Chapitre 167: Aunt Ruth's House
CousinObsessed©
JUNE 27TH - It was a blazing 95 degrees out as a pulled up to my Aunt Ruth's house. My windows were down, hair up in a ponytail, music blasting from my brand new speakers. I was to have a new home with my aunt until further notice.
To make a very long, personally aggravating story short -- I needed a place to stay. My mother's house was getting foreclosed on, and her and I weren't getting along much over the last year or two. I was paying her rent, and yet she still asked me to move out all the time, saying I don't contribute enough. When she was forced to file for bankruptcy and sell the house as is, I opted not go to with.
My Aunt Ruth lives about 2 hours away. It's a far drive, and now going to work and back every day will be almost 40 minutes, but I knew I'd be comfortable here, despite the turmoil. My Aunt Ruth was recently divorced from our estranged Uncle Will -- the rumor amongst family members is that he was a notorious cheater, and she tried to get back at him by stealing his money. I never found out the truth, but I always got along with Aunt Ruth because her younger age (Uncle Will was in his 50s, she just turned 40, I'm 22).
Upon leaving my mother's house, Aunt Ruth was the first person I asked because I knew she had a spare room upstairs. She was happy to take me in indefinitely as long as I paid rent and went 50/50 with her on keeping the house in shape. This sounded A-okay by me, and since she has half custody of her son, my younger cousin Greg, I'd see some other family every now and then. It was to be a sudden change if there ever was one, but I was looking forward to it.
I pulled up in the driveway to see her garage open, but no Aunt Ruth in site. I honked, but no response. I tried again still to no avail, so I texted her. Almost immediately, I saw her emerge from the back gate -- she was wearing denim shorts and a bikini top, pink with black polka dots.
At the age of 40, Aunt Ruth was smack dab in the middle between still looking young and approaching middle aged. This was attributable largely to her many, many tattoos, tendency to dress in mostly back "rock music"-like clothing, and her somewhat shorter hair, which she usually curls upward in a pin-up style. Here, I watched her emerging from the backyard in a bathing suit top and I noticed for the first time how large her chest is. They jiggled like a water balloons and she skipped over to my car, bare foot on scolding concrete. Her build, somewhere between being athletic and having a bit of a belly, was the perfect frame for these bouncers.
"Hiiiii! Sorry I missed you. I'm in the back about to lay out by the pool." Aunt Ruth said as she approached my driver's side, arms stretched out for a hug. I looked at my watch as I hugged her -- 10:45 A.M. The wire-frame bikini top fabric was the only barrier between her bare chest and my then sleeveless shirt.
"That's okay." I greeted her in return. "Happy to be finally be here. Should I take my stuff in?"
"Yeah, take your stuff in. I'll help you."
I popped the trunk to expose my absolutely bursting rear storage full to the brim with overstuffed suitcases and bags. My aunt helped me carry them inside and up the stairs.
Her guest room was lovely -- a large bed, a good amount of walking space, and a perfect-sized dresser for my TV. She then showed me the lovely bathroom on the opposite side of the house, but I didn't need a house tour -- I'd been here before many times. This was the house we'd come to every Thanksgiving and Christmas for family gatherings.
"I'm gonna start unpacking. Thank you so much for the help. And thanks again for letting me stay here, Aunt Ruth." I said as I turned back around towards my new bedroom.
"Oh, no, please. Unpack later. Let's catch up. Come to the pool with me. Your bring your bathing suit?" she replied.
"Yeah, I have it somewhere! That sounds good."
Moments later I rummaged quickly through my packed goods for my swim trunks and swiftly got into them, snagged a towel from the restroom closet and headed to the backyard to meet my aunt.
The first thing that caught my eye was the pool -- not the biggest ever, but the water was clear enough to see all the way through the bottom and the sun reflected off the surface like a shiny steel rail.
Immediately to my right was Aunt Ruth, slipping her fingers into the waistband of her unbuckled denim shorts. Just as I looked in her direction, her backside facing me, she bent over and slipped out of them, showing her bikini-clad bottom. It was one of those bikinis with a really small back side and I was looking at at least a quarter cheek on each side. It was all black with a pink rim to match the polka-dot top.
Aunt Ruth stood up as she turned around and smiled at me, folding her shorts up into a little square. I noticed more tattoos on her upper thighs that I hadn't seen before.
