House Sitting for Aunty Jean

Paul could not mistake what she was referring to this time. The problem was he had no way of knowing whether he was big or not. He had never had the opportunity to make a comparative study of male organs.

"A-am I?"

"Yes, you are, darling, and so nice and hard, so I think we ought to do something about it, don't you?"

She gave him no time to reply, and started to masturbate him, slowing manipulating his foreskin over the head of his penis.

"I think you're going to come very quickly," she said teasingly, "and we don't want to waste all that lovely sperm, do we."

"Der...d-d-don't we...ah...ah...oh..."

She eased him over to the divan and then said, "Lie down and leave it all to aunty;" then laughing lightly she went on, "she's going to make you feel better."

She put her hands behind her back and undid the clip of her bras and then shrugged them off. Her panties followed them onto the floor.

Recumbent, Paul, insofar as he was capable of taking in anything, now had a clear view of her breasts and the wisp of pubic hair that, beginning at her mons, ran down into her groin. He could see the plump lips of her vulva where they began just below her mons.

Jean sat astride him, her sex organ poised above his pulsating length. "No play this time," she said in a deep throated voice, "just let aunty corrupt you."

Fascinated Paul watched as she slowly lowered herself onto him. As his penis head touched her outer lips and slipped through to her soft wet inner lips, he groaned.

"You like that, darling."

"Yes...oh yes..."

"Then you'll like this even more."

She dropped down on him, letting him enter her vaginal tunnel. He felt the soft, moist warmth of her femaleness and the clinging walls of her vagina. As she took his full length into her she smiled down at him and said in a slightly shaky voice, "A lovely tight fit, isn't it? I wasn't sure I could take all of you."

Paul was so lost in that paradise of her female mystery that he could only give yet another groan.

As Jean started to ride up and down on him, almost pulling him right out of her, then plunging down on him again, further sounds were drawn out of him; "Hah...hah...hah.." in rhythm with her every downward thrust.

She must have sensed that he was about to ejaculate and her movements became slower and more deliberate as the first spurt of his semen thudded into her.

Paul instinctively placed his hands on her hips, dragging her down as she, suddenly losing her previous authoritative tone, started to whimper, "Deeper...deeper darling."

Jean, feeling her own orgasm starting to take over, added her cries to his. Had Paul not been lost in the delectable haze of his own sexual frenzy he might have been puzzled by Jean's outcry, since her words seemed to contradict her frenetic movements

"No...no...I can't...it's agony I don't want aaaheow...oh...oh...oh...ha....oh...yes...oh my God...yes..."

For a few moments they writhed together, and then Paul ejected the last of his sperm into her.

Jean had not finished and she wept, "Stay with me...stay...I still want...oh...aah...ha...ha...oh..."

Since she was sitting over him Paul had little alternative but to stay with her as she went on moving over his slackening shaft for another minute as her orgasm ran down. When the last tremor had passed Jean relaxed over him, her breasts brushing his chest as she pressed moist kisses over his face.

"Did...you...like it...darling...do...you...feel...good?"

"Yes...it was..." Paul groped to find a word to describe the ecstasy he had experienced and finally came out with, "It was bloody wonderful."

His penis was still inside her and their groins were sticky with the mixture of their fluids.

Jean pulled away from him and briefly flopped down beside him. "God that was so good, I had no idea you'd be so...so...you have been with a woman before, haven't you?"

"Just sort of, with a girl at school."

"It's just that...well...it was so...so...fantastic. Thank God you're staying the night; I want a lot more of you my love, lots more; and I did say we should get to know each other better and I'd make a man of you."

Paul had no argument with this; he felt he could tolerate all the man-making Jean could dish out.

Whether Paul fully appreciated it or not, he was fortunate to have a mature woman to initiate him into his sex life, rather than an inexperienced school girl.

One outcome of these younger man-older woman encounters is that the young man often wants to continue the relationship indefinitely; thus the woman, who might just be meeting her own needs while her husband is absent, or simply felt it her responsibility to introduce the young man to the female body, finds herself embroiled in a situation more serious than she anticipated. If that problem was to arise in the case of Paul and Jean, it was for the time being in abeyance.

