Chapter 2

The simple truth of the matter was that my Aunt Maggie was not old enough to be my mother. It was an indisputable fact that she was a full decade younger than my mother and it would be a physical impossibility.

That having been said, I am unable to contest the inevitability of her being eleven years my senior although in today's society such matters either in favor of the male or the female seem of little concern to all concerned expect those persons with an agenda of jealousy for some reason or another.

After having become fully acquainted with the mysteries of her nubile and still tight vagina, her delectable pucker with its propensity to blink non-stop when excited in fluttering waves of sheer delight, and exploring the depths of her pretty mouth with my over-eager rambunctious rod all in the same depraved evening, I was determined to make her my constant companion with total disregard for convention or society at large.

I might have been still slightly immature but I was wise enough to decipher that she was equally as fascinated with the potential benefits of a close family union that would solve boredom in a domestic environment. Of course, we would not disclose the nature of our relationship to anyone including my mother and her sister because it would be far too distressing to even imagine her dismay. I could easily imagine the taunts and jokes thrown my way by my so-called "friends" when they discovered the debauchery of our nocturnal experiments and the way they would throw the word "Aunt" in my face like an insult of the worst sort.

Aunt Maggie gave me permission to move my things into her flat that same morning after our initial blast-off and she blushed most becomingly when I kissed her on her lips before leaving for work. At that time, I had no idea of the depths of her sexual hunger and even if I had known, it would not have made any difference because I was truly hers, hook, line, and sinker and happy to be branded her property any time she heated up an iron to mark me for life.

I have to be honest and state that my entire life changed after I hooked up with my Aunt Maggie. In a way, I was happy that I would have a more stable lifestyle because the constant changing of partners was starting to wear me down to the point that half the time when I woke up in the morning I couldn't remember the name of the attractive female sleeping right next to me.

Things with Maggie were always different.

Sometimes she wanted to just try something new out and I was the type of personality that would be willing to go along with her to see what would happen. I remember her convincing me to do her bent over the vibrating washing machine so she could be subjected to the heat and movement of the machine underneath and have me pressuring her from the rear until she squirted her shameful release all over the white tiled floor and wailed so loudly that she even drowned out the sound of the washer.

There was the time that she wanted me to spank her over the ironing board.

I thought it was funny because she hated to iron anything and I was usually the one to do the ironing if it was absolutely necessary. She would hover at my elbow in her undies waiting for me to finish her dress and it was such a distraction that it took me twice as long as it should have taken.

Spanking was a sort of fetish with Maggie.

She liked it in almost every position but she insisted that it be with her panties pulled down to her knees or ankles but not taken off because it restricted her leg movement and she had the sensation of being bound or hobbled for my pleasure. I have to admit I enjoyed it equally as much because the sight of turning her pretty white backside into a field of red excited skin generally made me so hard that I had to finish her off before doing anything else. Maggie seemed to enjoy taking it from the rear more than any other position but she was also partial to just being pressed into the wall with her skirt or dress hiked up and her undies pulled down far enough to slide in without difficulty. Her orgasms in that position were memorable and I usually turned the television up high so the neighbors wouldn't hear her shouts and call the police.

On Friday nights, I was tasked with bathing her in the tub that stood right in the middle of the kitchen like some ghost from a long-gone era. It was usually so erotic and sensual for both of us that I would strip down and couple with her in the water making her squeal and giggle like a schoolgirl doing something naughty. If she giggled too much or made too much noise, I would threaten her with a severe spanking and she would remind me of my promise before we went to sleep.

At those times of the month when we both knew it would be too messy for normal relations, she would fancy up her brown eye for me and give me the whipped cream spray can to fill her crack with the stuff waiting to be licked clean by my diligent tongue that often pushed up inside just to show her the extent of my devotion to her pretty bottom. After that sort of exercise, she was all primed to offer me her backside for my pleasure and her grunts of satisfaction each time I bottomed out inside her rectal channel drove me to frenzied humping that forced her to shout out my name in confused excitement. Most of the time, she was not satisfied with just one episode of anal loving but insisted on a repeat performance shortly after to derive the full effect of her feminine orgasm complete with the "tingles" that came in a series of waves all over her body. At those times, she was unable to think logically or to make sense in verbal communication.

Living with my aunt was a constant source of new and exciting adventures because she wanted to try out every new naughty sexual position and technique just to see if the tingle was better than before. I was happy that I had a high level of energy to keep up with her demands and never tired of finding new ways to enter her find those trigger points that would sent her into convulsive explosions of sheer ecstasy.