I commented on what appeared to be a pointillism owl on her right side near her waist: "Is that owl new? Never seen it before."
"Yeah, I got it a couple months ago. Like it?"
"Looks neat."
"There's uh, chairs over by the shed if you're going to join me." She pointed out.
I took my shirt off to get used to the heat before waltzing over to the shed and grabbing myself a long, white lay-down chair.
When I returned Aunt Ruth had let the straps down on her bikini top. She laid on her back, and the two cups that previously held in her large breasts now gently rested on top of them.
I readied my chair next to her and we both soaked in the sun for a little bit. Now was the chance to catch up. She told all about her estranged relationship with Uncle Will and the big birthday party they just had for my cousin Emmie's 18th (sadly I couldn't make it -- I had to work). I told her about my ex girlfriend and all the problems we had. It was nice. I hadn't bonded with Aunt Ruth this much in a while.
During the end of our conversation she sat up. While she boosted her self up she held her bikini top to her chest. I could have sworn, for a second, that I saw a nipple -- even just for the equivalent of a movie frame.
We spent the rest of the day catching up and cooking together. While we cooked, I remained shirtless in my board shorts and she stayed in her denim shorts and bikini top. I couldn't stop watching them jiggle as she was shaking pepper into our stew. I knew in this moment that I had made the right choice regarding my move.
2 DAYS INTO MY STAY.
Monday morning. I awoke at an early morning hour to get to work, remembering my drive was now almost twice as long. I heard music blaring from downstairs -- blaring loud enough to vibrate my floor. It was 7 A.M. What in the hell?
I came down the stairs in my ragged night tank top and boxer shorts, morning wood just on its way down. My aunt must have heard my steps. She shouted "Good morning!" and I followed her voice into the living room.
I turned the corner to see her sweating up a storm, in the middle of a mad exercise, swinging her arms, jogging in place with knees kicking all the way up to her chest. The windows were open, the fan was on, and the stereo was bumpin' some old school late 90s/early 2000s grunge shit. She was wearing a tight-fitting workout get-up: all black yoga pants with netted see-through material spiraling around the legs all the way down, and a solid, black jog bra. The job bra did a serviceable job at containing the breasts jiggle as she bounced up and down in her place.
"Going to work?" she asked without looking at me.
"Yes." I replied loudly.
"There's fresh coffee in the pot if you want some before you head out. Have a good day!"
"I'll grab some. Thanks."
So I did, and I was off to work quickly, trying hard not to think about my aunt's sweaty body all day.
Reader, let me tell you -- never take a job at a call center. This was approaching the end of my 2nd year as a customer service representative for Sony, and becoming screamed at by angry customers, being put on hold for endless minutes and having "Sorry" and "I understand you're upset" as part of my daily vocabulary have all become part of the routine. To say I'm sick of it would be the understatement of the century.
Today there was a situation that I feared would get me fired. Long story short, I got into a screaming match on the phone with the customer and despite my best efforts, I let an expletive slip in.
I wasn't fired -- but I was reemed out by boss and sent home early for the day.
When I arrived back at the house, I walked in the door with no Aunt Ruth in sight. I heard her from afar when I closed the door. "Andrew, is that you?!"
"Yes, I'm home early!" I yelled from the front entrance taking my shoes off.
"Stay there!"
Suddenly, I see a blurry shape of skin-colored blurred lines run from the kitchen, across the hallway into the bathroom with water trinkling in a trial behind it. Aunt Ruth was in the kitchen....and she was naked. She ran too fast for me to see anything, but I could tell.
"Why are you home early?!" she yelled from the bathroom.
"Bit of a situation at work. Nothing too bad. Sorry, would you like me to leave?!"
"No, no! Just wait a second."
Moments later Aunt Ruth emerged from the bathroom, tightening the belt on her bathrobe as she walked towards me. "What happened at work?" she asked.
"Nothing. Don't worry about it." I said.
"Please. No one comes home 3 hours into their shift for nothing."
"It's nothing. I promise."
"It's not nothing. Come on, I'll make you some bacon and eggs and we'll talk about it. You didn't eat before you left, did you?"
"No, I didn't."
We set off towards the kitchen.
"So..."
I had to ask.
"...do you usually walk around naked when you're home alone?"
