Aunt Darla Gets Spanked Ch. 04

Terry and I were at a very strange point in our lives. Strange? Jesus. Try bizarre, weird and... fucking hot!

I had fallen into a sexual relationship with Terry's Aunt Darla, one that involved spanking, something I had never done before. When I told Terry all about it, she not only forgave me, she helped me to spank and fuck Aunt Darla the very night I had confessed to her(AUNT DARLA GETS SPANKED CHP 3 ). The thing was, the spanking helped Darla to not be such a asshole. She was a former pageant queen with a messed up past, as most of Terry's family was....

".... and right there is why." Terry said with a twist of bitterness in her voice.

She was nudging towards a photograph of a old smiling man with a mustache and glasses standing in the center of a huge table covered with food. The huge table of food was in the middle of a green lawn that sloped gently down to a picturesque river. Opposite the river was a sprawling McMansion style home with a large veranda. A Bandstand on one side of the lawn held a revival swing music combo that was playing a bunch of stuff no one wanted to hear. Everywhere else were elegant tables and chairs for about two hundred people. The picture was of Terry's Grandpa, Fenris Klaxon who was a hell of guy. But he's now dead. That is why the picture, the food, the band and the tables are all here. This was all his funeral and wake, and my wife was convinced the large attendance was only about folks coming...

"... to make sure the sonofabitch was really fucking dead."

My wife didn't hate easily, so to hear her say things like that was always a shock. After three days of funeral and wake preparations, the shock was wearing off. It was clear by all accounts that the man was a vicious ass. A money-grubbing prick, who thought abuse was love and kindness was abuse. It seemed like he damaged every life he touched by trying to make them 'strong and disciplined'. The level of bullshit at the funeral service was enormous as all the relatives struggled to find nice things to say about him in front of his widow, Granma Klaxon. She was a sweet cipher of a woman who didn't seem to mind much or have much of an effect on anything. It was a dazzling display of rationalizations and reframing. But the pressure of all that lying was starting to wear on everyone. You could feel the tension growing minute by minute as relatives driven crazy by one man gathered to bury that man.

We hadn't even left the funeral hall before I had to take Aunt Darla out to my car to spank her ass. Driving to a secluded spot, forcing her over my lap, and pulling her black dress out of the way enough to spank her sweet cheeks bright pink and to make her mouth scream takes a little time, and it's a lot harder to not get noticed ducking out at a funeral than at other occasions. At funerals, people keep checking up on each other, to make sure everyone's alright, so disappearing for 45 minutes to spank my hot GILF aunt's bubble butt is hard to get away with. But she was really freaking out, acting like a total asshole. And we discovered the only way to get her to calm down was a healthy dose of my large hands on her ass, my cock in her pussy and her mouth on my balls... um, not at the same time, of course.

And now, here we were at the riverside wake for Grandpa Klaxon. All the family members were starting to drink and talk a bit louder to each other, which was driving away the more casual guests. After all, they had seen the body and could now genuinely attest the man was dead, so screw this turd parade, right? The swing band was still sucking balls--and for the record I love Benny Goodman, Gene Krupa and Cab Calloway, but these fuckers were just dialing it in. Bad music, drunk family, a dead asshole and nowhere to go until it was over. Terry and I had wisely decided the best answer to all of it was to slowly get blitzed, but we were both still a little uncomfortable with the tension. Then a huge crash came from the food table, and the swing band came to a screeching silence. A silence that was then punctuated with a woman's hollering voice.

"You never stopped it! Not once you pig headed pig fucker!"

You could feel every head turn towards the sound of the shout, except Terry's.

"Only Aunt Mabel says pig fucker. I don't even have to look."

"Oh, you're gonna want to look."

Uncle Pendergast was standing by the table covered in banana pudding. It was mostly on his head and right shoulder, but was successfully dripping down to the rest of his three piece Armani suit. And indeed, Aunt Mabel's girthy frame was right next to him holding an empty bowl stained with yellow goo. Both of them were now frozen in the aftermath of the act, both as shocked at the other about what had happened. The seconds ticked by, and in a weird impulse, no doubt brought on by the mindset of my current sexual circumstances, I picked my spoon and walked over to Uncle Pendergast's pudding covered suit, and scooped a spoonful of the stuff off the Armani and into my mouth.

