My name is Shawn, a 21-year-old college student with a curious mind and a heart that tends to wear its emotions on its sleeve. Standing in our kitchen, phone in hand, I hear the loneliness in Aunt Susan’s voice, and it strikes a chord in me. She’s talking about her garden, the roses in full bloom, but with a hint of sadness for the lack of someone to share their beauty with.
Aunt Susan, at 52, lives alone in a house that seems too large for just one person. She’s always been somewhat of a mystery in our family – mentioned in hushed tones and quickly changed subjects. Whenever I asked my mom about her, I was met with evasive answers and a swift change of topic. But today, something in me shifts. I want to understand, to connect.
“So, Aunt Susan, how about I come and spend the weekend with you?” I suggest, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement. There’s a pause on the line, and then a soft laugh, filled with surprise and gratitude.
The conversation ends, and I brace myself for another one, this time with my mom. She enters the kitchen just as I’m hanging up the phone, her eyes immediately narrowing in concern.
“Mom, I’m going to spend the weekend with Aunt Susan,” I say, trying to sound confident.
Her reaction is swift and intense. “Shawn, why would you do that?” she snaps, her brows furrowed in disapproval.
I stand my ground, meeting her gaze. “She sounded lonely. I thought it might be nice to keep her company.”
The air between us becomes charged with tension. Mom’s always been protective, but this is different – there’s a fear in her eyes that I can’t understand. “She’s always been trouble,” she warns, her voice laced with an emotion I can’t quite place. “You don’t know her like I do.”
“But why? What has she done?” I press, needing to understand the family secret that’s been kept from me for so long.
Mom shuts down, her expression closing off. “Just… stay away from her,” she says, leaving the room with an air of finality.
I’m left standing there, more determined than ever. This weekend with Aunt Susan isn’t just about keeping her company anymore. It’s about uncovering the hidden chapters of our family’s story.
The morning sun filters through my curtains, casting a warm glow across my room. Today’s the day I’m heading to Aunt Susan’s. I pack lightly – a change of clothes, my favourite book, and, after a moment’s hesitation, a small photo album filled with old family pictures. Maybe it will spark a conversation, maybe even some answers.
I grab my backpack, feeling a mix of excitement and unease. Mom hasn’t spoken much since our conversation last night. She’s always been the cornerstone of our family, her emotions often setting the tone of our home. Today, though, there’s a palpable tension in the air.
As I head to the door, she’s there, her expression a complex mix of worry, anger, and something else I can’t quite decipher. “Shawn,” she starts, her voice softer than I expected. “Just… be careful, okay?”
I nod, not fully understanding her concern but respecting it. “I will, Mom. I’ll be back on Sunday evening.”
The drive to Aunt Susan’s is a quiet one, with only my thoughts for company. The landscape changes as I leave the city, buildings giving way to open fields and then to cosy suburban neighbourhoods. Aunt Susan’s house is on the outskirts of a small town, nestled between tall oaks and flowering shrubs.
Pulling into her driveway, I see the house for the first time in years. It’s a two-story Victorian, its paint faded but still elegant. The garden is lush and well-tended, with roses climbing up trellises and daisies smiling at the sun.
I get out of the car, taking a deep breath of the fresh, floral-scented air. It’s peaceful here, a stark contrast to the unspoken chaos of my family’s history with this place.
Before I can even reach the front door, it swings open and there stands Aunt Susan. She’s taller than I remember, her hair a soft grey, her eyes bright but rimmed with the traces of solitude. She wore a skirt and a white blouse she looked fairly busty with a lot of her cleavage on show. Could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra due to the imprint of her nipples pressed against her blouse. “Shawn,” she says, her voice warm and welcoming. “I’m so glad you came.”
I smile, feeling a sense of belonging that I hadn’t expected. “It’s good to see you, Aunt Susan.”
We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other, two relatives on the outskirts of a family, about to embark on a weekend of discovery and, hopefully, understanding.
As I sit across from Aunt Susan in her quaint kitchen, the sun casting a soft light through the window, I feel a sense of calm despite the turmoil of emotions inside me. I finally muster the courage to ask the question that has been haunting me. “Aunt Susan, why has our family distanced themselves from you? What happened?”
She looks at me, her eyes reflecting years of unspoken stories and emotions. “Shawn, it’s complicated,” she begins, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “Years ago, I became very close to someone within the family. It was misunderstood, and it caused a lot of judgment and pain. Your mom and others couldn’t accept it, and it just… tore us apart.”
Her words resonate with me, unveiling the fragility and sometimes unfounded judgments that can fracture family bonds. The day passes with more conversations, filled with memories and revelations. As night falls, Aunt Susan shows me to the guest room. “Goodnight, Shawn,” she says, her smile tinged with a quiet melancholy.
In bed, I find myself restless, thoughts whirling in my head. The house is silent, yet there’s an air of unspoken emotion lingering. Then, I hear it – a soft, muffled sobbing. Concerned, I get out of bed, clad only in my boxers, and follow the sound to Aunt Susan’s room.
Knocking gently, I hear a faint, “Come in.” Pushing the door open, I see her sitting on the bed, tears streaming down her face.
“Aunt Susan?” I whisper, stepping closer.
She looks up at me, her eyes filled with a lifetime of loneliness. “I just hate being alone,” she says, her voice breaking.
Without a second thought, I sit beside her on the bed and wrap my arms around her. She leans into the embrace, her sobs gradually subsiding. We sit there, in the quiet of the night, sharing a moment of raw emotional connection.