Aunt Ruth laughed as she tightened her robe again. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I just took a shower. I like to air dry sometimes while I make breakfast.
I laughed back.
She continued. "I hope it wasn't too traumatizing."
"Ha ha, don't worry, Aunt Ruth I didn't see anything."
She sat across from me at the table while we ate our late breakfast and I talked about my awful day. The entire time I watched water drip from the ends of her wet hair into her slightly displayed cleavage, and stared at her freckled thighs when she stuck them out from under robe and crossed them. If I was under the table I could have had a fur burger for breakfast instead.
The following Tuesday to Thursday, I became aware of my Aunt's morning routine, and with it, threw out my alarm clock. Every morning at 7 AM she does her exercises (now I know what keeps her in such great shape as she approaches middle age), then showers, then makes breakfast, then sits at the computer until the middle of the afternoon. Since last year, she's had the opportunity to work from home as an attorney's personal accountant. Other than occasional trips to the bank and the office, she spends most of her time at home, and usually heads to bed early.
I was getting used to things. Leftover breakfast when I came home. Quiet time into the evening while took work calls and filled out paperwork, followed a bit of friendly family bonding in the evening before we both shipped off to bed. Usually we watched a movie or just sat around with some beers and chatted the night away.
Then came Friday. As my Aunt's blasting L7 CD woke me up from downstairs, I awoke to a from my boss: "Call me when you wake up."
I called him. What he told me was like a verbal punch to the Adam's Apple. I had been suspended for 2 weeks with pay. Apparently, there's been a lot of complaints and the company believes I'm too "aggressive" with the customers. I was furious, angry, enraged -- every synonym you could think of -- but I had to keep my cool. At least I was getting paid, and at least I would be spending quality time with Aunt Ruth.
I didn't even bother to put on a shirt walking downstairs. I stomped down the steps in pajama bottoms and headed straight to the kitchen.
I looked at Aunt Ruth as I passed -- she was wearing a new workout fit I never saw before. A white, raggedy t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and no bra underneath, and on the bottom, polka dot blue booty shorts, some of the tightest, shortest I've ever seen.
It took her a minute to notice me. "What's up? No work today? I thought you were off Sundays and Wednesdays."
There was no point in beating around the bush -- I told her the situation. For a moment, she turned my mother, and gave me a speech about controlling my anger and how she was disappointed.
"You don't have to tell me. I'm just as upset about it." I replied.
The exchange went on for several more minute in the kitchen while I made some coffee. At the end, she gave me a proposition: "I think what you need to get your anger out is a good workout."
"What?" I questioned.
"Come on. Come workout with me. It'll make you feel better." She propositioned again.
"Oh...jeez. Thanks, but I haven't worked out in a long time. Probably been 2 years at least."
"Good! That's more reason to start! Come on, I'll set up a mat for you. Go get changed. It's a perfect way to start the day."
"I don't really have any work out clothes."
"You don't have any basketball shorts or anything like that?"
"No. I'm not really an athlete."
"Alright. Just wear your boxers and a tank top. That'll be fine."
I was confused, yet excited by this suggestion, but obviously, I had no objections.
About 5 minutes later after I finished my coffee I might my aunt downstairs in a fresh pair of boxers and grey sleeveless. She had set up a mat for me just a few feet away from hers.
I took position, and she slowly guided me through a myriad of yoga-like workouts.
"This doesn't seem like the regular workout routine you've been doing. Switching things up?" I asked with my head squeezed below my knee.
"I have a rotation of regular exercises mixed with yoga stretches. It gives me a good mix of working muscles and relaxing them, and I like the variety." Aunt Ruth replied.
As we worked our way through the spin-the-wheel of difficult yoga positions, I lost count of how many times I got a big ol' eyeful of sideboob through the cut off sleeves of her shirt. When we did one called the "Seated Forward Fold" I swore one of them was gonna pop out the side.
Not gonna lie, though -- it was fun, and I needed it. She was right in suggesting it'd be a good way to workout my anger from my being suspended, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't putting on a little weight that I would like to get rid of.
After our workout of roughly an hour and change, we were both drenched scalp to toenails in sweat, and we both stunk. My boxers had become heavy, and Aunt Ruth's white shirt had become wet like a damp rag, but not enough to see through.
I told her she can shower first. She was quick. "Your turn!" she told me as she exited the hallway in her bathrobe.
