Aunty Paula and I Have Sex Pt. 03

"What time is it?" Aunty Paula's words dragged me out from under a deep sleep, dreamless and restorative.

I blinked and tried to focus on her alarm clock, which was on my side of the bed, or I was on its side of the bed, one of the two.

With some effort I managed to work out that it was 9:05 am, I passed this information on to Aunty Paula and spooned into her, her warm buttocks aroused me as I pushed against them, my morning glory slotting neatly into her ass-crack.

"Oh, that's OK." She murmured. "Dave is bringing the kids back at 2 o'clock."

With that, she turned to face me, wrapping a leg over me and pulling me in tight.

We started to kiss, sloppily, lazily and with a rising passion, I became hard and responded by caressing her back, tracing the line of her spine with my fingertips and feeling her nipples spring to attention against my chest as a result.

With both arms around her, I kissed her urgently as my fingers found the top of her crack, I rolled her on her back, pulled her left leg up, scooped around the buttock and found her butthole, I tickled it, did the same to her taint and moved on to her slippery wet cunt.

Her juices were thick this morning and I used them to lube up her butt, puggling in and out with the tip of my middle finger, only just penetrating.

This drove her bucking wild and got me very hard as a result.

By some remarkable effort of contortion, Aunty Paula reached around and found the lube again, pouring it onto my fingers, over her rosebud and massaging it onto my cock, it was messy, but it was an invitation that I was glad to receive.

After an unsuccessful attempt at buggery in the missionary position, this was our first attempt after all, Aunty Paula set herself up for doggy-style, her rosebud, glistening with lube as I took it all in, stroking my cock with more lube as I did so.

I spent some time working on her butthole with my fingers, she moaned and pushed back onto them as I took my time getting her ready to penetrate.

One finger drove her wild, two fingers made her go "Oooh... oooohhh,.. mmmmm."

Three fingers had her whimpering as I opened her out, allowing her time to relax into each increased dilation.

And then, I moved into position, pushed the head of my cock onto her rosebud and started to slowly insert myself into her most hidden of treasures.

Aunty Paula pulled her butt-cheeks apart and pushed back onto my cock, we rocked together, pushing slightly harder each time, until we both hit the right rhythm and synchronization simultaneously and the head of my cock slipped in.

This made her shudder, and I followed suit, barely able to stop myself cumming.

All of a sudden, there was the sound of an old motorbike and sidecar sneezing its way up the lane, beside the row of houses, of which Aunty Paula's was the last one.

We both recognized it instantly, and glanced at the clock, it said 5 past 10, Dave was four hours early!!!

"Fuck!!!" Aunty Paula swore furiously.

"Get in the wardrobe!" She whispered hoarsely.

"My clothes are downstairs!" I whispered back.

"I'll put them in the washing machine!" Aunty Paula hissed, struggling into her dressing gown as she bounded down the stairs to greet Dave with the rage of the harpies.

I dived into the built-in wardrobe, barely able to fit, I felt like a baby Kangaroo, stuffed into his mother's pouch.

As a precaution, I pulled a spare blanket over me and tried very hard not to breathe too loudly.

I could hear the conversation between Aunty Paula and Ex-Uncle Dave, I'm pretty sure half the village heard it, such was the volume of her fury.

"What are you doing here? I was just getting into the shower; you're four hours early!!"

Dave whined in that pathetic way that utter fuckwits with substance-abuse issues often do, when they know they are being unreasonable and have presented you with a fait-accompli that they know is untimely and unreasonable, but they just can't help themselves, such is their need to do whatever it is they need to do.

"Aw babe.." Dave started badly.

"DON'T CALL ME BABE!!!" Yelled Aunty Paula.

"Aww man, there's a party at Nigel's everybody is gonna be there, it's the Solstice, we are having a barbeque for lunch, I don't wanna be late."

His nasal whining, designed to make him seem both vulnerable and the victim, nauseated me.

I knew him well, we even attended the same parties from time to time, but I always thought he was a waste of space.

"You fought me in court to get access to your children, you should take some responsibility for them, you should try to be a bloody adult occasionally!!!"

