Aunt's stories as she gave them. Aunt Lyuba. Mystical story

Friend's mom.

Alexander and Semyon were friends since the first grade, they were friends like water, they stood by each other like a mountain. They constantly went to visit each other; Semyon’s mother, a young, beautiful, elegant woman, always aroused Alexander’s burning interest. She often stayed late at work and returned home quite late; she was often accompanied home by men who showed her signs of attention, but, as a rule, none of them got further than the entrance. Alexander always envied Semyon that he had such a beautiful mother. Ekaterina Viktorovna, and that was her name, looked very impressive at 37 years old. She was short with huge blue eyes, light pink lipstick emphasized her plump lips. She cut her dark brown hair short, and the short haircut suited her surprisingly.
But the most remarkable thing about her appearance were her legs: slender, surprisingly proportional, with graceful, beautiful feet. When she walked like a girl in a miniskirt, gracefully swaying her hips, grown men always paid attention to her.
At that time, Alexander was 18 years old, he always had problems with girls, they did not pay anyone any attention to him, often calling him a nerd behind his back.
Alexander graduated from school with a medal and was planning to go into the army in the fall; he did not listen to the persuasion of his parents about entering college. One could understand him in this; he always repeated that in order to become a real man, you need to serve in the army and then everything will work out with the girls.
Ekaterina Viktorovna, or as Alexander called her Aunt Katya, whom he could watch for hours when he came to visit his friend with or without reason, each time coming up with a different excuse, just to observe his ideal woman.
Aunt Katya raised her son alone, dad left them when Semyon was three months old, he went north to earn money and it turned out well. One summer day, Alexander came to his friend, with whom they agreed to go fishing, but Semyon was not at home, as it turned out, he went to his grandmother in the village and brought her some medicine. Ekaterina Viktorovna was at home, a slight smell of alcohol could be heard from her, she smiled very affectionately at Alexander and asked him to stay with her for at least an hour, the young man readily agreed. He looked at his ideal without taking his eyes off, the woman was dressed in a special, sexy way, as if she was waiting for her son’s friend to arrive. Her light light blouse with a large cutout in the chest area.
On her legs she wore thin flesh-colored nylon stockings, almost invisible to the eye, and a very short skirt, from under which her gorgeous slender legs were visible. When they walked into the room, on the coffee table that stood next to the sofa, there was a bottle of wine, various fruits and a chocolate bar. Sitting comfortably on the sofa, the woman offered a drink.
After drinking a glass of red aromatic wine, which made the guy’s face flush and his head began to buzz. Ekaterina began to complain about her unsettled fate and problems at work, Alexander also shared his problems with the girls, that they did not notice him or simply ignored him, the woman listened attentively to the young man with pleasure, without interrupting, and sometimes asked leading questions. Having carefully listened to the problems of her interlocutor, Catherine suggested drinking more red wine; after the second portion of the sweet, but rather intoxicating drink, Alexander finally relaxed.
When Ekaterina poured the next glass, she offered to solve the guy’s problem and turned on
“Autumn Waltz,” she smiled tenderly at her secret admirer and said:
- Sasha, go, I’ll teach you a slow dance, all the girls will run after you in a crowd.
- I agree.
Alexander approached Catherine, she lightly hugged her admirer and pressed him closely to her, with the forearm of his left hand the young man felt the pleasant roundness and softness of her chest, with which Catherine pressed herself against the guy. Alexander collected his thoughts, which, under the influence of alcohol, were slightly confused and for some reason revolved around the desire to do something nice for Catherine. Pleasant, quiet music began to sound, they plunged into the world of slow dance, but soon the young man felt incredible excitement, and his erect penis stuck out his trousers and simply prevented him from moving.