I didn't have a robe, and when I finished my shower, I didn't know where she was. My best bet was wrap a towel around myself and head upstairs. After all, I couldn't put my sweaty boxers back on.
It was a pain going up the steps -- my body hadn't been pushed like that in ages, and all that time sitting in the chair in front of the computer at the call center has essentially turned my muscles into Jell-O. I moaned and groaned working my feet upwards.
"Feeling sore?" Aunt Ruth asked I passed her open doorway.
I turned suddenly. She was wearing a bikini -- a simple design this time, plain green, no frills, no design. It was a modest one -- didn't show off too much cleavage, and it covered the butt way more than the last one.
"You have no idea." I said, adjusting my towel.
"That means you did good. What hurts? Your legs?
"The undersides of my knees are killin' me. And my stomach too."
"That's the abdominal stretches. Those are great for you. Let it hurt -- it'll go away."
I grunted and moved closer to my room.
"I'm going outside to tan for a little bit if you want to join. Otherwise, I'll be in later. Lots of phone calls to make today."
I opted not to join, as tempting as it was. My body was too sore. I simply tore my towel off, put my fan on max and splayed out on my bed until the soreness died down.
I made dinner quietly tonight while Aunt Ruth was in the kitchen making work calls. She looked so pretty sitting there with her hair up, being official and making business calls in her pajamas
Our movie night for Friday night was Office Space. She picked it on purpose to make light of my suspension, but to me it was like a documentary. I was angry at first, but the more we sat, and the more we drank, the more I laughed.
The next morning.
I awoke to a strange sound -- silence. No music. No bumping speakers and vibrating walls. In fact, as I got up and looked around the house, there was no Aunt Ruth to be found anywhere. She must be sleeping in today.
I crept upstairs and peeped her door open. I was right. I found out too that she sleeps in her natural state -- her back was turned to the door, but the blanket sliding down her waist, exposing the top of her crack, and the sides of her breasts sticking out ever so slightly from the edges of her torso. With the single streak of light striking the room, it was like an old baroque painting of a nude woman.
I took the quiet morning to myself to make so breakfast and catch up on Westworld. Around 10:30 Aunt Ruth finally came down the stairs.
"I smell pancakes!" she yelled from down the hall.
"Good morning! Help yourself!" I replied with my feet up on the couch.
I looked back to greet her. She was wearing super short shorts -- almost like cut-off men's boxers -- and a baggy old Metallica shirt.
"No workout this morning?" I asked. "I was expecting to wake up to my walls shaking again."
"I have a 5-day routine. I like to sleep in on the weekends." She replied.
I got up and walked to the kitchen to dispose of my empty plate.
"I'm almost disappointed. As much pain as I was in yesterday, I really enjoyed getting some exercise. Even if it was just yoga." I said as I dumped my remnants in the trash.
"You want to?" she asked as she prepped her own plate. "We can. Not my normal routine but we can get some in. Let me eat my breakfast and we'll get stared!
"You sure? I don't wanna bother you if you had other plans."
"No, no. I got nothing goin' today at all. Not even any work. Just gimmie a few."
"Wow, thanks. I appreciate it. Can we do regular workouts instead of yoga?"
She looked out the window. "Seems a little hot today for a regular workout but if you want to..."
About 10 minutes later we met in the living room. This time she let me pick the music. I went the Kendrick's To Pimp A Butterfly -- front to end. I came down in my boxer and tank top like last time and she came down wearing an all blue fit -- a well-fitted job bra and tight-fighting yoga pants to go with. She opened one of the windows to let the heat out.
We started with some high-knee jogging in place, followed by push ups, then some crunches, then some taking turns on the exercise ball.
We had been going for about 20 minutes now, and it was beginning to get warm. Her opening the window hadn't proved very effective, as we were both already drenched. My back was covered in sweat, so I flipped my shirt over my head and threw it to the side.
"Oh my god, is it blazing in here, isn't it?" Aunt Ruth observed.
"Yeah, sorry. I had to." I replied.
"No, you're fine. It's crazy in here."
We continued, starting some side planks, but then came the jumping jack. She had developed her own custom jumping jacks that involved turning 180 degrees every 4th jump. It was a surprising way to stay in sync and keep it from getting monotonous. I watched her breasts bounce upon down like paddle balls on paddles inside her binding, fitted top.