Aunty Paula was seriously angry at the situation but knew that Dave would never be anything other than what the Australians call a "Doomie", a hopeless case, the eternal teenager in a decaying body. His every action dictated by his need to get off his face, one way or another, as often as possible, for as long as possible.

I heard the kids come scampering into the house, ransacking the kitchen for food, Dave hadn't got his shit together sufficiently to give them breakfast...

The racket outside died down, there were further remonstrations, at a lower and less audible volume, as Aunty Paula, resigned to her fate, and told him to fuck off and keep going. I thought I heard her mention that if he pulled a stunt like this again, she would hurt him badly, but I may have heard that wrong.

Aunty Paula spoke to the kids and told them that as a special treat, she would take them to the Seahorse Café and buy them breakfast.

This was met with cheers and excitement.

"Now wait here while I have a shower and get dressed." She instructed them.

I now knew the lie of the land, this relaxed me, but I stayed in the wardrobe, as I had no idea if the kids had free range of the house and were likely to come into their mother's bedroom.

Uncomfortable was safe, it didn't require any awkward explanations.

I heard the shower shut off and audibly traced Aunty Paula's footsteps through the house and up the stairs.

Once in the bedroom, she opened the wardrobe door, still angry but, by the looks of her nipples, still aroused.

"You can come out, but be quiet, I've locked the bedroom door." She whispered this directly into my ear, for fear of revealing my presence.

I crawled out of the cramped space, the lube was drying on my cock, it felt awkward, so I licked my hand and wiped it on the lube, restoring its liquidity and giving myself a chubby into the bargain.

Aunty Paula rummaged around and found some clothes, as she bent over to put her underwear on, I couldn't help but get aroused by the sight of her delicious bum, that I had just started to fuck a few minutes earlier.

Masturbating as I watched her dress, Aunty Paula caught sight of me in the wardrobe mirror, turned around and lifted her top, flashing her soft, mature boobs at me and smiling.

I spat on my hand and pumped my shaft vigorously; Aunty Paula came over to the bed and gave me a memorable titty-fuck.

It didn't take long for me to cum, I relished the feeling of those pillowy mounds being pressed against my cock, as she jiggled them.

Pumping into those titties, I came hard and fast, savoring the feelings as I shot my spunk all over my mother's sister's tits.

Wiping her tits clean with a wet wipe from her nightstand, Aunty Paula whispered,

"Sneak round after nine tonight, if the door is unlocked, it's safe to come in."

With that she kissed me passionately and headed off to the café.

I lay on the bed, "decompressing" as corporate over-achievers would say.

I relaxed, feeling safer now but also knowing that I had to be gone before they got back, 30-40 minutes, maybe an hour, and furthermore, that I needed to extricate myself from the house and the lane it sat at the end of, without the neighbours, who would be keeping an eye out for further noteworthy evidence of weird shit going down at number 8a, seeing me.

After about 10 mins of just chilling, regaining my composure and planning my escape, I wandered downstairs, grabbed a bowl of Frosted Cornflakes and had a shower.

My clothes were in the washing machine, as expected.

The end of the lane, where the house sat, was mostly old tarmac with weeds growing through it, a greenhouse that Aunty Paula grew tomatoes in, and an old and partially collapsed wooden garage.

I knew, from decades of living in this village, that you could crawl through the garage and sneak through a hedge line that bordered a field, that was currently full of sweetcorn and the occasionally feral chicken.

This was an established route for a game we played as kids, called "Tracking", where we would leave signs and clues for the other team to follow as we tried to make our way to the fort up in the woods near the church, before we were caught.

Fortunately, the kitchen door was hidden from the neighbor's view, and I was in the garage, squeezing through the gap in the rear wall, getting stung to blazes by stinging nettles and generally roughed up by nature, in seconds.

Arriving home in half an hour or so, I was pleased to find that my parents were not there, so I grabbed my car and headed off to the party that Uncle Dave was in deep shit with Aunty Paula over.

The party was actually a hoot; Uncle Dave was incoherently drunk by the time I got there and tried to tell me a rambling story about what a bitch Aunty Paula was and how unfair she had been to him that morning.

I sympathized with him and made my way over to the barbeque to load up on incinerated animal protein, carbon and cheap, nasty cider.