For the moment Paul thought the last remnants of the austere Aunty Jean had dissipated. Now she was a warm and beautifully vulnerable female. He lay there wondering if it was all a dream and he would soon wake up.

Just as the stern Jean floated away, she was suddenly back again.

"Right, shower."

"I've had shower," he protested.

"Then you're going to have another one, with me. Look at us, I've got your sperm dribbling down my legs and your groin is covered with my lubricant; so a shower."

Paul wasn't sure whether to be defiant or complaint. Compliance won and he meekly followed the goddess who had introduced him to the wonders of the mature female.

Once in the shower, and instructed by Jean on how to wash out her vagina, she soothingly cleaned his penis. Another erection arose. He made a fumbling effort to copulate with her, but she repelled him saying, "Some other time, I've got other plans for you."

He was a little disappointed that Jean did not use any fragrant unguents from the Mystic East, only plain soap.

Showering finished they retired to Jean's bedroom.

"Now we'll find out how much of a man you are," Jean said seductively. "Just lie on your back."

She sat astride him again but this time over his chest. He could feel the warm moistness of her sex organ pressed against him as she gradually worked her way up his body leaving a faint trail of female juice. She was poised over his face and he could see the long furrow of her labia. Her fingers took hold of her outer lips and she opened them to reveal two more small pink lips within, wet and inviting.

"Kiss and lick me there," she ordered as she lowered herself to his mouth. "You can find out what a woman smells and tastes like."

The soft organ engulfed his mouth as Jean ordered, "Push in...push in with your tongue, right inside me."

He thrust with his tongue and it slipped into her vaginal tunnel. Her hands came round the back of his head, holding him to her. Her female fragrance filled his nostrils and her bitter sweet taste was on his tongue.

"Whatever you hear or feel, don't stop," she commanded.

He started to push his tongue in and out and above him he could hear her low cries, "Deeper...harder...ah....ah...ah...faster...oh my God." He felt her move away from him slightly and then there was something, something a little higher up her slit, a soft little nub that he was licking and sucking.

I'm coming...stop...stop...I don't want...it's too pai...oh God, yes...don't stop...don't stop...aah...aaah...naeeeow..."

His face was soaked with her lubricant as she leapt and squirmed over him in ecstatic fury. She let out one long piercing scream and then began to slow down. Not until the last of her post-climax shudders had passed away did she release his head, and drop down beside him.

Still on his back, his penis stood up like a muezzin's minaret, long, hard and topped with its light purple onion shaped head.

There was a pause, then Jean said, "You...now you..."

She moved down his body and took the head of his penis into her mouth. He felt her tongue licking along his length, her mouth sucking him as if she would draw the semen up from his testicles.

He felt as if he was hanging on the edge of an orgasmic precipice; then his testicles released their burden. Sperm pumped up his length and shot from his urethra. Jean tried to swallow the flood of his sticky seed, but it overwhelmed her and started to ooze out of the corners of her mouth in glutinous strands.

With each new ejection Paul cried out, "Aha...aha...aha..." and with the last drip he emitted a long sigh.

Jean sucked on him a little longer as if to ensure that he had finished, and then she lay beside him once more.

"She smiled stickily, and through the residue of his sperm she said, "You'll do...nine out of ten...darling."

She rose lethargically from the bed, then mumbling thickly, "Stay here, I won't be long," she left the room.

Paul lay there recovering from his orgasm and trying to come to terms with what had happened. He concluded that the oral sex was what Jean meant by her "special needs," and if that was all, it suited him. "What happens now?" he wondered.

Jean returned, having apparently rinsed his sperm from her mouth. She lay beside him and pulling close drew his head to her breasts.

She sounded very warm and yielding as she said, "I like my nipples sucked."

She put a hand under one of her breasts and brought its nipple to his mouth, and as he took it into his mouth she drew his hand to her other breast, pressing his fingers round it.

He suckled her and gently pinched her nipple with his fingers and she made little mewling sounds of pleasure.

Her hand reached down for his penis and grasping it she said, "My God, Paul, you are potent."

She was right, already he had another erection; such is the vigour of youth.