A few minutes passed before she stopped, and made a comment under exhausted breaths: "Oh God, it's so hot."
And suddenly, she stuck her thumbs inside the waistband of her pants and slid them off, revealing her sweaty legs. She threw her pants to the side as I noticed her underwear, which she was apparently extremely comfortable revealing to me -- white and black vertical stripes, more akin to the shape of booty shorts than traditional underwear, but very high up the waist, and revealing a lot of butt cheek.
"Okay." she simply said as she got back into the motion.
I didn't say anything about her sudden state of undress. If she was okay with it, than I had no reason to comment.
We restarted our routine from the beginning -- back to the high knees.
After another few minutes my aunt stopped again. She seemed to be getting out of breath. She spoke: "Sorry, I'll be right back. I gotta put on something else. Keep going!"
Quickly, she speedwalked out of the room. I kept going, eager to see what she'd be wearing upon return.
She returned moment later in a simple bra and panties -- white, with frilly edges of the bottoms.
"Will it bother if you if I just work out in this?" she said walking back in the room. "It'll make it so much better for me in these heat."
"No, no." I said. "Wear whatever you want. I'm down to my skivvies myself."
"Thanks so much."
"What, uh, what do you usually workout in when it's hot like this?"
"I usually don't workout in anything, whether it's hot or not."
I laughed as we got back into the routine. "What? You workout naked?"
"Yeah! Or at least bottomless."
"For real?"
"Yeah, it's actually better for you. No clothing, no muscle restrain of any sort. Especially better during Yoga and regular stretching."
"That makes sense. Never thought about that."
"Mhmm. You should get a try one day if you ever get a chance."
And with that comment, I quietly resumed the routine. In her new outfit I watched do side planks, crunches, and then jumping jacks. Oh god, the jumping jacks. Her tits nearly flopping out of her bra was inevitable, and multiple times she had to catch them and readjust. I couldn't see the tag, but if I had to guess, she was at least a large C cup, possibly a small D.
As enjoyable as this was, it was also creating a problem -- I had become rock hard underneath my boxers. These weren't regular flowing boxers, they were boxer briefs, so the outline of my erection was clearer than the sky. When it came for our 4th round of jumping jacks, my flop was as easily noticeable as hers. I was notice my dick was gonna poke out of the hole as it bobbed up and down in the middle of the living room.
I didn't think she noticed it, and we came around to our final turn on the exercise ball. As she rolled it over to me, I caught her glance downward at my crotch, and there absolutely no hiding it when I bent backwards over the ball to do high crunches, and it was pointing directly up at the ceiling, just millimeters from the head poking out of the middle.
"That's it. Keep it going it strong." She egged me on, standing over me, watching. I knew she could see it -- she had to -- she was less than a foot away, but the respectable woman she is, she said nothing.
We finished our session with another round of high knee jogging, and by the time we finished, I was still harder than cement. I looked over at my aunt, who walked towards her towel, covered head to toe in sweat, so much so that the ceiling fan light above made her shiny like she was covered in oil. This didn't help my situation, especially when she bent over to properly drape the towel over her head and I noticed that the backside of her white panties had become extremely translucent and sweat was running down deep into her crack.
She turned around to face me and my boner. "Alright, that was really good one. It's like a sauna here. Who's gonna shower first?"
"You can go first. You look sweatier than me." I laughed back.
"Alrighty." She said very matter-of-fact, and quickly sped off to the bathroom.
I needed a moment to compose myself when she disappeared. What have I gotten myself into? Just a week ago I was moving in with my Aunt temporarily due to my home situation, now she's come millimeters away from seeing my throbbing dick, and she's continuously bending over in front of me in next to nothing. I was nervous, but these work outs have become a blessing.
Our Saturday post-workout was pleasant. We traded some family gossip over some delicious vegan pizza, I introduced her to Westworld, and we Facetimed Emmie, who announced she was coming to stay for a couple days starting Wednesday. Even though she just turned 18 she still looked how I remembered growing up -- forever stuck with an innocent younger face, but now slightly more developed on the rest of the body despite being extremely short and thin. He hair was longer than I remember, though, appearing to flow all the way down her back, which her and Aunt Ruth argued about extensively over this Facetime session.
