Summer of Cyn

It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I suppose it could have worked out if Cyn and I had been able to keep it in our pants. But then there wouldn't have been a story to share if we'd had that ounce of temperance, would there?

Aunt Cynthia was my dad's baby sister, a wayward soul always getting into trouble and she needed a place to crash after her latest boyfriend threw her out. My mom knew trouble when she saw it and declared that under no circumstances would Cyn be allowed to cross the threshold into our boring middle-class home.

That left the room over the garage, a crummy but cool spot my sisters had dubbed the Treehouse. I hung my hat there during high school and had hoped to occupy it that summer when I got home from college to work construction.

It was far enough away from the house to blast my Drake and Snoop music then in favor in the early 20-teens and I was able to sneak in the occasional date. It was also close enough to raid the fridge and enjoy free laundry service.

It was perfect. And then it got double-booked.

Dad came to me with the proposition: I'd sleep there at night while Auntie Cyn, who worked as a hostess at a "gentlemen's club" in the evening, would sack out there in the morning after I rolled out of bed for work. Never the twain would meet, except for collisions in the bathroom when she floated in after her shift and I was scrambling to punch the clock at a construction site.

In exchange for my agreeing to share my digs, Dad said he'd look the other way on paying board and I figured, why the hell not? I loved Cyn, the fun aunt who partied harder than most of the kids I ran with and she sure didn't act her age, which at the time was 35.

She showed me the way. I puffed my first doob in her car and I broke my cherry with one of the "sweet girls" from her club, her thoughtful birthday present to me at the tender age of 18.

Just another one of "our secrets." And it was a growing list.

Mom fumed in silence and bit her tongue until the day she saw Cyn disporting herself around our pool, wearing a painted-on bikini with her delicious ass cheeks hanging out.

"Look at that!" she spat at Dad that Sunday as we gathered for breakfast. "There are impressionable girls in this house! And your college boy son! What are they supposed to think?"

Dad rolled his eyes, took a gander out the window and saw the same skinny girl his father dismissed as the runt of the litter. He sighed and looked at my mom while pointing to me.

"I don't think we need to worry about Cliffy here," he pronounced. "You've seen his girlfriend's knockers -- we raised no dummy and he's not straying from that kind of equipment. He may be getting Cs for all that money we're paying in college, but he's getting Ds where it counts."

He then turned and addressed my twin sisters, who were a very impressionable 12 back then.

"Girls," he said, "I want you to take a long look at your Aunt Cynthia. We all love her to the moon and back, but this is what happens when you subsist on a diet of cocktail wieners, gargle vodka and smoke a carton of Winston's every day. You'll look like a teenage boy in your 30s and have to live over your brother's garage."

"Ewwwww!" the girls wailed.

"Martin!" Mom cried. A pancake may have been thrown. I can't remember now but I may have peed myself too. My dad was a stitch.

Anyway, this arrangement was supposed to be temporary, maybe a month or two until she could get her stuff back from the bully who changed the locks and find a crappy room over a store or a firetrap basement apartment of her own. But I was in no hurry to see her go and gabbing with her every evening as she dressed in her finest sluttery before going to work was the highlight of my day.

Now, like most guys, I prefer meat on bones, a well-rounded woman, T&A all the way. As Dad noted, my then-girlfriend had a rack I loved to attack and a back forty I was keen to plow. But there was something about Auntie Cyn that pulled my chain.

She was a very, very alluring woman with come-fuck-me eyes, a generous wide mouth with full lips and a very very dirty mind. We'd watch TV together some nights and she supplied enhanced dialogue that could turn even a heart-rending death scene at the hospital into fodder for a porno. I could see where Dad got his wicked sense of humor -- it ran in the family.

"Dr. House, my wife is insatiable, she wants to fuck me morning, noon and night! I can't get any sleep ... I'm afraid I might have a nervous breakdown!" she would say with a gravelly voice as we watched the muted tube.

"Interesting," she'd drawl a-la Dr. Gregory House. "And this is a problem... because?"

"Well for starters, I get terrible headaches when I masturbate."

"Okay," she would continue as the limping doctor. "I need to run some tests. Let's start with her temperature. Open wide Mrs. Smith and put this in your mouth."

"Dr. House! Why are you putting your dick in my wife's mouth?"

"Because sucking on a thermometer would give her mercury poisoning -- duh!"

