Thank You Aunty Doreen

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Thank you Aunty Doreen.

When I was twelve, in the early sixties, my family and I lived next door to a lively, attractive lady named Doreen, her husband and their young son. We called her 'Aunty Doreen' although we were not related. She was in her mid-thirties, had 'Monroesque' dyed blonde hair and the then fashionable hourglass figure, with ample breasts, trim waist, rounded hips and a plump behind, all of which I found extremely arousing. She also wore black, lacy bras, often conspicuously under a white blouse. My mother regularly remarked how 'common' this was, which only seemed to increase my lusting. The mere sight of this delectable underwear on Doreen's washing line always stirred me to an erection.

I had started having spontaneous erections earlier that year. I tried to get rid of them by urinating, but without much success. I also kept waking up in a sticky mess thinking I had wet the bed, and even though I was too shy to even talk to girls, I kept thinking and dreaming about seeing them naked and touching them. I didn't know what was going on. Then one morning I awoke from one of these dreams with a rampant erection and as I woke I ejaculated. Suddenly everything fell into place and oh, what a feeling! I just couldn't wait for it to happen again and sex became a permanent fixation.

Whenever we went on holiday Doreen would look after our cat for us and we would bring her back some souvenir as a 'thank you'. It was generally my task to deliver this to her, only this year I had a raging erection just from thinking about her, before I even reached her house. I knocked, hoping she wouldn't notice the bulge in my short khaki trousers, and she came to the door wiping her hands on a tea towel. She was wearing a white, sleeveless, broderie anglaise blouse, with small pearl buttons down the front, and a black bra underneath. I swallowed and felt myself colour, 'Er, Mummy sent this for you,' I stuttered, handing her the small parcel. 'Oh thank you, come in, I'm just doing the washing up.'

We went in and she gave me a hug, but immediately pulled away as she made contact with my erection. 'I hadn't realised you were that grown up,' she said with a nervous laugh. She looked down at my now very obvious engorgement and I muttered some kind of apology. 'You don't have to apologise, I'm flattered,' she replied, licking her red painted lips and adjusting her hair. 'Can I see it, can Aunty Doreen have a peek?' she asked. My mouth dropped in amazement, embarrassment, and anticipation. I nodded rather uneasily and she undid my trousers and dropped them round my ankles. She knelt down, tugging excitedly at my underwear, and my circumcised penis bobbed up and down as she released it. 'Well goodness me, what a lovely knob you've got,' she sighed 'Your cap looks like a big juicy plum!' She reached out her hand to touch it and I just exploded. The front of her blouse was drenched in my cream. I remember watching in silence for what seemed an eternity, as it dripped from those tiny pearl buttons. I hung my head in shame and my penis drooped, as if in sympathy, but all she said was 'Well you certainly needed that!'

I looked up and she was taking off her blouse, slowly fiddling with the sticky buttons and intermittently licking her fingertips clean. She rolled it up and tossed it on the floor. 'More washing!' she laughed. I could see the tops of her breasts brimming over the lacy trim of her bra. 'Oh dear, I'll have to wash that too,' she tutted, as she noticed that the stickiness had soaked through her blouse. She put her hands behind ner back to undo the bra, but hesitated, 'Have you ever seen a woman's tits?' she queried. Seen them! I'd never even heard a woman say 'tits' before, so I shook my head. 'Then today's your lucky day!' She undid the catch, holding the cups in place with her other arm, flicked the straps off her shoulders and then slowly lowered the cups to reveal her beautiful milky white globes, and then I saw her nipples. I think that moment set my sexual preferences for life. I suppose I'd thought that womens' nipples were just like mens', but on top of breasts. Doreen's nipples were huge, very deep pink, like rubbery thimbles and surrounded by 'bumpy' areolae that must have been nearly three inches across. I was dumbstruck. I've been searching for a sight like that again ever since, but never found it.

'Come here,' she said softly, motioning to me. I stepped out of my shorts and she led me by the hand into her bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed. 'Suck them, like a baby,' she said, pointing to her nipples, which had noticeably hardened. I knelt in front of her and took a nipple between my lips. 'Gently,' she said, 'that's it. Oh yes. Now the other one. Good. Yes. Oh yes, now lick round the edge.' She tossed her head back and moaned quietly, 'Do the other one again. Suck. Harder, harder. Flick it with your tongue. Ooh, that's right, yes, yes.' She looked down at me again and smiled as she noticed my penis was rock hard again. 'Well that didn't take long, did it?' she said. 'Do you wank much?'. I looked at her blankly. 'Oh you poor dear! No wonder you were so full up. Here, let me show you. Let Aunty Doreen show you. When your knob gets stiff you can make it feel better if you rub it like this.'