The guy's face became flushed with shame, and in confusion he even lost his rhythm. Catherine pretended that nothing was happening and led the dance herself, while Alexander clearly heard the rustling of her legs, covered with the thinnest nylon stockings.
Her thigh periodically gently touched the young man’s protruding penis, and this made him even more excited. Her breasts touched his chest, he even felt her nipples, which were not constrained by the bra. The guy’s head was spinning, and he slightly closed his eyes to come to his senses; suddenly he felt that Catherine gently touched his earlobe with her lips and whispered:
- Well, how do I dance? Do you like it?
“Yes, very much,” he whispered back.
Catherine gently pressed her admirer's head to her shoulder and began stroking his hair with her hand.
“Let’s sit down,” she suggested.
“Come on,” the young man muttered uncertainly.
They sat down on a huge soft sofa, Catherine hugged the guy by the shoulders with one hand, and her other hand, as if by chance, lay on his leg, she stroked the young man’s leg, which made his penis stand up even more, and he felt that color floods his face.
“And I know what you want,” Catherine unexpectedly whispered in her ear.
And without waiting for an answer, she took the young man’s hand and placed it on her nylon-covered thigh. Alexander felt the pleasant, delicate surface of the stocking and ran his hand along the inside of his thigh.
- Don’t be shy, let’s be bold.
Catherine, moving her hand a little higher, began to stroke the erect penis through his trousers, then she unbuttoned his trousers and asked to take them off, Alexander hastily fulfilled this request, he acted as if in a dream and was even slightly chilled with excitement. The young man stood in his shorts, the woman lowered them and gently touched his crimson penis, which was huge with excitement.
“How beautiful he is,” she whispered, gently grasping the head of his penis and began rhythmically moving her hand up and down.
She threw the guy onto the sofa and pressed her lips into his, the young man felt a chill and began to shake feverishly, while his right hand ended up between Catherine’s legs, Alexander involuntarily felt with his fingers the delicate nylon of her panties, under which he felt a soft pliable tubercle, which instinctively began to stroke.
- Why are you trembling so much, don’t be afraid, you will like it, I always dreamed of being a man’s first woman.
Catherine spread her legs wider, and the guy’s fingers under the wet nylon felt a wet, hot slit, which he continued to caress.
Meanwhile, the rhythmic movements of Catherine’s right hand, caressing his penis, brought the guy to the highest state of bliss, he felt his penis growing to incredible sizes, immediately the young man was pierced by an impulse of unusually acute pleasure, sperm began to pour out of his penis, pulsating in a violent stream , spreading a specific smell. Alexander was lying on the sofa, he had never experienced anything like this, Catherine brought a towel from the bathroom and carefully wiped the guy’s stomach and chest, which were splashed with semen.
Then she kissed him tenderly on the lips and whispered in his ear that it was very nice for her to meet him one on one. Alexander lay on the sofa and felt at the height of bliss, meanwhile Catherine’s gentle fingers continued to stroke his chest and went lower and lower, so they were already stroking his stomach, and then again touched his tense penis.
“How nimble you are, however,” she whispered, feeling his penis and testicles with her gentle fingers.
“Now it’s your turn to please me.”
Alexander nodded his head fervently and got up from the sofa, Catherine lay down in his place and asked to sit next to him.
- Do you like my legs?
“Oh, yes, they are beautiful,” was all he could say, choking with a renewed desire.
- Kiss them, stroke them, do it and I’ll be pleased,
– she cooed tenderly.
Alexander did not believe his feelings, he touched the divinely beautiful legs of his beloved woman, stroked the pleasant soft surface of her thighs, then he touched her knees with his lips and began to cover her thighs with kisses, rising higher and higher, she was breathing heavily and moaning slightly with pleasure . With her hand she again felt the penis and began to stroke it, sometimes lightly caressing it.
With her other hand, she parted the swollen lips of the vagina, the young man saw a hole framed by bright red lips.
“Kiss me there,” she said in a slightly broken voice from excitement.