Cyn would have me in hysterics and then somebody would notice the clock and she'd be hustling that fine ass out the door and down the stairs to her car. And I'd have a helluva time getting to sleep because she got me wound right up.

It sure as hell didn't help that I could smell her on the sheets. Not just her perfume, a scent Mom would loudly compare to "the inside of a hooker's purse." There would also be that glitter stuff she'd put on her cheeks and eyelids.

Most of her sparkles and cologne would wash off in the pool with her morning swim, but the essence of her remained in the bed. We swore up and down to Mom that we were switching the sheets every day, but both of us were too lazy to bother.

So we were already sleeping together, in a way. Then one day I happened upon a pair of her thongs in my laundry and I couldn't help but draw a deep breath and savor the pungent pussy odors like a drug. So I swiped them. And then another pair.

Despite myself I was falling for Auntie Cyn and there seemed to be no Auntie Dote for that.

So I began to make myself scarce. I put in more hours at the site, hung out for beers with the guys afterward and even picked up a girl one night even though I had the aforementioned well-rounded woman waiting for me upstate when college resumed in the fall.

But even as I fucked this drunk chick in my truck one night, it was Cyn's face I saw. It was no use trying to put her out of my mind and this summer was crawling by.

I had a day off and was hanging out at the pool. The girls were at camp, Mom was out of town at her sister's place so she could bore another person about her gawd-awful sister-in-law while Dad was safely away from her at work.

I was floating on a raft, catching early morning rays and then I could sense I was in the shade. I opened my eyes and there was Cyn.

"Hey, roomie!!" she called. "Where the hell have you been? I haven't seen you for days!"

I shaded my eyes with an arm and a saw my spritely aunt standing at the edge of the pool in that bikini. And I wondered for the umpteenth time just what it was about that body that turned my crank.

It had to be those nipples working overtime, just out of sight, poking through the fabric and blinding me like laser pointers. The tiniest of waists. That heaving ribcage. You already know about her ass but that was pointed elsewhere at the moment, blinding Tommy Faraday who was peeking down from his bedroom window. A perv in training.

She crouched down and reached over to pull my raft a little closer. She had a weird look in her eye like she was about to impart some awfully personal information. Which she did.

"So listen, buddy," she said quietly. "I'm running a little low on undies and I was looking in your dresser and look what I found."

She then produced the fragrant thong I'd been snuffling just hours before. It was dangling from her index finger like it was a rearview mirror.

The blood drained from my face even as it was pooling elsewhere. I needed a diversion -- pronto.

"What are you doing going through my drawers?" I gasped with contrived indignation.

"I could ask you the same," Cyn smiled as swung the stained intimates uncomfortably close to my face, returning them to the scene of the crime.

I swallowed hard and Auntie Cyn seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. "Wellllll?" she asked. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

My mind was searching desperately for a simple, non-incriminatory explanation and this is what I came up with: "I've been wearing them."

Cyn rocked back on her heels and raised her brows. And just when I thought I'd gotten away with it with my cock-and-bullshit story, she roared with laughter.

Because on the face of it, it was ridiculous explanation -- I was over a foot taller and 100 lbs heavier than the runt of Dad's family. If I was a cross-dresser, I'd have had to prowl the XXXL bin at Victoria's Secret.

She then rose to her feet and tossed my ill-gotten stains on my still-reclined chest. The smile had run away from her face and she nodded to the staircase beside the garage.

"You. Upstairs. Now," she said tersely. "We need to have a word."

And with that Aunt Cyn turned on her heels and padded up to our shared room. I could only get out of the pool and follow obediently, my souvenir tightly wound around my hand.

When I got upstairs she was facing me with arms crossed and an unfamiliar glare. She was waiting for the truth and I realized with resignation that's all I had left.

"I'm sorry, Auntie Cyn," I mumbled. "It won't happen again. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

She shook her head. "We both know that's not true," she said before reaching out a hand. "Gimme that."

I looked down and realized I had knotted her thong in my hand and it took a moment to extricate it. Cyn almost tore it out of my grasp.

And then she pushed it under her nose and drew a deep breath, closing her eyes. She grunted in satisfaction, leaving me now completely confused. Was she doing that to take the piss out of me?

"You know, it's just natural," she said finally as she pulled the fabric away, addressing me like my high school gym teacher conducting a Sex Ed class. "What you're doing is sucking in my pheromones that trigger sexual arousal. You're attracted to me and devouring my scent is an act of intimacy. It's just that it isn't consensual ... or appropriate for that matter."