After a while, she whispers, “Thank you, Shawn. I haven’t had someone to hold me like this in so long.”
Moved by her vulnerability, I offer, “Do you want me to stay here, to keep you company?”
She nods, her eyes grateful. “I would like that very much.”
I lie down beside her, offering comfort and a sense of presence. She’s in a short nightie, and I feel a bit awkward just being in my boxers. As we snuggle close, the warmth between us bridges years of distance and misunderstanding, offering a silent promise of renewed connections and healing.
She faces away from me, curled up on her side, and I gently cuddle up to her. Out of the blue, she asks in a small voice, “Shawn, do you think I have an ugly body?”
Her question startles me, but I understand the loneliness behind it. “Listen, you’re beautiful,” I tell her sincerely. “If I were the same age, I’d be lucky to have a girlfriend like you. You are so beautiful. Not to mention other things I would do to you.”
A smirk dances across my lips, mischief brewing in my gaze as I try to ease the tension in the room. Her eyes meet mine, widening in surprise. “Shawn, are you trying to charm me?” Her playful remark elicits a laugh from me, finally feel at ease in her presence.
“I may be a tad bit forward, but honestly, you are stunning,” she says with a bashful grin. Instantly, a fluttering sensation erupts in my stomach. She notices too, her smile quickly fading. “Oh my goodness, Shawn. Are you…HARD?” The heat rises to my cheeks, my embarrassment palpable. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to control it, well this is embarrassing.”
Her laughter rings out, a clear sign of relief. “It’s fine, I’m quite pleased. Seems someone’s eager.” The air lightens as our laughter mingles, the earlier tension melting away. “You see,” she continues, her chuckles subsiding, “it’s been ages since I’ve indulged. If you’re inclined to make use of it, I won’t object.”
I’m caught off guard by her daring move, yet I can feel the isolation and yearning radiating from her. Without hesitation, I shift, positioning myself above her, our bodies in close contact. I bend down, our lips meeting gently at the outset, but the intensity soon escalates. She matches my fervour, her hands exploring my form with keen interest.
As the passion between us intensifies, our bodies meld into a synchronized rhythm, our hips pressing against each other with fervour. The palpable desire in the air fuels my arousal, heightening every sensation. With a longing in my touch, I reach for the delicate fabric of her nightie, carefully lifting it over her head, revealing the breathtaking contours of her body. A moment of awe washes over me as I take in her beauty, captivated by every curve and line.
Leaning in, my lips trace a tantalizing path along her neck, planting soft kisses that send shivers down her spine. My mouth ventures lower, exploring the expanse of her chest with a gentle fervency. As I reach her breasts, she emits a sensuous moan, a sweet melody that echoes through the room. My tongue dances across her tender peaks, teasing and caressing her nipples with a delicate touch that drives her pleasure to new heights.
I can sense her fervent desire as her nails forcefully dig into my back, encouraging me to continue. With a trail of passionate kisses, I gradually descend her abdomen, my hands delicately exploring the contours of her body. As I arrive at her hips, I pause momentarily, gazing up at her with an inquisitive expression, silently seeking her consent. A plea escapes her lips, dripping with an undeniable yearning.
As I slowly remove her panties, my anticipation grows. Her exposed and vulnerable state fuels my desire. Without hesitation, I enter her, sliding my dick into her pussy, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her.
It’s an incredible sensation when her walls tighten around me and her body trembles. I increase the pace, savouring the heightened sensation. With each thrust, I delve deeper into her. Her moans grow louder, her grip on the sheets tightening as I persist. “You feel amazing, your pussy is so good” I convey, feeling the pleasure intensify with every single movement.
The sound of her voice, filled with ecstasy, only fuels my desire further. “Harder, please, oh this… mmmm is fucking good” she pleads, her words sending a surge of excitement through me. I oblige, thrusting deeper and faster, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of our bodies. The pleasure within me reaches an intense peak, ready to explode into ultimate satisfaction.
I increase the intensity of my movements, the rhythm building with each powerful thrust. Her sounds of pleasure transform into passionate cries as I hit all the perfect spots. “Yes, yes fuck me harder, mmmm please” she exclaims, her body responding, her big tits swaying in sync. I can feel her muscles contracting, a clear sign that she is on the brink of climax.
As we moved together, our bodies felt amazing. She took deep breaths, filling the room with echoes. The bed creaked with each movement, adding to the rhythm. Her wet pussy made my cock throb and pound even harder. Fucking my aunty was an incredible sensation, one that I could get used to. I was grateful that I had come over.
‘Ah, my cock’ I grunted, unsure of how much longer I could last. I desperately wanted to cum inside her.
With one final thrust, she explodes, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. I continue to move inside her, prolonging her pleasure as I feel my release approaching. As she comes down from her high, I can’t hold back any longer. With a loud groan, I release my load inside her, both of us panting and sweating from our intense lovemaking. We both collapse onto the bed, our bodies still intertwined.
“That was amazing,” she says, catching her breath. “Yeah, it was,” I reply, kissing her forehead. “Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes filled with gratitude.
“No, thank you,” I say, smiling at her. We lay there for a few moments, enjoying the afterglow. Eventually, I pulled out of her and lay down beside her, pulling her close to me. “I hope this can be a regular thing,” she says, breaking the silence. “I would love that,” I reply, kissing her forehead again. And with that, we both drift off to sleep, satisfied and happy in each other’s arms.
Maybe this was just a one-time thing, or maybe it could turn into something more. Either way, I was grateful for this unexpected and fulfilling encounter.