He tried to push her onto her back so that he could come over her, but she resisted, instead turning her back on him pushing her buttocks back hard against him and taking his hand she drew it over her and laid it on a breast. Then she reached under her groin, and finding his penis she guided it into her.

When his full length was in her they lay still for a long time, then Paul began a slow rocking motion that gradually brought him to ejaculation. If Jean had an orgasm it must have been a very gentle one because all he could hear were gasps and sighs.

When he finished he started to pull out of her, but Jean said, "No, stay with me...it's time for sleep, so we sleep like this."

With his penis still in her vagina he drifted from the female wonderland she had introduced him to into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

When he woke in the morning she was gone from the bed. He wondered if he had dreamt it all, but if so, why was he in her bed – a bed redolent of their coupling in the smell that lingers after sexual intercourse and the stains of their fluids on the under sheet?

He rose and went in search of her; finding her in the kitchen. He went to her eagerly and attempted to kiss her, only to find that the austere Jean had returned.

"No," she said sharply, "no more sex until..."

"But you said it as so good..."

"Yes, it was but I've seen something."

"What?"

"You left the computer on last night."

"Did I, sorry, but what has that got to do..."

"I saw what was on it; it's atrocious. If you want to behave like a man with me, you can take the responsibilities of a man. No more sex until you've written that assignment, and written it properly."

"But I..."

"No sex until the assignment is finished, I'll help you, but you will write it. You can start after breakfast."

Somehow that morning Paul seemed to be unusually motivated. Jean took books from the shelves and marked sections for him to read. He read at a speed that would have amazed his tutor. He typed on the computer in English that not even he knew he was capable of.

When all was done to Jean's satisfaction she said, "If you want to be my lover, then in future you will produce good work. I don't want a lazy, irresponsible lover. Now come to bed and get your reward."

When Paul had received his reward Jean said, "You'll have to go home now but..."

"I don't want to go home," Paul protested, "I want to stay with you."

Perhaps the first indication of the clinging young lover?

"Don't be foolish Paul, you know you can't. If what we've been doing was found out by your parents there would probably be a hell of a row, and I don't want that. If you want more of me then you must say nothing to anyone about us."

"Then how can we be together?" Paul complained.

"Stop behaving like a spoilt child, Paul. If you're going to be my lover then I'm going to make a man of you. I think I know how to arrange for us to be together."

"How?"

"You'll know if and when I've succeeded. Now come into me again and then you must go."

No matter how he tried Jean would not reveal how she intended to bring them together, so Paul had to return home content with her promise that she would try.

It was three days later over the evening meal when Paul's mother said, "I've had a telephone call from Jean about you, Paul."

Paul felt his stomach lurch. His first thought was that Jean had suffered a fit of guilty conscience and revealed what they had done.

"Oh?"

"Yes, she says that it's time your horizons were broadened."

"Ah," he thought, "Jean has broadened them already."

"Well, you know she's a very cultured woman, Paul, and I think that what she has suggested is very good. She's even said she'll bear the costs."

"What are you talking about Martha?" his father asked, looking up from his plate.

"She says that she'd like to introduce Paul to some of the finer things of life."

"She already has," Paul thought, but said nothing.

"You mean those bloody concerts and things she goes to?" his father growled.

"Yes, and the art galleries and museums and..."

"Don't see much use in all that myself," his father said, "but if she's willing to pay and Paul likes the idea, then okay."

His mother looked at Paul questioningly and said, "I know you've never really been close to Jean; in fact I don't think you like her very much but if..."

"Oh, she's okay," Paul interrupted, trying not to sound too eager, "I've sort of seen another side of her."

His father gave a short cynical guffaw.

His mother ignored this and went on, "It might mean staying with her for weekends and other odd occasions but she says she'll see you get on with your studies. So if you'd like to, then..."

"Yes, fine...fine...mum, tell her I'd like that."

"God bless Jean," he thought

His father looked up again and gave him a quizzical look, but said nothing.

Over the following weeks and months Paul's parents and tutors were amazed at the improvement in his studies. His parents particularly found it strange that although on top of his weekends with Jean she often had him stay with her on weekdays when they went out to a concert or theatre; Paul's work went on improving.