I was feeling faint and just kept repeating myself, begging for forgiveness. And it seemed to be getting her... hot?

"Don't be sorry, Cliffy," she said finally. "I just want you to be sure. Because you are crossing a line here and I need to know you're going to be a big boy about this."

I was excited -- and confused -- all at the same time. Naturally, all this talk was getting me hard and we both watched my tenting trunks. Cyn then stepped forward and I was stunned when she suddenly pulled my bathing suit down and wrapped her thong around my ripening rod. Her fingers swirled around my cockhead and encompassed my tightening balls.

"Mmmm, what a lovely cock," she whispered teasingly. "You must have got that from your mom's side of the family. Guess she's good for something after all."

I gasped as her hands began to work my plumbing. I was indeed crossing the line -- and she was pulling me over by my cock.

"Do you like that, Cliff?" she said hoarsely as she pulled her thong tighter, cutting off the blood flow and turning my helmet a deep shiny purple.

"Is this what you do with my underwear? Do you jerk off in it? Was I ever going to see these again?"

I was hyperventilating now but tried to focus on the woman who had seized control of my joystick. The lady had her questions. "Yes! Sometimes! Yes! Never! Ahhh!" I gasped.

Her small but firm fist was now pumping my shaft with authority and I was trying to figure out if this was some kind of scared-straight punishment, like forcing a kid to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes to get them sick of smoking.

But if that was the strategy, getting an enthusiastic handjob from my Aunt Cyn was doing absolutely nothing to put me off my carnal, taboo desires for this fireplug. My eyes locked onto hers but she was unreadable. The softness, the sassiness, the fun of her was gone -- I'd left all that moments earlier by the pool.

I moaned and felt weak in the knees and tried to steer proceedings to the still-unmade bed, but Cyn blocked me from staggering to a more comfortable horizontal position. I was to stand there and take my punishment.

As I rocked I could see precum beginning to foam, and so could Cyn who scooped it with a finger and rubbed it on her lips where she licked it up. As she tasted it, she smiled. And then stopped jerking me. She ripped the thong from my cock and then slapped my blood-starved testicles hard.

"Ow!" I yelped, but as I tried to back away, she regained her firm grip on my landing gear like a bridesmaid holding a fist full of flowers.

"Listen to me Cliffy," she hissed. "I own this cock. Okay? And I don't want you to cum. Not now. Remember, I could rat you out to your folks and confirm your tight-assed mom's worst suspicions of me. While that would make me homeless and I'd have to sleep in my car or a girlfriend's couch, I promise I will fink on you. Do you follow me?"

I had no fucking idea what was going on but she looked like she could rupture my balls without breaking a sweat. So I nodded in the affirmative.

"Good boy," she said soothingly, again stroking my johnson which was radiating heat. She then released my cock and held up a finger. "Don't move!" she ordered before heading to the closet.

Cyn returned with a black velvet bag and then she pulled out a tangle of silicone pieces. She sank before me and while I briefly entertained the fantasy she was going to give me a blowjob, I watched in confusion as she quickly snapped a clear ring behind my balls and around the base of my now softening cock. In a moment she expertly assembled a device that enclosed my willy and I heard the small click of a lock sealing the works together.

I looked down dumbstruck as she backed up and admired her handiwork. She then attached the tiny key to the chain around her neck, dangling next to her crucifix, without a decent cleavage for it to disappear into.

"W-what the hell?" I breathed. I'd read about cock cages, but never imagined in a million years that I'd be outfitted for one, let alone by a blood relative. Now I'd seen everything.

Cyn tapped the plastic shell with her long red fingernails and my imprisoned cock could feel the delightful vibrations.

"There," she said as she tickled my balls, about the only exposed genital flesh I had left on offer. I felt the shift in our relationship in that moment, from rollicking near-siblings into mistress and slave. And I liked it.

Still, seeing my favorite play toy in harness like that... I had concerns.

"C-can I still get hard-ons? Will that hurt?" I stammered.

Cyn's body was nearly pressed against mine so we could test that at once.

"Relax Cliffy, you're not my first," she said, her hand against my chest. "You'll get hard alright, it's just... that you can't do anything with it. Until I say so. I think I've sized you right. Maybe you'll feel a little ... discomfort. You'll get used to it. Hell, you'll love it."