Later, she was cooking dinner in the kitchen, and I came downstairs for a drink from the fridge. We were both dressed casual, sweats and t-shirts.
I spoke as I opened the fridge: "Ugh. I don't know about you, Aunt Ruth, but I am sorer than a bitch after this morning. Muscles cramping everywhere."
"Oh my god, me too!" She agreed. "That was the hardest I've gone in a while."
"Yeah, for sure."
"You know, when Emmie and I used to workout together we'd always give each other massages afterwards if we were sore. I'm not the greatest at them but she's a master."
"Really? That sounds nice. We should give it a try."
She stopped for a moment to stir the rice before replying. "You know what? I think I still have some of the therapeutic oil left from forever ago. When we're done eating I'll go see."
We ate dinner. I tried to eat in a hurry to get to the massage faster but she took her sweet time. She told me some more stories about her and Uncle Will's ugly relationship towards the end. Apparently Ellie claims that she thinks he was flirting with one of her older friends and how he would always stare at her when she came over. I can see why they decided to plug the plug on marriage.
We finished our meal of rice and beans and she headed upstairs to look for the massage oil.
A couple minutes later she yelled from upstairs. "Hey, Andrew I found it!"
"What?!" I enquired back loudly from the bottom of the stairs.
"The therapeutic massage oil! I found it!"
"Great!"
She came down to show it to me. There wasn't much left but there was enough for us both to use tonight.
"I've never given massage before I guess there's a first time for everything." I continued.
"I can show you. Like I said, I'm not a master myself but I know I few tips and tricks."
She turned around and headed back up, and I followed closely behind. We were headed for her bedroom.
"In here?" I asked as she opened the door.
"I have the bigger bed. I don't feel like going out back to get the tanning chairs. Those are better to use, but this will do for now."
She rummaged through a pile of junk near her closet and pulled out a huge rubbery foam mat and laid it over top her bedspread.
"So what should I do?" I asked.
"Get down to your boxers and lay on your stomach." She told me very directly.
My aunt patiently watched me with her hands folded at her waist while I very carefully took of my clothes. First, the shirt, then the belt and the socks, then the sweatpants. Now I was almost naked but she was clothed.
"Lay down flat." She said.
I listened to her directions, laying down next to her with my backside facing the ceiling.
"Now this oil..." she started. "...is a kind of a muscle relaxant. It's gonna be cold at first, but as I rub it in, it gets warmer, and your muscles with feel better."
She poured some into her hands and rubbed them together, then she placed her hands on the backs of my shins. These were extremely sore from all the jogging and jumping jacks. She was right, it was cold, almost uncomfortably so, upon first touch, as it got deeper in the skin, it became gradually warmer.
Slowly she moved all the way from the heels of my feet to the area above the back of the knee. I moaned with pleasure and she chuckled at the occurrence of it.
Ever so gingerly she went a little higher and a little higher. The tips of her fingertips continuously grazed the area right below my buttocks and my right around my groin as she stuck them in and out of my boxer legs. Then she moved onto my back, kneading it like a cat.
"Feels good?" she asked.
"Feels amazing, Aunt Ruth." I complimented in muffled response.
"Roll over now, we'll do your front."
I rolled over on my back and the warmness of the oil that already seeped into my backside came over the rest of my body like a big fuzzy hug. Aunt Ruth squirted some more lotion into her hands and started on my legs like last time.
She worked up, up, up, and her fingertips came closer and closer to my groins, but never touched.
She moved on to my torso and gave me some instructions for when it was her turn. "When it comes to the chest and the belly, think of it like kneading bread. Like very carefully molding pizza dough. Just press into gently with your fingers and let the oil work it's magic."
She rubbed it all in my chest and my shoulders. It felt spectacular. I let out a couple of pleasured breaths.
Suddenly, I felt her tugging at the waistband of my boxers. I looked down to see her tucking in the waistband and pulling them down ever so slightly to expose more of my waist. "Let's nudge these down a bit..." she whispered to herself.
Carefully with three fingertips she rubbed lotion into a circular motion in the area right above the dick root. This felt amazing too, and it started giving me a chub.
She made another round over all the bases, then she stopped.
"Alright, my turn." She said.
I was so relax that I struggled to sit up. "Are you sure? I'll probably be really bad."
"You won't know until you try, my good nephew."
