Chapter 1

I liked Little Fendon, the small Cambridgeshire town where my mother had settled. But I missed Aunt Ellen dreadfully. I pined for her.And I missed sex. Hormones run riot in all seventeen-year-old boys but in my case, a boy who had grown accustomed to sex several times a week for over a year, they raged.

Consequently most aspects of my life, including my school work, began to suffer. And at the end of that summer term, my first in the school, it was obvious something had to change if I was to gain University entrance.

It was an important year for me, so my mother, acting on the school's advice, sought to engage a private tutor to help me with my work. Consequently, just before the summer holidays, I was introduced to the woman who was to bring about the transformation in my academic fortunes.

I didn't like Mrs. Cranfield. She was a middle-aged divorcee whose husband had left her for a younger better-looking model - and I didn't blame him. When she came to our house to meet me I categorised her at once as the typical schoolmarm: a woman with nothing more in her life than her work and perhaps a night out once a month,.listening to chamber music with a crowd of withered and withering contemporaries.

In appearance she wasn't frightful - just plain. She was about 5'4" tall and gave the appearance of being rather skinny. Her face seemed to me rather angular, and her mouth rather wide, while her eyes were almost concealed by the tinted lenses of her tortoise-shell glasses. She had brown rather bushy hair, cut in an old-fashioned style.And she wore a grey jacket, sporting a large cameo brooch, and a matching calf-length skirt while her black flat-heeled shoes might best be described as sensible.

Old-fashioned then was a word I immediately associated with Mrs. Cranfield, in terms of her dress, her general appearance, and her manner. But she proved to be a first-class tutor. Her day-job was as a teacher in a private school for girls and at first this had caused my mother some concern when she interviewed her.

'I assure you, Mrs. Black', Mrs Cranfield said in a crisp tone, ' I am quite capable of teaching your boy. As my references will show I have had excellent results with both boys and girls in the schools where I have worked in the past. As long as Simon plays his part I feel sure we shall achieve success.'

My mother must have been convinced, and it was agreed that I should attend Mrs. Cranfield's home every Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings - holidays apart - starting in September and continuing up to the GCE A-levels in about a year's time. Needless to say I was not asked my opinion on the arrangement, my mother had given me numerous tongue-lashings about my attitude over the last couple of months and I had had to agree to what she wanted - or else!

The final argument which made me accept however, was the threat by my mother to keep me at home all summer and not allow me to visit Aunt Ellen and Uncle Davie up in Yorkshire. I would have agreed to anything to ensure that I got to go back there.

The week before the schools closed for the summer, with my mother beaming approval, Mrs. Cranfield and I shook hands on the arrangement in our living-room.

I noticed three things at that point: first how her face was transformed when she smiled, even that little smile she gave then, and secondly how finely boned and delicate her hands were, and what a firm grip her long tapering fingers had. Mrs. Cranfield's voice when she spoke to me as we shook hands was quite different from the tone she had adopted when speaking with my mother. It was a shade softer and seemed to be warmer.

'I hope you have a pleasant summer, David, ' she said, gazing at me with a steady look. I noticed then that her eyes were a kind of grey-green. ' I'm leaving several books for you to read and I do want you to start reading them right away but I hope you won't allow that to get in the way of really relaxing.'

She smiled then, a rather tight-lipped smile but one that gave a hint of a much more pleasant personality than the public persona she had presented hitherto.

'You see, ' and here the smile disappeared and the Mrs. Cranfield I had already come to dread, reappeared - 'I'm going to work you really, really hard when we start. Good night, David, Good night Mrs Black'

And she shook hands with my mother and moved towards the. door.

The time at Aunt Ellen's that summer holiday was all that I'd dreamed it would be. Uncle Davie was away on a job the night I arrived - he was to be gone until the week-end - and I spent that night and the following three in Aunt Ellen's bed.

It was on the fourth night as we got ready for bed that Aunt Ellen brought up the matter of my education. Since I had arrived, the pair of us had been deliriously happy, catching up and just enjoying being with each other; making love, falling asleep in each others arms and waking up together before my early morning 'riser' was easing into the wet warm depths of Aunt Ellen's cunt. My days had been spent exploring and rediscovering the haunts of yore and I usually returned just before tea tired but happy.