"mm. Banana pudding was Grandpa Klaxon's favorite!"

Everyone laughed happily, and it was clear they were laughing with me and not mocking Uncle Pendegrast or Aunt Mabel... yet. I got a few towels for Uncle Pendegrast and sent him off to get cleaned up, noticing that Aunt Mabel had fled the scene.

Back at the table, Terry was looking at me with love, lust and respect in her big brown eyes.

"Holy shit, that was the coolest, most Fonzi level thing I have ever seen." She said, giving my leg a squeeze as I sat back down next to her.

I sniggered a little. I was as surprised as she was. "Ohmigawd, I can't believe I did it or that it worked! Oh Jeeze, I'm lucky..." We both laughed out loud at each other--and with each other, and had a few of those solid moments of total connection between man and wife that only time can deliver and trust ensure.

It was Aunt Kathy that got to our table first to thank me for deescalating the situation. She was a real estate agent in Phoenix, about ten years older than Terry and thickly fit. She had that bleach blonde hair and big smile that goes with sales and the Southwest. She would sell a rat's asshole to a blindman and call it a wedding ring, but other than that she was one of our favorite relatives.

"Bob, you are a wonder. A Godsend, a miracle worker!"

I put on an old west accent. "Aww shucks, ma'am. It's all part of the job."

"Oh Terry, you got a good one here!"

"Don't I know it!" She replied as she squeezed my dick through my pants, making sure to pinch the very tip in that certain that makes me...

" Gah! G... uh... a Good one, yup, yup."

She slid into the empty chair next to Terry. "And you have to tell me what you said the Darla to get her stop being such a.... Darla."

Both Terry and I tensed up a bit. We weren't too eager to let others know about our arrangement.

"Bob just has a way with certain folks, and he's always been able to help folks see reason."

Kathy leaned in towards me across the table. "Can you do your magic again? Make it a hat trick?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mabel is freaking the hell out. She's locked herself in the bedroom and nobody can get her out."

"Oh jeeze, Kathy, look, I barely know Mabel. Darla, I knew for a while but..."

"Just try, Bob. Please."

I didn't say anything, and Terry was quiet too, allowing me to be the one to decide.

Kathy leaned in and turned on her Real Estate Agent charm, "Hey, Bob, come on. What else are you going to do? Listen to good music played badly while old people mingle? It'll pass the time, if nothing else."

"Hah! Fifty bucks says you can't do it!" Barked someone who wasn't us. The challenge came from a few feet away in the form of Cousin Jerry, a skinny 40 year old shipping clerk from Provo.

"You're on!" Terry said suddenly.

I was a little confused. "He's on? He's what? Fifty bucks?!"

"Come on Fonzi, let's get Mabel out of the bedroom." Terry drained her beer and got the both of us up and marching toward the McMansion before I knew it.

"What the hell, Terry?"

"I hate that guy."

"What? Why?"

"He's a schmuck and a putz. He snaps bras and loves pranks. And I want his fifty dollars."

"He snapped your bra?"

"When I was 12."

"And that's why I gotta pretend to be a hostage negotiator?"

"Yes, Bob. That is why you gotta pretend to be a hostage negotiator. What do you care? You are gonna get the fucking of your life tonight, no matter what."

"That's a bold statement."

She stopped at the sliding door that lead into the house and turned to face me. "You know I'm good for it. Now, show me how good you are."

Two seconds pulsed before I responded. "That... was a great line!"

"I know! Wasn't it!? Like a movie!"

We went inside and found the bedroom where Mabel was and shooed away all the relatives clustered around the door. As soon as I told Mabel it was me and Terry and no-one else, she opened the door and let us both inside. Apparently my status as a Horse-whisperer for the family was bigger than I realized.