Nonchalantly and with no warning she started removing her clothing while I stood up off the bed. I was too oily to put my clothes back on, so I remained in my boxers.
Aunt Ruth removed her shirt, revealing a neon pink wire bra underneath, and under her sweatpants was simple black underwear. Then...she reached for her bra, moving her hands behind her back.
She very carefully took her bra off while simultaneously moving her hands to cover her breasts. She smiled at me as she maneuvered herself facedown onto the bed, arms down at her side. I didn't see anything, but I saw enough.
"No rush. Start whenever you're ready." She instructed me.
The cartilage in my boxers shook when I looked at my aunt laying there in front of me in nothing but her underwear, the undersides of her breasts jutting out from under her chest.
I nervously squirted some oil in hands in the same way she did and starting rubbing into her legs.
"Put some pressure into it." She commented.
I tried to on the backs of her knees, slowly creeping upward. Treading as lightly as I could while still applying pressure, I squeezed and kneaded the area right below her ass. My knuckles grazed her underwear-covered cheeks and she told me my new method was better.
Now onto her back. I remembered what she said about kneading dough, and slowly massaged the path from her waistline to her neck.
"Get the sides." She commanded in a very relaxed tone of voice.
So I did. Exactly 3 times, I counted, my fingertips just ever so lightly smudged up against the sides of her breasts. She let out a pleasured sigh.
I went over her back once again for good measure, then I stopped and asked "Am I doing your front too?"
"Yes please! That abdomen workout was killer! Hand me my bra."
She stuck her arm out and made a grabbing motion with her hand. I reached down and handed her her bra from the floor.
Again, she carefully maneuvered herself onto her back, casually placing the bra on her chest. It sat unstrapped, low enough down her chest to cover her nipples, but not much else.
I squeezed some more lotion into my hands and started on the shoulders and she closed her eyes. I moved in circular motions near her clavicles and into her chest cavity.
Her glorious globes sat inches below, tempting me, but I didn't know how far I was allowed to go.
In lieu of risk, I touched them. My skin touched her breasts. I gently rubbed in circles at the top, just where they met the chest, moving just a little bit downward to where I could feel just the slightest hint of jiggle. She said nothing, but continued to lay silent, breathing slowly. I can't imagine with the amazing lotion feels like on one's tits.
I moved down the stomach, using the same pizza dough method. I noticed now how totally toned her abdomen is. Perfectly flat, yet curved like a carefully blown plexiglass sculpture.
"Mind if I tug your bottoms down a bit too?" I quietly asked.
"Mmm, yeah." She replied instantly.
I precisely reached for the rim of her underwear, carefully pulling it down a little bit from the sides. It sat lower on her waist now, and like me to her, I could see the top of her womb.
With a little bit more lotion in my hands, I covered the circumference of her waist, taking every little opportunity I could to stick even just a bit of a finger tip underneath the raised rim of her underwear.
I continued for several minutes. I decided any longer duration massage then she to gave me would be suspicious, so I stopped after another go round her clavicles.
"Oil's almost gone, Aunt Ruth. I think we're done." I commented, slowing my rubbing to a halt.
"Mmmm, I'm so relaxed." she said laying there with her eyes closed, arms perfectly still at her sides.
"What now?" I asked.
"You did amazing, nephew. Thank you." Her speech slowed and slurred. "I think I'm just gonna lay here. Maybe dose off for a bit."
I stood back and looked at her, my erection forming fuller now. She looked like she was in a total state of zen. I eyed her up and down -- here was my sexy Aunt Ruth, who I've always known to be attractive, but never this open, laying in nothing but black underwear on a bed met, posed like a goddess, with her bra loosely sitting on the bottoms of her breasts.
"Should I just leave then?" I asked.
But no reponse.
I decided do a test. I felt the erection in my boxers reach full mast and I moved closer to my aunt. She was in such a state of sleepy warm bliss that she didn't hear my footsteps.
I stood above her and without thinking about it too hard, I pulled my dick out. I took my hard cock out and let in flop in the air just feet away from my Aunt's face, just because I could.
She didn't even know I was standing there. I waved it around some more and jerked it a couple times, just to test the waters -- nothing. She was out, mentally on another, warmer planet.
I stared at her body for another couple seconds, then put myself back in my shorts and exited, leaving her to her nap.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone