which was embarrassing but mercifully short. Huw's speech was a touching tribute to his new wife, depicting her as a sort of cross between Marilyn Monroe and Mother Teresa. The best man's speech was a touching tribute to effects of drinking four pints of beer and a bottle of red wine during the meal and is best forgotten. Afterwards the tables were cleared to one side and the serious business of drinking and dancing got underway.

I'd had just enough to drink to not care how stupid I looked on the dancefloor and I enjoyed myself for a few hours dancing with all my female relations and catching up on family news, including a conversation with my dad about how I should be thinking of buying a place instead of renting. This lecture went on for some time and I was casting about for an excuse to wind it up when I saw Aunty Angela sitting by herself in a corner of the room. Amid all the buzz of conversation and the music and dancing, she seemed to be the only person on her own. I excused myself and went over to her.

'Are you ok, Angela?'

She smiled up at me. 'I'm fine, David. Are you enjoying yourself? You seem to be.'

I got us both a drink and sat with Angela for a few minutes chatting easily about weddings in general and the recent speeches in this one in particular.

'Come on,' I said, finishing my drink, 'let's dance.'

She made a token protest but allowed me to lead her to the floor where we jigged around to the likes of the Bee Gees, Boney M and Abba. There was more space on the dancefloor in this place than there had been in the working men's club and we smiled at each other and waved our arms and twisted our bodies to the rhythm of the music and Angela's face became flushed with pleasure and her smiles became wider and toothier. After four or five numbers the tempo was slowed for a while, I took Aunty Angela in my arms, and we moved around the floor quite gracefully. I was very aware of her warm, slightly damp body close to mine and felt the first stirrings of arousal. What I should have done then was to lead her back to a table and get us another drink while we cooled off, emotionally and physically. What I did do was to pull her slightly closer to me so that we were almost touching and her chin was resting on my shoulder. I put my hand between her shoulders and stroked her gently and discreetly with my thumb.

I could smell her scent and feel her hair against my cheek and I was reminded of holding her in bed the night before and the distinct possibility that I might get to do the same tonight. The thought was intensely pleasurable, my cock grew rigid and uncomfortable in my underpants, and I thought that if we danced any closer she'd be able to feel my hardness pushing against her. At that point the DJ announced that the next slow one would be the last of the set and after that we'd be back to disco stuff. So I took the opportunity to hold Angela that extra and exciting inch closer so that we were touching at practically all points above the waist. I also squeezed her hand a tiny bit tighter. A sort of erotic euphoria was coming over me, clouding my judgment and repressing sensible feelings. I could feel that my erection was pressing lightly into Angela's abdomen, but she made no move to pull away although she must have realised what it was. What she did do was to squeeze my hand back and grip it more firmly. She also squeezed my upper arm gently so I could feel her nails digging slightly into my skin through my shirt. I was in a state of heightened awareness and pleasure and the three minutes of slow dancing were over all too quickly and as the dying notes of the last slow number were playing I turned my head and kissed Angela on her cheek, leaving my lips there for a few seconds, smelling her scent and the fresh odour of her perspiration. Then the music changed to Gloria Gaynor and we broke apart and looked at each other.

'Can we get a drink?' she asked, into my ear. 'I'm about done in.'

She found a table and I got us both a white wine and we sat and made slightly stilted conversation. I tried to persuade Angela back onto the dancefloor but it was obvious she was finished for the evening. Besides, it was nine-thirty and the taxi was booked for ten. So we sipped our drinks and looked around the hall at our friends and family enjoying themselves and then it was time to say our goodbyes and climb into the battered old Ford that turned up to collect us.

'I'm sorry if I was a bit of a party poop this evening. I really enjoyed all the dancing we did but I just got so tired.' We were both in bed, having had the obligatory cup of tea as a nightcap and gone through the same routine with the bathroom as the night before. She was in that dreadful paisley-patterned nightie and I was in my boxers and T shirt. We both had books balanced on our knees.

'It was fine,' I reassured her. 'And the dancing was great,' I added.

'And thank you for looking after me. I was feeling a bit out of it until you came over and persuaded me to dance. I'm glad you did. It was lovely. Made me feel a bit younger for a while.'

A little later we put our books down and switched off out bedside lights. I thought about leaning over and kissing Aunty Angela goodnight but I didn't and the moment passed. After all the erotic thoughts I'd been having about my aunt over the weekend I thought I'd have trouble sleeping. Certainly my penis was wide awake, with the thought of her only a foot away in the bed. But five minutes after turning over I was dead to the world.

It was about an hour later that my aunt had her nightmare again. Like the night before it started with some low-level moaning, which woke me up, followed by loader groans and tossing and turning and finally by the screams of 'Get out, get out of my house!' and loud sobbing. I shook her awake and pulled her towards me and she came in under my arm, shivering and sweating at the same time, her heart racing, and nestled up against me, her arm across my chest. I made soothing noises, stroked her hair, and kissed the top of her head and she calmed down and her heartbeat slowed.

'Oh, David, I'm so sorry I disturbed you.'

'Well, you warned me there'd be a second night. I'm sorry for you that you have to put up with it.' I emphasised this by hugging her more tightly, feeling her small breast squash against my chest. She moved her head on my shoulder, finding a more comfortable position and making no move to leave my side. I lay still, enjoying the feel of her and thinking dark thoughts about her naked body under the nightdress. It was pitch black in the room. Aunt Angela said nothing more and I assumed she'd gone back to sleep. I tried to keep awake to savour the experience but it had been a long day, following a broken night, and I'd had a fair bit to drink, so I too fell asleep again.

It was dawn when I woke and everything was quiet in the bedroom. And I was snuggled up to Aunty Angela's back, my morning erection hard up against her narrow buttocks. We'd somehow changed to this position in the night whilst still firmly in the arms of Morpheus. I stayed frozen in place while I considered what to do next. My first thought was to stay put. It was a highly enjoyable sensation and I thought my aunt was asleep; I could hear her breathing, slow and regular. Then my conscience told me I should disengage, carefully so as not to wake her. I was considering how to do this when she said:

'Would you like some tea, David?'

Clearly she'd been awake for some time, probably longer than me. 'Thank you,' I said, 'that would be lovely.' I rolled over and away from her and she stretched and rolled over to face me.

'It's been a long time since anyone cuddled up to me like that,' she said, smiling. I wanted to go to the bathroom but I hated to disturb you and it felt so nice.'

She got up and went to the bathroom and I heard the faint tinkle of water; it really was a very small house. The sound further intensified my already sensitised condition and all I could think about was Angela, my aunt, mum's eldest sister, and how much I'd like to stroke her, hold her, touch her, and explore her body. Tall, thin women had never been my passion but I was becoming fixated with my aunt. And not just with her body. I liked the person that she was, liked being with her and talking with her. I couldn't understand why such a women was still alone ten years after being widowed.

She came back with the tea and we drank it in a companionable silence. I desperately wanted to urinate but if I got out of bed it would be obvious that I was sporting a raging hard-on. So I stayed put and eventually she got up and went into the kitchen and I dived into the bathroom.

We had a leisurely, if meagre, breakfast and I went out to a newsagent for the papers, which my aunt said was a special treat for her. Then I packed and we moved into the tiny hall while we said our goodbyes.

'Thank you so much for putting me up, Angela,' I began.

'Well it wasn't much! I couldn't even offer you your own bed. You had to share with your rickety old aunt. No, it's me that should be thanking you, for looking after me at Friday's do and at the wedding and especially for comforting me through my wretched nightmares. I'll miss you tonight,' she said, smiling that lovely toothy smile at me.

A feeling of tenderness and desire swept over me and I stepped forward and put my arms around my aunt. 'It's been lovely. I feel like I've got to know you for the first time as an adult.'

'It's been special for me too, David.'

I leaned forward slowly and kissed her gently on the lips. The contact lasted about three seconds before I pulled away and we looked at each other again, her brown eyes calm. My feelings intensified and I knew I had to do something to show her how I felt before I went home, so I leaned forward and kissed her again and this time I held the kiss and applied a tiny pressure and put the tip of my tongue against her full lips and pushed gently. Her mouth opened a fraction and my tongue slid in, finding hers. Then she broke away.

'I'm not sure, David,' she said, slightly breathlessly. 'I'm your aunt.'

And that, for the time being, was enough for me. I knew, because she had acknowledged it, that I had shown her that I wanted to be closer to her than just an aunt-nephew relationship. Now I should leave. I hugged her tightly then picked up my bag and left, waving as I opened the boot of my car to put my grip in. She waved too, from the front door, a forlorn figure in the late spring sunshine.

Driving back along the M4 I tried to rationalise what had happened. Had it really been such a good idea to stick my tongue in my aunt's mouth? She might be horrified. I might have alienated her completely. But somehow I thought not.

This thought, or rather hope, was confirmed a fortnight later. It was my twenty-fifth birthday and Aunt Angela sent me a book token, which I knew she could ill-afford, and a card. Inside the card she had written the following:

Dear David,

I hope you find something you want with the book token. Life here has been very dull here since the wedding -- the biggest excitement in my life for years!! And it was so nice to see you and to chat and to get to know each other. I feel as though I've made a new friend. Is that too presumptuous of me? I'm sure you've got plenty of friends in London and don't need an old aunt in a grotty Welsh mining town! It goes without saying that if you do find yourself in the Valleys (or anywhere remotely near) it would be really nice to see you and I promise I'll get something done about the bed if you stay over!

I'm sorry I'm not on the phone; it would be nice to chat. Maybe you could drop me a line with your news from time to time. I love getting letters, though it doesn't happen too often.

Love Angela xxxx

I read the card over twice. It certainly appeared that I hadn't offended her. In fact she was clearly keen to see me again, so it seemed, and was offering to put me up. I pondered for a few days then wrote her a brief letter:

Dear Angela,

Thank you for the book token, it was a very thoughtful gift and I am keeping an eye out for something special to spend it on. Thank you also for your card. I really enjoyed the weekend of the wedding and spending time with you too. Thank you also for your kind offer to put me up if I visit. As it happens my company are sending me to Cardiff for a few days in June and it would be great to see you then. They're putting me up at a hotel on Wednesday 13^th and Thursday 14th but I thought I could drive up to see you on Friday 15th and maybe stay the night. Would this be convenient?'