She sat me down on the bed and took my throbbing penis in her hand. Gently at first, she rubbed the shaft and then moved up to the glans. As she squeezed it firmly I noticed her fingernails were painted red to match her lips. I don't know how big my penis was then, but it felt enormous (I'm six and a half inches long by five and a quarter round now). Then she moved round to my frenulum, just caressing it with her little finger. I closed my eyes and whimpered. 'Is that nice?' she smiled, 'Now I'm going to show you how to shoot for your Aunty.' She then proceeded to alternately rub, stroke, tug and tickle my penis, slowly, then quickly, then slowly again, loosely, firmly, softly, tightly, changing hands, taking me to the edge time and again and then stopping abruptly before patiently building me back up once more.

She encircled my shaft snugly with her thumb and index finger, just below the corona, rhythmically pulling against it, stretching my frenulum until it felt as sharp as the blade of a knife, just occasionally slipping her grip over the ridge. Waves of pleasure pulsed through my body. 'Do you like that?' she enquired, 'Does Aunty do it nicely? You're going to cum for your Aunty aren't you. Come on, shoot for your Aunty. Shoot for Aunty Doreen!' and then, 'But not yet, relax, calm down, there, there, now, ready for some more, yes, yes. Is that nice? I think it is, come on, do it, do it for me! Do it for your Aunty Doreen! Come on, you know you can. Pump, pump, pump, that's it!' Her breasts were bouncing in time with her strokes and my eyes were fixed on those massive nipples as they quivered in front of me. I could sense that wonderful feeling building inside me again. 'Come on, squirt for your Aunty! Do it, do it for Aunty Doreen! You know you want to.' Then as my eyes glazed over, she called out 'On my tits, on my tits! Cum on my tits. Shoot for Aunty Doreen. Come on. Squirt on my nipples! Ready shoot, shoot, shoot! That's it, I knew you could! and again, and again, and again! Isn't that gooood.' and shoot I did, all over her breasts, in stream after stream as she continued to milk my penis dry. All over those delicious nipples, so that my cream dripped from them like it had from her buttons. 'Oh Aunty Doreen!' I cried and she hugged me tightly. I flopped back on the bed in a heap, empty and exhausted.

She stood up and walked across the room unzipping her black and white tweed skirt and letting it drop to the floor on the way. 'Come here' she said, 'Pull my knickers down.' She paused while I got up, in bewilderment. I tugged at her frilly black knickers, struggling to get them down over her very round behind. She turned to pick them up, giving me a wonderful view of her exquisite plump cheeks, framed by black suspenders, the taught straps straining at the tops of her flesh coloured stockings (and for those brought up in the era of tights, there are indeed few views more wonderful than a woman with a plump bottom, wearing stockings and suspenders bending over).

She sat opposite me in a pink wicker chair and leaned right back. 'I bet you've never seen one of these before,' she said, and with that she spread her legs wide and parted first her fabulously lush blonde bush and then her bulging outer lips. 'This is my cunt,' she announced, revealing the glistening raw cleft, with it's delightful tangle of flaps, folds and frills, such that I could not have possibly imagined. A fleshy peak strained at its upper edge, as if begging for attention. 'This little button makes me feel as good as you just did.' She skimmed her clitoris with the tips of her fingers and gave a gasp, 'Ooh yes, it really does.' She circled it with her index finger a couple of times and gently flicked it. Turning to her breasts, she squeezed one nipple, still dripping with my cream, then the other, flicking that too. She tugged on them both together, stretching them as if they were indeed made of rubber. Then opening her labia with one hand, and with a sharp intake of breath, she pushed two fingers of the other into her vagina. She moved her fingers slowly in and out, in and out with a slurping sound. 'Oh yes. Oh yes.' She returned her other hand to her clitoris, this time rubbing much more vigorously. With both hands in unison she masturbated furiously, shouting out loudly; 'Oh yes, oh yes, fuck, fuck, fuck. Aunty wants to cum, Aunty Doreen wants to cum! Oh fuck, yes, yes! I think I'm going to cum. Your Aunty's going to cum! Yes, Aunty's going to cum! Oh yes! I'm cumming, Aunty Doreen's cumming! Oh my God!!' She writhed, twitched, moaned and grunted, then almost sobbed out, 'Aunty's cummmm.' Then all was calm except for her deep rhythmic breathing, which gradually slowed and quietened.

All of a sudden she sat bolt upright and said 'You'd better go, your Mum will be wondering where you are.' She led me to the bathroom and washed me. 'Tell her I gave you lemonade and cakes or something and don't forget to thank her for my present.' I dressed and as I left I called out 'Goodbye, and thank you Aunty Doreen.'.


Doreen and her family moved away soon after. I later learned that her husband had become impotent shortly after the birth of their son and that she had affairs with a number of local men.



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