Paul seemed to be energised, changing from an indolent, careless boy of eighteen into a highly motivated young man.

"Jean must be doing something right with him," his father commented to Martha one evening.

"Yes, she seems to have the magic touch; I wish I knew what it was. I mean, he never seemed to like her in the past, but now he can't see enough of her."

"Yes," said his father speculatively, "so let's just hope she keeps on doing it, whatever it is."

Jean certainly did keep on doing it, and then one Saturday night just before they went to bed Jean said ambiguously, "You'll do, Paul, you're the one."

"The one what?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking out loud."

It was from that night Paul found a slight change in Jean's approach to their love making. She didn't stop giving him oral sex or letting him press her breasts over his penis as he moved it between them, but she now insisted that he always ended up ejaculating into her vagina.

Also she seemed to be much softer and yielding as they came together.

This went on for a couple of months before Paul finally found out why the change.

It was not Jean who revealed it, but Paul's mother. One night when he happened to be in for the evening meal, his mother excitedly burst out with her news.

"Jean's pregnant."

Paul felt the blood drain from his face.

"Oh," responded his father "didn't think she had a guy in tow."

"No," said his mother thoughtfully. "You see a lot of her these days Paul, have you seen signs of a man around her place?"

"Er...er...n-n-no mum."

"You'd hardly think she'd have time for a guy considering the time she spends with Paul," his father said with a hint of suspicion in his tone.

"Yes, that's true," his mother replied pensively. "Are you sure you haven't seen signs of man in her place?"

"No mum."

"Mind you," his father went on in a meaningful tone, "wouldn't blame someone for getting on to her. For all that she can be a cold fish she's a bloody good looking woman." He looked at Paul intently.

A long silence ensued while Paul's father continued his stare. Finally a grin spread over his face as he asked, "Sure you don't know anything about it?"

"N-no d-dad."

His father gave him a salacious wink and then seemed to lose interest in the subject.

Paul felt as if some cold hand had gripped his guts. It was possible that Jean had some man in tow, as his parents put it, but all the time he'd..."Oh my God...what am I going to do?"

The delights that Jean had introduced him to seemed to pale into insignificance beside the realisation that he had probably fathered a child with her.

His first thought was to run away, but where could he run to since he had no money and didn't fancy life on the streets? He briefly contemplated suicide, but dismissed the idea since he couldn't make up his mind which of the unpleasant methods open to him he would use.

Next he decided he wouldn't see Jean again, but that idea also faded away. Jean had given him pleasures that few young men his age enjoyed, so how could he just not see her; and besides, not seeing her wouldn't make her unpregnant.

He felt himself embroiled in a waking nightmare. He was due to go out with Jean the next evening and he was supposed to be spending the night with her. He tried to think of ways of not seeing her that evening, just to delay the moment when they would have to talk about her condition. That was no good either because his mother knew he was going to Jean that evening, and he couldn't think of a plausible excuse he could make to cancel the arrangement.

He slept badly, and next day at lectures he reverted to his previous inattention, and it had nothing to do with Judy.

The arrangement was that he went straight to Jean's place after lectures. She would feed him and see that he did his work before they left for whatever it was they were going to – in his confused state he couldn't remember what it was.

After university he dragged himself reluctantly to Jean's place. She had given him a key some time ago so he let himself in. She wasn't due home for another hour so Paul tried to settle to his studies, but to little avail.

He wandered out into the lounge and looked at the picture of nude Jean, meditating wretchedly on the evils of succumbing to things of the flesh since, delightful though they might be at the time, the consequences could be less than desirable.

He heard Jean enter.

"Hello darling."

"Lo."

Jean looked at him quizzically. "What the matter, you look terrible?"

"You know what the matter is."

"Do I?"

"Mum told me."

"Ah...so that's it; she told you I'm pregnant."

"Yes."

"That's nothing to be miserable about. I'm pregnant, not dying of cancer or something."

"Well isn't being pregnant bad enough?"

"Bad? Whatever makes you say that; I thought you'd be pleased fathering a child at your age."