If you want to know the ending of the story, here are the links for you:

http://www.litres.ru/aleksandr-marchenko/pautina-s...

https://www.amazon.com/x41F-x430-x443-x442-x438-eb...

http://www.ozon.ru/context/detail/id/34854855/

https://ridero.ru/books/pautina_strasti/

http://booksmarket.org/book/Aleksandr-i-Elena-Marchenko_Pautina-strasti.html

A book for readers over 18 years of age,
contains stories of an overtly erotic nature.
Stories of real events and fictional ones...
Every reader will find a plot that he likes.

Erotic stories 18+, that says it all.

Olga Yuryevna was in excitement since the morning. Her nephew was supposed to come visit her. The woman was not in vain to worry: she last saw Yegorushka as a seven-month-old baby, at that time her brother Arkady and his family were preparing to leave for his wife’s homeland.

The father-in-law, the chief engineer at the enterprise, promised his son-in-law a prestigious position and a good salary. In addition, the plant provided departmental housing to invited specialists.

Since then, the connection between Olga and her brother has been interrupted. At first they corresponded and called back, but over the years the calls became less and less frequent, and the letters stopped altogether. And suddenly - a telegram: “Wait for Yegor on the sixth. Arkady."

At first, Olga Yuryevna decided that the postman had made a mistake with the address. Then I found an old phone book where my brother’s number was written down. She called, with her heart pounding, counting the beeps - what if Arkasha changed his place of residence, what if the phone number belonged to another person. But no, the brother answered. Coughing, he confirmed: yes, Yegor, his son, was going to see an army comrade after serving in the army, who lives in Olga’s city, and is going to visit his aunt.

“He left a week ago,” Arkady explained with a hoarse laugh, “the guy and his friend need to celebrate his arrival properly!” And he will come to you every day, be ready! Despite the fact that we have not communicated for many years, Egorka knows about you, my dear aunt, we have never forgotten you and were worried about how you are? Only with our distances you won’t run into visitors! Yes, by the way, Yegor must give you gifts...

Olga Yuryevna even cried a little. She lived alone. The husband died while still young, drowned while swimming in a pond, and God did not give children. Olga spent her days and nights alone. I didn’t try to get married a second time. The grooms wooed, but none of them resembled, even remotely, the deceased husband, and were unable to blaze a path to the widow’s heart. Therefore, over the years, Olga Yuryevna increasingly remembered her brother and his wife Tatyana, and of course, her nephew Yegorka, who lived distant lands from her, where night stays for six months and day for six months. And fate brought them!

All day on the sixth, she stomped around the stove, prepared a festive dinner, then set the table, taking out the ceremonial service from the sideboard, which was taken out only for the most special occasion. I tried to please my dear guest, but he was not there. Olga Yuryevna began to spin and sat down at the table, resting her chin on her palm.

Egor arrived around nine in the evening. A tall, handsome guy with a bouquet of flowers and a suitcase, from which he began to lay out gifts right from the doorway: an openwork knitted down shawl, a wonderful carved box decorated with natural stones, a box of sweets...

Why all this? – Olga Yuryevna fussed, inviting the guest to the table. - You better eat - I tried for you - but tell me how Arkasha and Tanya are doing, are they healthy? Long time no see!

Everything is okay, Aunt Olya! In retirement, your dad became interested in fishing, and your mom gave you a shawl as a gift—she knitted it herself.

What a needlewoman,” Olga Yuryevna was touched. - How are you? Have you thought about studying after the army or maybe getting married? Or will you still take a walk?

“I’ve had enough of it already,” Yegor laughed. – I go back to work next week. And getting married... This is a profitable business.

The aunt made a bed for her nephew on the sofa in the living room. While he was sleeping, she walked on tiptoe, afraid to disturb him. And she was surprised - in infancy, Yegor was blue-eyed and white-headed, but this, adult Yegor, was dark-haired and brown-eyed.

“And who only? – the woman shrugged. – Both Arkasha and Tatyana are blue-eyed and blond. It’s no different that Tanyusha has brunettes in her family. And that he was blond in childhood - all the kids change their color ten times.”

The guest stayed with Olga Yuryevna for a couple of days. During this time, I managed to fix the rickety door of the kitchen cabinet and repair a stool that had been suffering from wobbly legs since time immemorial. During the day, his aunt and nephew took walks around the city, and in the evenings Yegor humbly listened to Olga Yuryevna's stories about her youth, about how friendly little Olya and Arkasha were in childhood and how she regrets that now she cannot see her brother - distance, be it damn!

