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“Glen, can you press ‘Play’ for me,” Casey said, and I leaned across from the couch, and pushed the button on the CD player. Immediately, the room was filled with the sound of a crappy rap song, as my sister began to rehearse her latest baton twirling routine, for the fiftieth time. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the fiftieth time, but it seemed like it.
There are only a certain number of times you can watch a skinny twelve-year old girl prancing around, throwing a baton in the air and catching it, and still stay interested, but I sat there dutifully, watching Casey spinning, gyrating and jumping in time with the music, in her bright lime green practice leotard, and silver shimmer tights, and the rather wicked thought crossed my mind, If she was a few years older, this might be more interesting.
Welcome to the world of a sex-mad eighteen-year old virgin.
As the song reached it’s ending, Casey jumped in the air, and landed exactly on the last beat, holding the pose for the count of two, and relaxing. “That was a good one,” I said, and meaning it, “you might get a place this time.”
Casey looked at the clock on the wall, and said, “Aunt Stephanie should be here any minute now. We better tidy up and get ready for her.”
There wasn’t really any tidying to do, just a matter of putting Casey’s practice mat and baton away, so as she grabbed her things, she said, “I wonder what she looks like. I haven’t seen her since I was, I don’t know, six or something.”
“Probably hasn’t changed much,” I said, without, much interest.
My Aunt Stephanie was what people in my grandmother’s generation called a “change of life baby.” That meant she was born right towards the end of my grandmother’s childbearing years, long after Grandma thought she would have any more children.
There were four kids in my mother’s family. First, there was Uncle Max, and then, two years later, Uncle John was born. Another eighteen months down the track, my mother, Julia, came along, and everybody thought that was it, but then twelve years later, when Grandma was forty-six, she fell pregnant again, to everyone’s surprise, and my Aunt Stephanie came into the world.
Apart from being sisters, my mother didn’t have much in common with Aunt Stephanie, but that’s only natural when you think about it. By the time Aunt Stephanie was six, and still playing with dolls, my mother was already eighteen, legally an adult, and probably playing a different sort of game, with boys around her own age, so it was almost like they were from different generations. I was born when my mum was twenty-six, so Aunt Stephanie was only thirteen years older than me, but when you’re a kid, a person thirteen years older is practically middle-aged.
Aunt Stephanie lived in the same city us, until I was twelve years old, and she was twenty-five, and that year, she met a guy called Brad, and moved to Queensland with him. Next thing we knew, she rang back to say they were engaged, but they never got married, and just lived together for six years. We never saw her for all that time, but she would send my mother a birthday present each year, and the family got a card from her at Christmas time, but apart from the occasional phone call, we didn’t have much contact with her.
About four months after my eighteenth birthday, my mother got a call from Aunt Stephanie, to say she had broken up with her fiancé, after all those years, and had arranged a job transfer back to our home town, to make a fresh start. After a few more phone calls over the next few days, my parents offered to let Aunt Stephanie stay with us for a few weeks until she got a place of her own. None of this meant a great deal to me, because I hadn’t seen her since I was twelve, but my sister and I set about getting the spare room set up for our aunt, until she found somewhere of her own.
When you think about it, I was probably not much different from most eighteen-year old guys. I had sex on my mind a lot of the time, even though I had never had any, (at least the kind you have with another person), I masturbated almost every day, and I was looking forward to the day I kissed my virginity good-bye. Pretty standard, I guess.
I’d only ever had one girlfriend, whose name was Sally, but after we had been going together for a few months, her dad, who was in the army, got transferred to another unit in a different state, so that was the end of that. I never had sex with Sally, but we kissed and cuddled all the time, which was pretty exciting to a guy my age, and a few times she had let me put my hand in her pants, and finger her pussy. The second time I did it, I smelt my finger, and tasted it when she wasn’t looking, and I found out how exciting the smell, and the taste, of pussy were to a guy. I think if Sally and I had been going out together a little longer, we probably would have had sex, because things were moving that way, but it just wasn’t to be.
Stephanie was due to arrive that afternoon, canlı bahis and both our parents were at work, so it was up to Casey and me to meet her when she arrived. When the doorbell rang, a few minutes later, I knew who to expect, but I got a surprise when opened the door, and saw what she looked like.
In reality, at thirty-one, Aunt Stephanie didn’t look much different from the way she did six years before, but I was remembering her through the eyes of a twelve-year old, and I have to say that through the eyes of a horny eighteen-year old, she looked a whole lot better.
She was about five feet six, with a very curvy figure, full, rounded, and nicely-sized breasts, that were not too big, not too small, but just right, and a pretty face, that was full of life. She had hazel eyes, and her wavy hair was a light brown colour, a little lighter than I remembered, growing half way down her back, and her five years in the Queensland sun had given her a soft, even suntan. I had expected her to look like a younger version of my mother, but she actually looked like a very hot girl, who had just a faint resemblance to her. I was impressed, and suddenly the thought of this extremely attractive woman staying with us for a while became much more appealing to me. She was wearing a pair of snug-fitting jeans and a pale pink top, which really showed off her curves.
She looked at me almost blankly, when I opened the door, and then as she recognised me, she said, “Omigod! Glen! I can’t believe how much you’ve grown!” I’d been through two growth spurts since she last saw me, so I guess I did look pretty different. She gave me a hug, and then stood back again, to look at me. “You must be two feet taller!”
“I guess I’ve grown a bit,” I sad, feeling kind of stupid after I said it, and wishing I had thought of something more cool to say. I asked her to come in, and when she walked ahead of me, I saw that her backside was almost heartbreakingly beautiful, and those form-fitting jeans were hugging every contour of it. Just looking at her butt gave me a roller-coaster feeling in my gut, and I thought to myself that things were kind of looking up in the Copeland household.
I took Aunt Stephanie into the family room, to meet Casey, and after some hugs and kisses on the cheek, we sat around talking for the rest of the afternoon, until our parents came home, and I could hardly keep my eyes off her the whole time.
The next day was a Saturday, and Stephanie spent the day in a short, cream-coloured, linen skirt, and I saw that she had a beautiful set of toned, tanned, and well-shaped legs, that were entirely in keeping with her sexy figure. I found during the time she stayed with us, that she liked to wear short skirts, denim shorts, cheesecloth blouses and dresses, and sleeveless tops that showed off her cleavage, and I don’t think she was flaunting herself, it was just that she had a good body and she dressed to show it off. She even looked hot in her bank officer’s uniform, when she went to work in the mornings.
Aunt Stephanie stayed with us for a little over three weeks, and on the first day, she made it clear to my sister, Casey, and me, that she didn’t want any of this “Aunt Stephanie bullshit”. She wanted to be called Stef, so that’s what we called her.
During those three weeks, I tried not to fantasise about her, because after all she was my aunt, but seeing her walking around the house dressed the way she did, day after day, I gave in, and I would wank myself at night, imagining I was holding her curvy body, and fucking her. I would imagine scenarios where we were alone together, and she was overcome by lust, because she no longer had her fiancé to have sex with, and so she decided to screw me instead, and things like that. Did I mention I’m a pervert?
I even saw my dad copping an eyeful of her a few times, not that I blamed him. My mother had put on a little weight since her mid-thirties, but she still had a curvy body and a pretty face, and I think she and Dad were still pretty horny for each other in their forties, judging by some things I heard them say to each other, and the noises I heard from their room late some nights, but even the Archbishop of Canterbury would have taken a second look at Aunt Stephanie. In fact, he’d probably kick out one of his stained glass windows to see which way she went.
Before long, Stephanie found herself a small, two-bedroom house on the other side of town, and I was a little disappointed to see her move out, but seeing most of her friends from before she went away had either moved on themselves, or were now out of circulation, we still saw a lot of her after she moved into her own house. She had shown when she stayed with us that she was an accomplished cook, and she had us over for dinner a few times, and she spent a fair bit of time at our place.
Although she was over thirty, Stephanie had a young outlook, a funny sense of humour, and she even liked some of the same bahis siteleri music as me, and we got on pretty well together. She looked like a girl in her twenties, and when she was around, I could hardly keep my eyes off her. Now and again, I would wonder what she was doing to satisfy herself, now that she had no man in her life, but I thought it wouldn’t be long before someone new came along. I thought a girl who looked like her could probably pick and choose anyone she wanted.