I was already lovin' it. And then she slipped off her bikini briefs. She took the first deep draught of her pussy juices and then pressed it to my nose.

"You got me wet, nephew," Cyn said softly. "I think it's time you went in and mopped up the spill in Aisle 3."

She then reached up and gripped my shoulders and pushed me to my knees. She then directed my mouth to her waiting pussy lips, my eyes drawn to her engorged clit that looked like a mini-cock. She left a tiny landing strip of fur on her mound and it looked sexy as fuck.

"Eat me, you auntie-fucker," she ordered sternly. "And don't stop until I cum."

I complied and plunged my tongue between her lips and breathed in a heavy mix of pussy, sweat and perfume. In one of our earlier dirty chats on the couch she told me used something called "Coochy Spray" for her lover's pleasure and I refused to believe it. I was now a believer.

"Ooooh Cliffy, fuck me with your tongue!" she gasped, thrusting her privates into my puss. I gripped her ass to hold steady and worked her cunt with my mouth, north and south.

Her raspy breathing (thanks Winstons!) as well as her sobs and cries got me incredibly excited and I thought I might burst the contraption pinching my cock. But the designers at Chast2000 had done their homework -- cruel and unusual punishment, for sure, yet no harm and no foul.

She came, repeatedly, until she was exhausted and all feeling had drained from my lips and tongue. We collapsed on the bed and she laughed as I rubbed the cage against her leg like a dog humping its master.

"You want to cum, don't you baby?" she said teasingly, again rubbing my balls.

"Yes, Auntie Cyn," I said dutifully.

She fingered the key by her neck for a moment then looked at me.

"No," she said firmly. "I'm training you, boy, to serve me. But you will learn that your desire will continue to build and when I do release you..."

She dangled the key under my nose. "... it will be awesome. Think you can do that for me?"

I thought I was going to explode. "Yes, Auntie Cyn."

She pulled her face closer. "There are rules," she said. "Hands off your cock, you'll only make it worse. No messing with the lock -- I will know and then it will be over. Stay away from chickies -- you're mine. And there's one very, very important thing."

A small index finger was raised. "You will never fuck me. We will spill a lot of juice but that's where I draw my line. You good with that?"

That was quite a list of demands. There was a handy Dremel tool in the garage below that could put an end to all of this but I was in. Well, except for my cock in her pussy.

"I mean... the thought of that juicy cock pushed inside really jazzes me," she added.

Confused, I could only agree. "Me too, Auntie Cyn!"

Again, those nails, my balls. "It's as much torture for me as it will be for you, but I mean it!" she growled. "No fucking!"

"Yes, Auntie Cyn."

She kissed my forehead. "Good boy. Now your Auntie Cyn needs her beauty sleep, so go fuck off, okay?"

I rolled out of bed and in moments she was snoring. I watched for a moment, climbed gingerly into my pants, and stepped into the world as Cyn's secret slave.

It was tough sledding the first couple days, but I did my best to appear normal even as I struggled to get used to the appliance hugging my nethers. Luckily it was summertime and loose-fitting clothing better concealed the works. I was even able to use the pool which was good because I needed to be in a cold shower all the time, especially after a long day spreading asphalt on an unshaded driveway.

It was a few days after becoming Auntie Cyn's boy toy that my father of all people noticed something had changed. I was bobbing in the pool one evening when he sat on the diving board for an unwelcome father and son chat.

"What's up with you and Cyn?" he said all of a sudden.

"Uh, what are you talking about?" I blurted, trying to stay cool but suddenly it felt like I was in a hot tub.

"I dunno, you two are normally as thick as thieves, pulling each other's legs, getting grosser and grosser until it drives your mother crazy," he chuckled. "Are you getting on each other's nerves with this arrangement?"

You don't know the half of it, I thought to myself. Suddenly my dad was becoming Columbo and I had to think of a way to divert attention from my changing relationship with his sister.

"Oh, Cyn and I are cool, I'm just having a little, uh, girl trouble at the moment," I sort of lied.

"Ah ha, I knew it!" Dad said. "You don't seem to be yourself these days. Yeah, I know what you mean. When I was your age, girls drove me crazy, leading me around by the cock to get what they want."

I spluttered and coughed -- he was getting dangerously prescient with his observations.