To say goodbye, the aunt baked a whole mountain of pies for her nephew, kissed him on both cheeks and invited him to stay. Yegor asked him not to see him off, saying he needed to drop by to see a friend.

“What a nice boy,” Olga Yuryevna smiled touchingly, closing the door behind her relative, “handy and kind. Arkasha has grown up to be a good son!..”

You're a dunce, Egor! – a tall black-haired guy reprimanded his blond friend, shaking with a hangover, laying out a bag of pies on a table in a train compartment in front of him. “I couldn’t act like a human being, even to my aunt—my own aunt!” – didn’t visit. Just as you came to me drunk, you don’t leave home in the best condition.

I have a vacation, I have the right! - he answered lazily, dropping his head on the skinny pillow. - You replaced me, right? Did you feel sorry for the old lady? Whoa... And I may never see this Aunt Olya again. She's old and will die soon anyway. But now, I suppose, she’ll give the apartment to her nephew, since she doesn’t have any children of her own. My dad was right when he told me that it’s good to be friends with relatives! True, at a distance.

“You’re a calculating bastard,” the black-haired guy said regretfully. – Your Olga Yuryevna is pure gold. She needs very little - human warmth and participation. And you... I would have suffered through orphanages and hostels, without a family, and then I would have understood what native blood is. What can I take from you?..

This mystical story happened to me and my friend Natasha at the beginning of 1995, when we were still very young girls who had just come of age. She made us believe in the life of the soul after death and its inextricable connection with the people we once loved.

On the 5th day of New Year 1995, a misfortune happened in Natasha’s family - her beloved mother died. For us, her friends, she was an adviser on all issues, and, simply, kind aunt Any.

Like most men in our vast country, dad could not cope with grief and fell into a drinking binge, which resulted in hospitalization in a clinic under the watchful eye of Natasha’s grandmother, who worked there as a nurse.

The friend was left alone in an empty two-room apartment, where everything reminded her of the misfortune that had befallen her once friendly and cheerful family. I, as the closest person at that time, was invited to move and live with her, at least until the 40th day from that mournful date when the soul finally leaves our mortal earth.

Until 9 days our life passed calmly. When we returned from work, the first thing we did was go to Aunt Lyuba’s room, light a lamp, and Natasha talked for a long time with a photograph of her mother. On the night of the 10th day, a terrible and inexplicable incident occurred. Late in the evening, when we were about to go to bed, the door to Aunt Lyuba's room swung open with a bang, and the sound of a fallen object was heard.

Running in, we saw that Natasha’s mother’s favorite, a Chihuahua dog named Zhuulka, was spinning and jumping on the sofa, squealing joyfully and caressing herself towards someone visible only to her. At that moment, the lights in the apartment began to flicker and the lamp went out, as if someone had deliberately blown it out. The fallen object turned out to be a portrait of Aunt Lyuba.

Wild horror gripped my friend and me. Holding hands and trembling with fear, we made our way to the table and tried to light the lamp again, but every time the flame ignited, an invisible force blew it out.

In a panic, grabbing warm clothes as we ran, we ran out of the terrible apartment, but after walking for a while in the cold and chilled to the bone, we decided to submit to fate, pretend that nothing had happened, return and go to bed.

Everything at home has already calmed down. Having undressed, we lay down in Natasha’s room, but sleep did not come. The friend began to remember how wonderful her mother was. And then steps were heard in the corridor. Someone came to the door and hid. From horror, we could not only speak, but also breathe, expecting that someone terrible would enter the room. However, nothing happened. Natasha started talking again about Aunt Lyuba, and the booming footsteps were heard again. Then the friend suggested that her mother did not want her to talk about her and was making it clear. Indeed, we no longer remembered the deceased, and the sound of footsteps stopped.

All this continued until day 40. At night the door swung open, the lamp went out, the portrait fell, the light flickered, and Zhulka frolicked joyfully. This no longer frightened us, because we knew that it was Aunt Lyuba’s soul that could not leave her beloved family. However, friends who looked at the light a couple of times ran away in fear.