Her face was a mess from all the crying. Terry helped her clean up while Mabel cut loose with a flood of words born from a lifetime of pent up feelings. She gasped and sobbed during the whole monologue. Basically, Grandpa Klaxon's assholery was the problem, and the gasoline of the fire was the rest of the family's lack of support for all those who suffered from his bullshit. As Mabel talked I could see how in this family everyone resented each other for the same reasons, and nobody could figure out a way to work out their horrible feelings. Mabel had ingested all of it, and was stuck on how to deal with it.

"I'm so.. so... trapped, and closed in! My body feels like, like a wound up spring... I wish I could just, feel it and be done with it... Just feel it all so I could let go.... oh God, I know that doesn't make any sense... I wish you could just.. put the zap on me, like whatever it is you do for Darla. I mean, at the funeral she was being such a... Darla... and then you took her off and talked to her, and then she's all nice... you did it at the Cousin's wedding too..."

Terry and I turned to each slowly, at the same time. My eyebrows rose, and she nodded firmly. That is how married couples have conversations that take other people hours.

I was sitting next to Mabel on the bed, and I took her hand in mine.

"Mabel, I can do for you I did for Darla, but it's not so much a conversation... or words."

"R... really? Then... what do you do?"

I hesitated. Terry stood up.

"I think you should show her, Bob."

"... oh? You do?" I had no idea what she meant.

"Yes." Terry then confidently walked over to the wall and stood close to it, sticking her ass out a bit. She was still fully clothed in a tight classic little black dress with a balcony cut neckline. Then Terry reached behind her and slowly lifted up her dress from the rear, revealing her black garters and hose with sheer black panties.

Mabel's eyes got very wide. "Oh! Oh, oh my. Why are you... garters...?" She sputtered.

Terry looked over her shoulder and asked, "Well, Bob?"

I blinked twice, took a deep breath, and drank the kool aid.

"Mabel, this is what I do to help Aunt Darla, and my wife Terry." I walked over to Terry and took the hem of her dress from her hands, which she then put up on the wall, sticking her ass out even further. I rubbed my flattened hand over Terry's backside, softly awakening the skin on her succulent asscheeks. I snuck a peek over at Mabel, and she was agog at the sight, but not aghast. I brought my hand back in a dramatically slow arc, and then swung home, giving Terry and resounding smack on her ass. Mabel gasped, but Terry said nothing, she only wiggled her ass in appreciation. I drew back again the same way, and gave her other cheek a matching smack, which made Terry wiggle again. I then rubbed her ass with my hand a little, and squeezed her tush gently, especially just under her ass, which Terry particularly enjoyed.

Mabel's mouth was hanging open, and she was staring at Terry's ass, her face a bit of a cipher. So I just started in, giving Terry four quick smacks on either cheek, and then four more but a little bit harder. The last couple of those got a 'yipe' out of Terry, but other than that it was only Mabel's heavy breathing that could be heard between the blissful sounds of my hand crashing down on my wife's ass.

Mabel finally found the breath to ask me, "Doesn't that... doesn't that... hurt?"

"If it hurts her, in the way you are asking, she just says 'red', and I'll stop."

Her eyes flew to my face. They were huge and green, and they were looking deep into me, looking for something to trust. Her tongue was darting out constantly, wetting her thick lips, and she was fidgeting in a way that wasn't about a lumpy mattress. "Really? Just, 'red', and you stop?"

I nodded. "Or any word you choose, it's your choice."

She looked back at Terry. "And does it hurt? Does it?"

Terry flipped over, showing the blissed out look on her face, she said nothing, just leaned against the wall and smiled. Mabel was quiet too. Then Terry came off the wall and toward Mabel, holding out her hand. Mabel took it, and let herself be led back to the wall, where Terry turned her around and made her face the smooth white surface. I came up behind her, and together we lifted Mabel's back pleated skirt. Her ass was wide, and thick, a huge difference from Terry's. To our surprise, she was wearing a girdle, but not an old lady kind of girdle, but the sexy kind that Bettie Page wore, with garters and hose of her own, real close to the kind Terry had. I ran my hands all over her large, meaty buttocks. Softly feeling and stroking the biggest ass I had ever spanked to date.