By 9pm, everybody was in touch with their inner Druid, it being a solstice party, and mostly so drunk that they wouldn't know if I was there or not or ever had been.

I took my leave, I had consumed very little alcohol, because I had unfinished business with Aunty Paula, and I had also parked my car some distance away, so that nobody would notice me starting it and try to cadge a lift or ask awkward questions.

Taking the car home would no doubt elicit probing questions from my parents, so I adopted the stellar strategy of leaving it down the pub, in the carpark.

Everybody who was anybody was at the party, so I would be able to ditch it there and if anybody saw me, they would assume I was then getting a lift to the party and had left it there for safekeeping... which was true in a way, only the party was not the one they would be assuming I was at.

Sneaking up the lane, past Aunty Paula's neighbors' houses, like a thief in the night, slowly and silently, I crept up to her kitchen door and tried the handle, it opened!

I entered the kitchen, blinking in the sudden brightness of the lighting, and saw Aunty Paula, sprawled on her couch, wearing nothing but a flimsy dressing gown, watching a murder mystery on TV.

Coughing gently, to announce my presence caused her to look round suddenly and a huge smile broke out on her face.

With a finger on her lips reminding me to be quiet, she beckoned me into her living room.

I sat down beside her and embraced her; we kissed passionately for several minutes.

Eventually we broke the suction and came up for air.

"I think we should go upstairs, I can lock my bedroom door." Aunty Paula was not in the mood for another disturbed fuck-session.

Locking the front and kitchen doors, I grabbed a quick shower, to get the smell of bonfires, barbeques and revelry off me and joined Aunty Paula in the bedroom.

As the locked clicked, Aunty Paula visibly relaxed and came over to the bed, dropped her dressing gown to the floor and cupped her breasts in her hands, she played with her nipples, and I played with my cock as we watched each other.

Aunty Paula stroked herself, all over and wiggled her hips as she did so, taunting me with her luscious body.

I gripped my balls and pulled on them, which made my cock stand up, the skin tight and shiny, the head, a throbbing mass of purple.

I was up for it in a big way and really wanted to be buried in her ass again, I think Aunty Paula read my mind, because she turned her back to me, grabbed her butt cheeks and pulled them apart as she bent forward.

She must have been preparing herself while waiting for me to arrive, her rosebud was already lubed and I think, from the partial gape, that she has been getting in the mood with a dildo.

"We have unfinished business." She crooned as she turned around, knelt on the bed and stuck her butt in the air, again the wiggling, I didn't need it spelt out in crayons!

Kneeling behind her, I started to slide my shaft into her ass, slowly, gently I slipped into her well-prepared butthole, just loving the feeling as it contracted behind the head of my cock and gripped me.

"Oooh!" squeaked Aunty Paula and pushed into me, my cock slid deeper into her, slowly, teasing her and prolonging the pleasure for both of us.

Once fully in, I paused to let her accommodate the girth, I was balls deep and those same balls were contracted into a knot of arousal.

Bending over her, I nibbled on her ear, backed up a little and then slid in harder and faster, Aunty Paula quivered, I nibbled and kissed her shoulder as I started a rhythm, an eccentric one of off-beats and varying speeds, depths and power.

Aunty Paula was grunting softly as I plunged in and out of her most secret entrance.

"Long and slow." She gasped and as I did that, she gripped me hard with her butt muscles, I straightened my posture and watched my bulging tumescence as it slid in and out.

Each time I pulled back, she gripped me harder, each time I pushed in, she slackened her grip and let me go deep inside her.

We kept this up for several minutes.

"Faster, now." She pleaded and I upped the pace; in return she changed her rhythm and gripped me on the in stroke.

I felt as if the skin on my dick was going to peel back, the pleasure and pain combining into one orgasmic sensation until, with one last thrust, I came deep inside her.

With a muffled shout, her pillow stuffed hard against her mouth, to muffle the noise, Aunty Paula came hard too, I felt the walls of her ass shuddering as we thrust like rabbits on a full moon to drain the last drops of my cum into her.

Collapsing on the bed, all the tension and pent-up sexual anticipation drained out of us, it had been a long and challenging day, but the final sexual act was all the better for it.