Exactly on the 40th day, the flame of the lamp went out for the last time, a shelf in the corridor collapsed with a terrible roar and everything became quiet. Aunt Lyuba is gone forever...

That's what we thought, but we were wrong. A new round of events occurred 2 years later. Natasha's father married again and brought a new wife to the apartment where Aunt Lyuba had once been the owner.

The friend’s relationship with her stepmother did not work out right away. The father took the side of his new wife, and Natashka’s life became unbearable. Soon she was completely driven out of her father's house. After a while, everyone began to notice that my friend’s stepmother began to give up, turned pale and haggard.

Natasha’s father at that time got a job as a security guard at a factory and was often on duty at night. One day, returning from work, he found his new wife sitting on the floor. In the apartment, despite broad daylight, the light was on, and the woman was crying and shaking in horror. She told a terrible story.

It turns out that every night, as soon as the husband left for duty, mystical things began to happen in the apartment: steps were clearly heard, things fell, knocking was heard in the corners. But that night was the worst of all. The woman heard a strong crash in Natasha’s room and hurried to see what had happened, but in the corridor she knocked down by a huge pig, immediately disappeared into thin air. Every time, as soon as Natasha’s stepmother tried to approach the door, the pig appeared again. The poor woman squeezed herself into a corner and sat there until her husband arrived.

When they entered Natasha’s room together, everything was scattered on the floor; even the bookshelves, firmly nailed to the walls, were torn out by some unknown force. No one could get into the apartment, because the apartment was located on the 5th floor.

Fearing for the health of his new wife, Natashka’s father hastily sold the apartment and left. No more was heard from Aunt Lyuba.

A romantic and pornographic story about a young man and an auntie. Oh, this is a terrible story about a boy much younger than me. And it still hurts inside me. Let it be a filmstrip of 4 slides.

Coquetry
We flirt, both of us seem to be in a fever. He's seething inside. He wants to know what is there - in depravity. “Could you give a blowjob for 10 thousand?”, “Did you have two men, three women; was it on drugs, in the park; in Zaporozhets, with your husband’s friend; is anal sex very painful? And sex with love and without - are these different things? "I feel old, wise and very valuable. Sad. I am the keeper of secret knowledge, I already had everything. And I, unlike him, know what will happen in the end. Sadness.
I ask: “What do you want from me?” He answers honestly: “To see how a woman wants me very much.”

Sex
We're fucking. I miscalculated again. I thought he was nothing special, but I was already hoarse from my own screams. My body chose it. It’s like I have a syringe of lubricant inside me: just thinking about him, and I’m leaking. He inserts several fingers into me at once, but it doesn’t hurt me. Only the sky explodes with diamonds. I'm choking on his ***. The most beautiful, the most beautiful, and how generously nature has gifted him, mommies, how will he enter me (and if from behind)?? The first time he takes me by the head and pushes me onto his dick. To end. And when it seems to me that I’m about to suffocate, this dick begins to grow and grow even larger; I have no strength to endure, but I will never bite him, even if I stop breathing; Finally, I feel a shot to the roof of my mouth. Later, when he sits on my chest, covering my head with pillows, and repeats this trick, I will tell him: “Remember, what you just did is not a blowjob. You fucked me in the mouth.” And he will be flattered.
He is caring. "I'll fuck you until you get tired of it." I feel it in the walls of my vagina. I'm tossing around like I'm sick. My uterus can't contract anymore, and it can't help but cum. I mutter in delirium: “What is this? What are you doing now?” "Slipping off your cervix." "What do you mean where?" “Well, do you feel it? This is your cervix, such a slippery tubercle. Does it feel good?” In response, I arch up like an electric shock. “And if you get into cancer, I’ll show you your G-spot.” This experiment makes my nose bleed. He lifts my hips high and enters all the way. Oooohhhh, it hurts, it hurts, there is callus and blood inside, but how, how, why is this happening to me. Am I crying or laughing? I'm ashamed, I'm a complete animal. . "Do you believe that I have intelligence?" - I mutter, finding my voice for a minute. Laughs.
He is emotionless. Whenever I open my eyes, I see him watching me with a smile. He looks and smiles, he absorbs, enjoys the power over my mind. I'm wildly crazy with him. I am a **** who was made happy. If only he could continue. I say: “Now you can do whatever you want with me,” he answers: “For example, ask you to always make coffee when we meet?” He is emotionless.