About a month after Stephanie moved out, my parents were due to take my sister, Casey, to the baton-twirling tournament she had been practising for. The tournament was 300 kilometres from home, and the plan was to leave town on Friday afternoon and stay overnight for two nights, then come back home on Sunday. My dad must have realised I didn’t relish the thought of spending the weekend watching a bunch of little girls marching around, throwing batons in the air, so he and my mother decided to let me stay home. Then, my mother came up with the idea of letting me stay with Aunty Stef, as she insisted on calling her, so she could cook for me, and we would be company for each other. Naturally, I was pretty pleased to be spending the weekend with Stephanie, thinking I would get an eyeful of her every chance I got, and she was always fun to be around anyway, and Stephanie seemed quite happy about it, too.
I’d had a licence for about a year, so my parents left my mother’s car with me, and the idea was for me to drive over to Stephanie’s place, after school on the Friday afternoon, because they were leaving with Casey at midday.
After I got my act together, I didn’t leave home until about five o’clock, so I got to Stephanie’s place late just after five. She met me at the door, dressed in a short denim skirt, a bright pink sleeveless top that showed her cleavage, and a pair of gold coloured sandals. She looked very sexy, and I got that roller-coaster feeling as soon as I saw her. She didn’t look like anybody’s aunt, she looked more like a hot covergirl. Even at thirty-one, she could have been a centrefold model. In fact, she looked so sexy that if you put an X-ray of her gall bladder in a magazine, guys would have been wanking over it. She smiled wide, and said, “Come in, Glen, I thought you must have forgotten.”
“No, just disorganised,” I answered, walking in the door. “Come and put your stuff in the spare bedroom,” she said, “I’ve made the bed up for you.” She walked ahead of me toward the bedroom, and from behind, I watched her bottom as she walked, with that denim skirt ending a couple of inches below her buttocks, and I felt a ripple of excitement in my stomach. She was so-o-o sexy.
After I had put my things in the spare bedroom, we went to the kitchen. Stephanie made us both coffee, and we sat and talked for a while, sitting on opposite sides of the breakfast bar. Her cleavage was like a magnet for my eyes, and I had to make an effort to keep eye contact and not look down. “Got any plans for tonight?” Stephanie asked.
“No,” I answered, “What about you?”
“Well,” Stephanie answered, “I’ve got some DVD’s here. You can have a look through them and if there’s anything you like, we can watch that. If you can’t find anything you want to see, we can go to the video store and rent some.”
“Sounds good,” I said, looking at the outline of her breast through her pink top. I didn’t think she noticed.
Stephanie stood up, and picked up her coffee, and said, “I’ve got most of my stuff put away now, but I can’t remember where I put my DVD’s. I’ll just have a look in the lounge room for them.” We walked towards her lounge room, and she started to look in some of her drawers. I stood there, watching her, and the phone rang in the kitchen. “Can you grab that?” Stephanie asked.
I went to the kitchen and answered Stephanie’s phone, but it was a telemarketer, trying to sell her a new phone plan. I put on a fake Slavic accent and told him he must have a wrong number, then hung up on him. I walked back to the lounge room, chuckling and planning to tell Stephanie what I had done, but when I got to the door, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks.
Stephanie was looking in the bottom cupboard of a sideboard across the other side of the room. She was down on all fours, with her head down, in the bottom cupboard, and her butt in the air, so her short skirt was pulled right up, exposing her purple cotton bikini briefs. Her panties were pulled absolutely skin-tight across her buttocks, showing every ripple of her pussy, and the inner and outer lips were clearly outlined through the gusset. At eighteen, it was one of the sexiest things I had ever seen, and my eyes were riveted to it for a moment. I felt a tingle in my cock and balls, and that rippling wave of excitement passed through my belly, and I had to tear my eyes away. “Umm, Stef?” I called to her, clearing my throat.
“Oh, shit!” I heard hear say inside the cupboard, and bahis şirketleri she jerked her head out, and spun round on her knees, so she was facing me, but still on all fours on the floor. She reached round pointlessly, and tugged at the hem of her skirt to pull it down, even though it was now facing away from me, and there was a look of shame and embarrassment on her face, as she realised what she must have been displaying to me.