"Hey, leave some water in the pool for the rest of us, champ!" he laughed as I spat out some chlorine.

Then Dad leaned over conspiratorially. "You know, they say the best way to get over a girl is to get under another one," he said quietly, messing up the old proverb and giving me an unwelcome vision of my mom riding him like Annie Oakley.

"Jeezuz Dad!" I groused.

"I got an idea -- maybe Cyn can hook you up with one of the servers in her club?" he suggested, about three years after she pretty much did that to kick off my book of Genesis.

"I just need a little... time. And space," I mumbled.

He frowned and got off the board. "Okay, Dr. Hawking," he said, then nodded toward my sisters' huge inflatable killer whale floating at the other end of the pool. "But if we catch you mounting Shamu, we're going to have another talk."

I considered myself warned.

In the days to come, I kept missing Cyn, our schedules not overlapping for a while and the record-long edging and denial kept building my excitement. I feared that when Cyn finally unleashed me I'd fill the whole goddamned pool with spunk and I'd get an extended lecture from Dad about the cost of replacing the filter.

I don't know what was going through my head later that week when I was back in the bar after work with the crew, shooting pool and throwing darts. Drew, the girl I fucked the previous week was there and she was giving me the eye. I hoped that my "couldn't if I tried" vibe was coming across as we met at the counter waiting for our drinks.

"That was fun," she slurred as she leaned in, missing my lips and kissing my ear instead.

"What was fun?"

"Fucking you!" she brayed, just loud enough that a guy walking his dog a block away heard it.

I shushed her. Spittle was sprayed because I was drunk too. "Yeah, you were ... incredible," I said at a more appropriate volume.

Drew nodded down the hallway beside the bar. "So... you wanna do it again? Maybe somewhere a little more comfortable than your truck?"

I frowned. My personal logistical difficulties aside -- in the toilet?

She had a more civilized venue in mind. "The manager is a bud of mine," she explained as she pulled a brass key out of her pocket along with condom of questionable provenance. "He lets me use his office whenever I want."

Especially when he was in it and she was bringing in a girlfriend to play, I'd learned earlier. Her tits were almost hanging out and our conversation was echoing out of her cleavage. I grimaced as my cock again stirred from deep within its silicon tomb. Like a ghost from a wishing well.

Nothing was going to happen -- Cyn had seen to that. But then Drew took my hand and in seconds she was clumsily sealing the door of the office behind us and she stood there, her back pressed against it. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and the tits I thought I'd never see again were bouncing in front of me.

"Jeezuz, Mary and Joseph," I gasped. I was seeing three of everything including a trinity of tits.

"Fuck me Cliff!" she groaned and she kissed me hard, her tongue down my throat and her hand down my pants. Leading to a conversation nearly as uncomfortable as my cock was at the moment.

"Wha-what's this?" she giggled as she undid my belt and got a closer look at the obstacle to her reunion with my pecker.

But ridicule soon gave way to wonder. "Oh wow, I've heard about these! This is fire!"

I could only agree with my sloshed would-be seductress. My cock was blazing and the fire escape had a heavy filing cabinet lodged in front of it.

"Yeah, well, I told you about my girlfriend," I explained. "She's the jealous type, y'know."

Drew was anything but repelled. "If I was your girlfriend, I'd never let you out of the house," she snarled. "I'd tie you to my bed and milk this bad boy three times a day."

Then she got to her knees and started playing with my silicon schlong, tugging the lock and tickling my balls. Then out came the tongue followed by her deep-throating the plastic-coated dildo.

She kissed me again. "I want it inside me," she slurred.

That was against Cyn's rules. I pondered that for a millisecond.

"OK," I said. "It could get a little rough."

"I like it rough, Cliffy -- you know that," she smiled, reminding me of the unnatural act she performed the last time with my gear shifter. Then she dropped her pants and while she struggled to shove the damned thing inside her, I swiped her dirty gauchies and sniffed them. Total different flavor and aroma.

"You like that, huh?" she panted as she somehow mounted me and plunged the alien probe into her cooz.

"I am becoming a connoisseur," I explained and then she began to ride me.

Unsatisfactory for me, a struggle for her. She finally withdrew and my tongue came out of the bullpen to get the save.

As she snored on the smelly couch, I got dressed and realized this cage business just wasn't going to work for me. Drunk Drew was game -- hell, I could have shown up dressed as a porcupine and she would have thanked me for the acupuncture after fucking me.