Sadness
Eight years difference is no joke. I think I'm falling in love. I want and cannot cum without his ***. I roll around on the bed, wet with sweat. I masturbate in the bathroom, on all fours, and lie helplessly on the cold floor, it helps for about 5 minutes. I sleep with others. They are different. And I also feel great with only one person (I’ll definitely write about him, but he’s completely different). And the rest are something like this, neither fish nor fowl, and sex is not sex, but an expectation of something else; at the end of the process my uterus hurts as if it had been cheated. My body chose Him, other dicks can’t save me. Other men are not like that. They don’t have those hands and lips, they don’t give me electric shocks, and when I look at them it doesn’t seem to me like an angel came into my bed. But they are good and are healing me little by little. Although it hurts, it hurts, I want to cry.

Conclusion
I am becoming wiser, I will get rid of excessive arrogance. I thought that my violent passion would evoke reciprocal feelings in anyone, but that’s how it turned out. I am 8 years older and 10 kg older. heavier than necessary, and he has a beautiful girlfriend. I’m angry, I want to take revenge, I want him to fall in love and suffer. Finally, I understand that this is how it should be. This is fate’s plan: he ordered that the woman not only want him, that she would lose her head, become confused and thrilled, and that he would be calm. He needs this to grow into a mega-male. The memory of my sobs and groans will become a brick in his male self-esteem.
And I will do it. I will not offend him even in my thoughts, I will smile, I will become such a fucked mommy, I will always treat him in a special way if we meet again, I will never get rid of the slight spasm inside and the humiliation of one-sided love when I look at him (although I hope not to see him again). That's how it should be. It will make me wiser.
Thank you, my boy. I like you a lot.

I’ll warn you right away that this story is real, which means there won’t be any bright porn revelations here, but just what happened one summer when I was about 14 years old, in 1989. It was, as I already said, in the summer. My mother and I arrived in the village to visit her older sister Lena, my aunt. Then she was 34-35 years old.

We came to the village every year for as long as I can remember. Therefore, for Lena I was something like a son, because she did not have her own children. She was once married, but then she got divorced, and I don’t even remember her husband. She worked as an accountant. She was slightly plump, of average height, in a word, completely ordinary. And I didn’t perceive her as a woman until that summer - just an aunt.

One day, while rummaging through a closet, I came across a tattered book. It was called "The Borgia Family". Already from the first page, I realized what a find this was for me - of course, such vigorous “literature” (then a lot of this began to be published - perestroika - and people, as they say, grabbed the strawberry). At that time I myself had no sexual experience at all, and I was left only with erotic fantasies about girls from my class and masturbation. And only a couple of days later I started thinking - how did this thing get here? The solution, naturally, was obvious - my aunt read it, the same aunt who before that seemed to me something asexual. This means that she also had a need for what I so lacked!

I didn’t take any active actions (and what could I have done) - I had plenty of new fantasies. But one day my aunt, who, of course, perceived me as a little boy, asked me to give her a massage - we often played like this in past years. "Yeah!" - you say, “There’s no need to go any further, we already know what he’s going to write now! I hit her with my twenty-centimeter, and she howled and came. Of course, of course!” Not really. I simply stroked her back, but could not be distracted from the slightly protruding cleavage between her buttocks that slightly protruded from her sweatpants (Lena usually wore them). I ran my finger over it a couple of times, and my heart was pounding. I don’t know what she felt during all this, but she didn’t ask me for more massage.