And just my third ass. I know. Shut up. Whatever.

Meanwhile, back at dat ass....!

Terry was delighted. "Well, damn Aunt Mabel, look at you! Those are some sexy garments, girl!"

In a small voice she said, "I wear them when I feel like... like a bad girl."

"And you should never had put that banana pudding on Uncle Pendegrast" I chided.

She whimpered like a schoolgirl. "He's mean." Then her voice changed, it went an octave towards mean girl. "And a schmuck."

Oh, fuck yes. She needs this.

I gave her ass an easy slap, she gasped and I watched the waves of force travel all across her ass and the jiggling they inspired. Terry and Aunt Darla's ass didn't do that. The other cheek was just as jiggly and wavy. Wow! It was fucking hot! I had been worried that a larger, less fit person might not be as appealing when it came to getting down to business. But.... NOPE!

Mabel's wide, generous and chunky ass now became my vast canvas.

I started to give her little flicks with my hand: sharp, but precise, up and down and across her ass. There was so much more territory to choose from! Mabel was whimpering with each little blow, and pressing her face against harder against the wall, but she never moved her ass away from my ministrations. Finally I gave her a good hard thwack on the center of her cheek with my entire hand. The difference was so stimulating...

"Jesus... Godddd...." was all she said as she writhed in the sensation of pain devoid of suffering; of correction without punishment. I only waited three seconds before giving her an equal blow on the the other side of her ass, making her gasp even louder and press herself harder against the wall. Three more blows I gave her, until she shrieked out a cry that told me she would take more, that she wanted more, needed more, just like Aunt Darla, just like Terry...

... and just like me?

Mabel's knees were shaking, so I took her to the foot of the bed. I set her down so she was kneeling over the edge, comfortable and in the perfect position. I gave Terry a big, noisy French kiss and then got down on the floor next to Mabel.

"Put your knees together, Mabel. Good. Now arch your back a little so your ass sticks up more. Good." I felt so calm and yet I was seething with excitement. I threw her dress over her back and again marveled at that ass. Terry seemed to agree with me.

"mm. That is a juicy ass, Bob." She complimented from the easy chair in the corner of the room.

Mabel shifted embarrassingly an peeped out, "It's fat."

I instantly smacked her ass. She yelped.

"Shush." Was all I said.

I laid my hands flat against her ass, just holding them there, feeling the warmth of her skin and the contour of her curves. Then I poked one finger under her pantie's elastic, lifted it up, and then ran my hands inside. Taking a gentle hold, I slowly pulled them down over her ass, like a curtain being drawn from a work of art. I tucked the panties into the crease just under her ass, which accentuated her curves even further.

"oooh, shit..."

I turned toward those words coming from the corner. Terry's legs were spread open and she was toying with her pussy. She saw me looking at her, and she flashed me a huge smile.

I lifted my arm and gave Mabel one firm spank to begin, and then two others. Her ass shimmered and shook like it was a living thing. After that, I sort of lost track of what I was doing as I started playing her ass like it was a musical instrument. Going back and forth with hard and soft slaps, and deep fucking thwacks, I covered her massive globes with glowing pink hand-shaped patches. Her ass would shake and jiggle in different ways depending on what part of her ass I spanked, and different sounds would also come out of her mouth. Sometimes Mabel swore, sometimes she groaned, sometimes she squealed, and sometimes she called out to Jesus, but she never said 'Red.'

Finally I cut loose with a flurry of hard, solid spanks with my flat hand, which was almost hot from the constant contact with Mabel's now glowing skin. It was a volley of solid, loud smacks, under-coated by Terry's heavy breathing in the easy chair. Mabel burst out in to a sob, and another, and then a gurgling and pleading, "Re... Reddd. Red."

I stopped, and was still for about thirty seconds. Mabel was cooing deeply as she mindlessly gyrated her ass, churning from the beating I gave her. Then slowly and gingerly I laid the palm of my hand back on her ass. Mabel hissed, but said nothing else.