However, in the position she was in, on the floor, I could now see straight down her top, and I was getting a perfect view of her gorgeous breasts. I could see she was wearing a black lace bra, and it was hard to look away, but I stepped closer to her, and held out my hand to help her up. I tore my eyes away from her breasts, and I was looking straight at the wall behind her, with my hand out, so she wouldn’t think I was leering at her breasts, and she looked up, then back at the wall, and said, “What are you looking at?”
“Umm,” I started, “ahhh,” I stammered, and giving up, I patted my own chest, and looked back at her.
Stephanie looked down at her exposed breasts, and said, “Gee, I’m a dickhead,” and took my hand, so I could help her up. Once she had stood up, she adjusted her top, then straightened her skirt, and said, with a smile, “Sorry.” She made another adjustment to her top, and said, “I don’t normally flash my boobs and bum at people when I invite them here.”
My cock had gone hard at the sight, and I was thankful I was wearing jeans that were not close-fitting. “That’s okay,” I said, trying to put her at ease, “It wasn’t anything to get excited about.”
Stephanie looked at me with a funny smile, and said, “So, are you saying my boobs and bum are pretty ordinary?” I could tell she was only kidding, but I blurted out, “No, actually, they’re not that bad.” I wished I hadn’t said it as bluntly as that, but Stephanie came back with, “Well, that’s a compliment, from a young guy like you.” She looked really pleased.
Then, she put her hand on my chest, and said, “Don’t worry, I was only mucking around with you. We’re family. We can do that.” She was still smiling, and then she said, “Come on, let’s go and have some dinner.”
I followed her towards the kitchen again, but after only three steps, she turned on her feet to face me, and said, “So, you reckon my boobs and bum are okay?”
I was a little surprised at the question, but I said, “Honest answer?”
“Yeah,” Stephanie nodded, as if she already knew the answer, “Be honest. I can take it.”
“Well, to tell you the truth,” I said, hoping I wasn’t going to say something that would get me into trouble, “they’re not just okay, they’re actually kinda nice.” I braced myself in case she took it the wrong way, but she smiled even wider, and said, “If you keep coming around here saying things like that, I’ll get a swelled head.” She paused, furrowed her brow, and said, “Or is that ‘swollen’? Anyway, keep boosting my ego like that and you don’t know where it’ll lead.” She turned back, and continued leading me out to the kitchen again, and I thought, I know where I’d like it to lead.
Stephanie had cooked home-made Italian food for dinner, and she had a bottle of lambrusco to go with it. She asked me if I drank red wine, and I told her I had some now and again, so we both had a couple of glasses each with our dinner. Over diner, we talked about her job, plans she had for her house and stuff like that, plus we joked around together, as we usually did. During the time she had stayed at our place, I had found that Stephanie and I were kind of on the same wavelength with our sense of humour, and we could bounce jokes and stupid remarks off each other, and have fun together, even though she was much older.
A few times over dinner, the image of Stephanie’s panties, pulled drum-tight over her pussy and buttocks would pop into my head, whether I wanted it there or not, and occasionally, I would look across at her and remember that underneath that pink top, a sexy black bra was holding those beautiful tits in place. The thought would make my cock harden under the table.
At one stage, she said, “Glen, have you got a girlfriend?”
“I used to have one, but she moved away,” I said, and I went on to tell her a bit about Sally. It wasn’t like I had a broken heart or anything, but she said, “I’m surprised a handsome young guy like you hasn’t got a new girl by now.” I was quite pleased with myself to hear her calling me a “handsome young guy,” but I thought she was just being nice, and although I knew nothing could ever happen between an aunt and her nephew, it still felt good.
I could feel the effects of the red wine, and I guess Stephanie could too, and at one stage, she spoke about her time in Brisbane. “Do you miss Brad?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” she answered, then went on with, “I miss having a man in my life, and that kind of thing.” I didn’t expect her to continue, but she said, “And sometimes I miss having a warm body in bed with me, and everything that goes with it.” She went silent for a moment, and smiled like she was thinking of something.
“I’m surprised you said that, to me, anyway,” I replied.
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