But there would be other girls, other temptations like tonight. You're only young once.

The cage had to go.

The next time I crossed paths with Cyn, and before I could propose a renegotiation of our arrangement, she had a big favor to ask. And she promised that if I granted it, she'd release my cock for good behavior and let me put it down her throat.

But first I had to go visit the old bully boyfriend and collect her shit. His name was Waldo and he was big guy, apparently, but I was bigger, a lot younger and could probably run faster, too. I agreed and told myself when she opened the lock in gratitude -- and after I got mine -- we'd have that talk.

I drove over to his house and found Waldo home and alone. I can do "menacing" so I put on the face and after rapping on the door, it opened and I knew at once I could take him before fulfilling my mission of rescuing Cyn's clothes, pots and pans and her tchotchkes. She pretty much ran out of the joint with the clothes on her back and that velvet bag of tricks. Priorities, right?

I stated my mission and he nodded wearily.

"C'mon in, man," he said and he even offered me a beer. As bullies went, he seemed pretty listless and tired. I wondered if that fate awaited me.

"You the new boyfriend?"

"Yeah, sort of," I said. "More of a fuck-buddy." Sounding all grown up.

He pointed to a garment bag and a couple of boxes. He got that look in his eye when I pointed at the big screen TV. I was pretty sure he'd put up his dukes for that and equally certain he'd put a fist through the screen if I tried to take it so I decided not to bother. He gave me a beer after all.

"So," he said idly, "has she got you caged, too?"

I gawped at him and involuntarily looked at my crotch, reassuring myself that my attire gave nothing away. He chuckled and I didn't have to answer.

"It's her thing," he said with a shrug. "It's sexy as all get out for awhile but it gets old fast, trust me."

I believed him and didn't tell him I was getting sprung from servitude later that day. But unlike this guy, I couldn't kick Cyn to the curb. She'd be at family Christmases and other occasions for decades to come. It was and would eternally remain weird.

We got to chatting about Cyn and it got real interesting.

"Now, there is something she enjoys a lot more than this chastity nonsense," he revealed.

I had to know. Anything had to be better than dressing up like a Star Wars stormtrooper from the waist down.

"What would that be?" I asked.

He leaned forward. "Bondage!" he said with a smile.

Great, I thought. From testicle chafing to rope burns on my wrists. I resolved to date Mormon girls when I got back to school.

"I had no idea Cyn was such a control freak," I muttered.

"No, no you got it wrong, kid," he assured me. "SHE likes to be trussed like a turkey! In fact, she loves it."

As if Thanksgiving dinner wasn't going to be awkward enough.

"Go on," I said, trying to remain calm. By now I was practically drowning in my own backed-up cum.

He explained to me that he learned about this kink from a mutual girlfriend who literally taught her the ropes years before. She'd fight and struggle and scream blue murder but then proclaim later in her lover's bed that "it's the best sex I ever had."

Music to my ears. I thanked Waldo for the intel and even left him with a pair of her smelly shoes. His thing. I would have thrown in her armpits if they were available.

By the time I got back to the Treehouse with Cyn's stuff, my roomie was sawing logs, dead to the world. She had worked a double shift and the place could have burned to the ground without so much as getting a snuffle out of her.

With my folks away for a weekend getaway and my sisters discovering other girls in the redwood forest, I seized my opportunity for a night to remember. I had a hunch and poked into her closet and was soon rewarded with the discovery of wrist and ankle restraints and some sexy nipple clamps. That confirmed to me that Waldo gave me the straight goods on the woman's kinkiest kink.

I returned to the bed and saw Cyn's necklace dangling from the lampshade. I quietly grabbed the key and released my cock from her restraints. It felt so good in my hands, my balls fully charged. I was ready to poke it out a window to pick off a passing meal delivery cyclist at 50 yards. I could have put his eye out, so horny and desperate was I for relief.

But I stayed focussed on the mission at hand. I quickly secured Cyn's wrists to the headboard and her ankles to the foot of the bed, spreadeagled on the sheets. I stood back, nude, and pondered my former mistress' helplessness.

Then I remembered Waldo's description of her loud resistance and ran down to the garage. No sense rousing our neighbors' suspicions that we really were running a house of ill-repute on the other side of the white picket fence.