"I want some of that ass, Bob. May I? Please?" Terry stood up and came over to the other side of the still bent over form of Mabel. Her voice was one of supplication, a tone I didn't hear often from her, and I let that tone enter me and suffuse my intent. I closed my eyes and took a breath, and when I opened them, I saw Terry as she needed to be seen: and instrument of my will.

"No." Was my answer to her. She actually flinched a little she was so surprised at that.

"Not until I'm done with you." She would have smiled, had I given her time to do so. "Take off your clothes." Somehow she got her dress to fall to the floor in seconds, like it was made to do that, leaving my 5'3" dark-haired wife in black hose and garters and no bra. Her 36C tits were fucking perfect for my tastes, with big suckable nipples and a succulent curve to the underside that drives me crazy.

"Now get on the bed, on your hands and knees, in front of Mabel." I took off my clothes as Terry languidly assumed the position I commanded. Climbing onto the bed, I got on my knees right in front of Terry's face and there at the foot of the bed was Mabel, our audience of one.

I looked down at Mabel's matronly face, at her large eyes darting back and forth between my dick and Terry's dangling breasts. There was nothing but curiosity and eagerness in those eyes. I then reached down and took Terry by her long black, hair, just like Nina Hartley taught us, and brought her face an inch from my pulsating cock.

"Now Terry, service my cock, and I might let you spank Mabel."

Terry lunged on my dick, taking half of it in her mouth at one gulp. Fuck yes! Her mouth enwrapped my cock in a bath of pleasure, as only a wife could! Her lips gripped my shaft like a machine as she moved her whole body back and forth to suck me off. Her body undulated like the ocean, and her petite body's waist, hips and shoulders all were a symphony of sexiness. I was especially fond of Terry's back, it was so well defined, almost muscular, I could just watch her move around sometimes.

Looking down at Mabel, her mouth was hanging open in stunned rapture, her eyes focused like a laser on Terry's lips and tongue as they slathered my cock with pleasure. Smiling, I reached over to the side table and picked up the small box I had hid there when I took off my clothes. Inside was a small folded up stick, like a blindman's cane. When it was unfolded and locked, and I added the tough leather flap to it's end, it became a riding crop. I coughed to get Mabel's attention. She looked over at me and then the crop, and then at me. Easily reaching my petite wife's ass, I rubbed the end of the crop across her buttocks in two small circles and then without warning I gave her three fast whacks. Terry moaned around my dick and forced herself to take me even deeper into her throat. I gave her three more fast whacks, and she moaned again and kicked her feet against the mattress. Mabel watched with fascination as I ran the end of the crop over her entire body, sometimes pressing in hard, sometimes softly grazing her skin, until I brought the leather tip back to her waiting ass. I then took a firmer hold of Terry's ponytail and lashed her ass with the crop at about half my full strength, a level I rarely use with her. As I did, I pulled Terry off my cock and made her look up at me. I lashed her again, and a soundless scream replaced my cock in her mouth. Twice more my arm swung down, and twice again. Her entire body shook and her hands clawed against my chest with each stroke. She then collapsed against my body, and I let her down onto the mattress, limp with rapture.

"So, how are you doing, Mabel?" I asked my wife's Aunt, trying hard to sound like kneeling on the bed with a huge erection with a hot wife in lingerie waiting to do my sexual bidding all in front of my wife's Aunt was totally natural.

Mabel blinked. She looked around a bit, thinking about my question, kind of like how a Pot-head does when you ask them to do math.

"I'm good. Yess. I feel... oh, I feel so.. mmmm..." She was having trouble finding the words. I understood. After a session, you go to a place in your head that's almost psychedelic... well, shit. It is exactly psychedelic. Your consciousness has been altered by the application of pain in a pleasurable manner. The feelings are nigh impossible to put in to word when you are actually feeling them.

"It's okay Mabel. I can hear what you're feeling, it's cool. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine... why did you do that in front of me?" Folks in subspace have no mental editor.