And so on that fourth night, the night before Uncle Davie was due back I was less than pleased when Aunt Ellen brought up the subject of the decline in my academic efforts and my performance at school.

Having spoken to me at length as we were about to go to bed, and having let me know that my mother had made her fully aware of how I had been, she went on,

'Simon lad, don't you be getting all grumpy. I'm not trying to upset you. Come over here and give us a cuddle.'

She had taken off her dress and was standing in her pink nylon slip, a few feet from me as I sat on the bed in my underpants with my back to her. I got up and turned to face her. I was upset by the conversation. I had felt that all that stuff about school was left behind in Cambridge - and I had been looking forward to another night of love-making and cuddles.

Aunt Ellen smiled across the room, 'Now then, lad. Watch the wind doesn't change, or that face of yours might stay like that. Come on, let's forget school for now and give me a big hug'.

I got up and turned to face her as she sat down on the dressing table stool and began hitching up her slip to take off her nylon stockings. As I walked round the bed she laughed and threw the stockings at me. I ducked, laughing at her miss, and threw myself into her outspread arms, falling to my knees as I did so and I found myself encircled and clasped tight between her plump white thighs. We kissed fiercely and passionately. Her slip had slid up over her knees and was bunched up at the round of her belly and as I embraced her my cock became as hard as iron, straining painfully against the material of my underwear.

'Eh! You are a one, ' she murmured against my ear as she pulled me against her. The warmth of her body permeating through the silk slip and the feel of the silk itself against my naked torso had me aroused to the point where my heart was pounding a hole in my chest.

'Stand on your feet', she ordered. I stood up at once and with my hands fondling her large melon-like breasts through her slip I gazed adoringly into her soft brown eyes.

Aunt Ellen's hands gripped my bum and she slipped off the stool and knelt before me. She bent her head and kissed my belly. Then with what seemed to me a tantalising lack of haste, she slid her hands down my sides, pushing them below the waistband of my pants and eased these down over my hips. Freed from its constraint my cock sprang upright like a released Jack-in-the Box and hit Aunt Ellen on the cheek.

She gave a chuckle and took hold of the thick throbbing shaft with its blue veins bulging with engorged blood, holding it like a lollipop before her face. She raised her eyes and gazed into mine. My hands caressed her face then I twined my fingers in her thick hair and fondled her head.She stuck out her tongue and licked round the head of my erect cock, then took me into her mouth.

I gripped her head tight, the palms of my open hands over her ears, and arched backwards, eyes closed, as the rising surge in my balls approached boiling point. Just as I felt I could hold back no longer she squeezed my balls with one hand and gripped the base of my member with the other, while her mouth slurped fiercely on the head of my cock.

'Ohhhhh! Ohhh! ' I moaned in ecstasy as my cock pumped a flood of sperm into her mouth. I could feel her gulping rapidly as she sought to swallow the gouts of cum shooting into the back of her throat and she shifted her hand from my balls to hold my cock with both hands and keep it in her mouth. I pulled her head into my writhing belly as my cock spouted my juice into her.

At last I was empty and she buried her face in my groin, kissing my balls, pressing her nose into the thick bush of my pubic hair as she clasped me round my thighs, while I leaned over her and kissed her back and fondled her.

After a bit she moved and I stood back a pace to let her get up. a A thin white string of cum oozed and hung from my now-soft, dangling, fat cock, and she reached down and wound it round her finger. Slowly she raised it to her mouth and sucked on it. I stood watching her.Fascinated. And before I knew what was happening she had grasped my head between both hands and kissed me, forcing my mouth open and inserting her wet tongue. I could taste the strange taste of my own cum but whereas had I been forewarned of her action, I would have been repelled by the idea, now I kissed her back, sucking on her tongue and swallowing the fluid that came from her mouth to mine, with pleasure and enjoyment.

It was later as we lay in bed, she with her head on my chest and her leg over mine, her warm thigh resting on my cock, that she again broached the subject of my depression and my school work. But this time she came at it from a different angle.