Mom was telling everyone her no-good sister-in-law was up to some kind of fuckery up above the garage, expecting sympathy but getting licking lips and requests for further information. I suggested a colorful brochure and got exiled from the kitchen for my sauciness.

I returned with the critical final piece -- a strip of duct tape across her mouth. The snoring immediately stopped and she began to writhe on the sheets as she swam up from the depths of deep sleep.

Her eyes fluttered open. She pulled her right arm and was shocked awake to find it restrained. Alarm coursed through her slight body as she discovered all of her limbs were similarly restrained. And her tiny tits -- clamped!

"Mmmmphh!" she cried out, but the tape strangled the sound. She was trapped. Hoisted on her own petard, trussed like a turkey. And there, the corner of the room, was her butt nekkid and very excited nephew. Uncaged.

"Hey Auntie Cyn, hope you had a good nap," I chirped as I neared the bed. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks sucked in and out as she heaved angry breaths.

"Nnnnoonmmmpph!" she said, lifting her head off the pillow but she was pretty much stuck in place, her legs spread, that gorgeous pussy exposed. I could barely keep my hands off myself. It had been forever since I'd been able to abuse myself, but I had other plans for my freed willy.

"By the way, Waldo sends his regards," I continued. "Interesting guy. I put your stuff in the closet, by the way -- you're welcome! And then I went through your tickle trunk and I found out he wasn't shitting me about the bondage stuff. You really are a knotty girl, aren't you, Auntie Cyn?"

I leaned over and gently tugged the chain linking her nipples together and she squealed. I knew she loved it when I paid attention to her bullets. But how could I have known the gentle nibbles weren't getting the job done? Thanks, Waldo!

My fingers then strayed to her snatch and sure enough the juices were flowing. She babbled unintelligibly behind the tape and shook her head as my tongue primed her pussy lips. But this was no time for oral worship. I just cleared the wall and it was time to cross home plate.

I looked into her eyes, still wide, her nostrils flaring in excitement. Then I dropped the bomb.

"I know you made a point of your big rule, Auntie Cyn, that I could never fuck you," I said, almost apologetically. "But, that doesn't really work for me, any more than wearing that fucking plastic cock blocker. A man's gotta fuck and right now this man, your nephew, is going to fuck you senseless. It's a short trip but I see you're already buckled up -- enjoy the ride!"

I straddled Auntie Cyn and spread her viscous juices on my cock head and then probed her slash with my fingers. She made a show of protesting and shimmied her pelvis to prevent entry. I thought she might do that so I produced the third clamp from her bag and held it up for her inspection.

"Unless you're hiding a third nipple -- and you are full of surprises Auntie Cyn -- I am guessing this one in for that sweet nose of yours," I said with a smile. "I've seen you do underwater laps in the pool but I'm guessing after a few minutes of fucking you'd be a little blue. Do we understand each other?"

Cyn shook her head furiously in favor of a clear airway and moaned as my cock slid deep inside. After 10 days of chastity I didn't last long and I cried out as I exploded. And then I reached up and pulled off the gag.

I braced for a torrent of expletives, but she only opened her mouth to refill her lungs and to chuckle at the cheek of her nephew.

"You son of a bitch," she rasped finally. "You had to go and spoil it."

I got off the bed and quickly unfastened her restraints. I then pointed to the clock. "I think you're late for work, Auntie Cyn."

She got up in the puddle of my discharge. "Lucky for us I'm on the pill. But next time a safe would be nice."

I ambled off to the shower. "Nah, I don't think so," I called as I stepped into the stall. "My days of Cyn-ing are done."

She followed me into the bathroom with a skeptical look on her face. "You just blowing me off then?"

I shrugged. "You taught me a lot. I will be forever grateful."

Cyn stepped into the stall and I saw her nipples were angry and red from the clamps. No low-cut blouse at the club tonight.

She handed me a loofa. "Scrub my back, nephew."

I took the pouf and lowered it to my groin. "Suck my cock, Auntie."

Cyn smiled and didn't resist as my hands directed her shoulders toward the floor.

"Watch and learn, Cliffy," she said before her lips parted.

I rocked my head back. The woman had technique. I should have brought a pad or an underwater camera.

"You've spoiled me for other women," I gasped.

She paused a moment for the job at hand. "Yes, I have," she said before returning to her fine, fine fellation.

Cyn moved out a couple days later. She was the best I ever had.

-30-