"Impulse mostly. But I wanted you to watch a little of what was possible, what could be."

"Your penis scares me a little." Said Mabel. Terry laughed.

"That's okay. But I would like to fuck Terry now, is that alright?"

Mabel smiled a little. "Are you going to do that right here?"

I nodded.

She nodded too, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Can I... um..."

"Tell me." I ordered her.

"Can I do myself while you...?" She gulped.

"Yes. But you have to tell us when you cum, out loud. Understand?" Mabel nodded and smiled. Then she got up and went over the the easy chair while I got on top of Terry. We adjusted ourselves so Mabel had a good view, and then I slid my throbbing cock into Terry's wet pussy. The feeling almost made me cum right away. My cock was rock hard the entire time I was spanking Mabel, and I really needed to fuck. Terry's hands were caressing me as I held my hard dick deep inside her, just resting in her warm softness. Pulling out a little to start fucking was almost painful, but a good, gentle missionary fuck after such nasty, perverted business was just what we both wanted. Of course Terry's Aunt was in the corner watching us while masturbating, so maybe we were still doing the perverted business.

Terry's tits looked as good on her back as they did standing up, a rare trait in the tittie community. I leaned down to suck on each one of her nipples as I slid my dick relentlessly in and out of her. I heard a moan of pleasure from the corner, which made me suck on Terry's thick nipples even harder. Then I leaned back up and started giving Terry long, slow thrusts, which made her groan and claw my my waist for more. When I started sucking on her tits again, Terry asked Mabel a question in the sexiest fuck-voice I had ever heard.

"Do you like watching us, Mabel?" Mabel nodded wordlessly, her fingers buried in her snatch and flicking away at her clit.

"Do you like it when Bob sucks on my tits, Mabel?"

"Unh-unh..."Mabel replied, picking up the pace with her fingers.

"Do you want Bob to... suck on your tit, Mabel?"

She didn't nod or say anything, she just bit her bottom lip in shyness.

"Do... do you... want to suck on my tit?"

Mabel gasped and started flicking her clit even faster.

"I'll take that as a yes. Is that okay, Bob?"

"Bring her over, babe."

Terry waved to Mabel to come to the edge of the bed. I leaned up, giving lots of room for her while still fucking Terry. Terry stroked Mabel's hair and smiled at her sweetly. "It's okay Aunt Mabel, I want you to. Put your mouth on me. Please."

With a small cry of lust, Mabel lunged at Terry's breasts. She started furiously sucking and licking at her nipples and all over her breast. Terry loved it when I went crazy on her tits like that, and she was loving it now as well! I could see that Mabel's hand was still in her pussy, and she was now finger fucking herself while my wife's nipples were between her thick lips.

The sounds all by themselves were hot as fuck, but the sight of Mabel devouring Terry's titties was a god damned delight! Terry was now moaning openly, and I was fucking her as hard as I could with jostling the bed too much. I wanted to keep Mabel on that tittie! Mabel began to cum, and she popped up to tell us.

"I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. Can I cum with her breast in my mouth? Please! Please!"

"Yes."

"Oh Jesus God thank you Mmmfghgnn..." She plowed back into Terry's breast as she came hard, her ass bucking and hips shaking. Terry and I came with her, and then three of us sort of collapsed where we were, panting and basking in the afterglow. Mabel was the first to get up.

"Phew. Wow. Well, you two were definitely everything Darla said you were."

I bolted upright in the bed. "Hmnm? What? She told you?"

Mabel laughed. "Not really. We shared a room last month at the bar mitzvah for Josh. She talks in her sleep."

Terry started to laugh.

I wasn't so amused.

"And all that shit you told us about Grandpa Klaxon? What was that?"

"Oh, Bob. No, I'm sorry, that was real, it was. And so was this. Hearing Darla babble about what you did, it struck me as something I should... try. But I didn't know how to just ask. I was afraid."

"I get it. Sorry I snapped."

Mabel giggled. "You just beat my ass red as an apple, and now you apologize for raising your voice. So strange."

I grinned. "Welcome to the family, Mabel."