Further more. One day, when we all went to the river near the village to sunbathe, she, lying on her stomach, unfastened the harness of her swimsuit, and for the first time in my life I saw a real woman’s breasts, not all of them, of course, but only from the side, but for me this was a revelation. I couldn’t resist tickling her chest with a blade of grass, as if playing. Lena pretended not to notice anything.

After all this I finally moved. The thought that there was a real, living woman nearby haunted me constantly. Everything was complicated by the fact that we slept in adjacent rooms. I started spying on how she changed her clothes before going to bed. I won’t say that I saw a lot - a couple of times the breasts, a couple of times the ass and legs (and they were completely fine), but this was enough for me for unbridled masturbation. I don’t know if Aunt Lena noticed all this, but soon before changing clothes she began to turn off the light, so she probably noticed.

After everything, bursting with teenage hormones, I decided that I had to lose my virginity with her and literally pursued her. In the morning, passing by her bed, he looked at her meaningfully, called her to rub her back in the bath, asked to watch TV with her in bed. It seemed to me that these were obvious hints. But, of course, she didn’t understand what I really wanted, and therefore she readily agreed, because for her I was her little nephew. Naturally, I was going crazy, and there were more and more stains on my sheets.

One day I was watching TV with her (some Soviet nonsense), when a sex scene began, quite modest. There was nowhere to switch, and we watched it all. My aunt, an adult woman, of course, was not interested in anything there, but it again prompted me to the same thoughts. I, as if by chance, put my head on her shoulder, and, as if jokingly, began to kiss him. The scene ended long ago, but I continued to do this.

What are you doing? - Aunt asked incomprehensibly.
I stopped licking (having already moved on from kissing) my aunt’s shoulder, muttered something indistinctly about a joke and a game, and went to bed.

The next time I went to bed earlier, and my aunt was watching TV. Already at night I woke up and went to the toilet. Returning to my room, I saw that Lena was sleeping, although the TV was still on. I was about to turn it off when I saw that the blanket had slipped, revealing both of her breasts. It was beyond my strength to pass by. I came closer with thoughts like: “Now or never!”, then, of course, I got scared, but decided that if I stroked her a little and lost my belongings, no one would know anything. And I ran my hand over my chest. The aunt did not wake up, but turned over in her sleep on the other side. I ran to my room in horror, not even trying to imagine what would happen if she felt something, woke up, and told her mother tomorrow. But none of this happened. In the morning everything was as usual.

Summer was coming to an end. We had to leave soon. One day, late in the evening, our friends took us by car to pick mushrooms. After picking mushrooms, on the way back, while shaking, my hand accidentally fell on my aunt’s thigh (it was hot and she was wearing a skirt this time). A little later, I realized what chances this gave me, and with each jump of the car over potholes (and there were tons of them on this country road), I pushed my hand deeper, and my entire palm was between Lena’s legs. And suddenly my aunt put her hand on my thigh. I don’t think she did it consciously, but then I decided that she understood everything and didn’t mind.

In the evening, as usual, while watching TV, Aunt Lena began to change clothes, telling me not to watch. Of course, at first I pretended not to look, but when she undressed but had not yet put on her nightgown, I opened my eyes and looked at her. I had never seen a completely naked woman before. My heart almost jumped out, my hands shook, and my penis stood up like steel. She, of course, didn’t see this, smiled and said: “What are you spying on, hooligan!” and went to bed.

And I'm with you! - I said, hastily undressing to my panties and crawling under the blanket with her. She wanted to object, but for some reason she remained silent.
Inflamed by the “events of the day,” the fictitious reciprocity, thoughts of an imminent departure, I could no longer restrain myself. I started stroking her leg and put the other one in my panties. Then, no longer able to restrain myself, I put my hand under my aunt’s nightgown, and, looking at her face (she was carefully looking at the TV or pretending to look), I began to caress her thigh (she was still looking at the TV, not at all without changing his face), and then suddenly felt something furry under his fingers. And when I realized what it was, I finished. I've only had such an orgasm a couple of times since then.

I lay there and felt my penis twitching and sperm running down my legs. The brains, which had previously switched off from an excess of hormones, suddenly turned on. I was ashamed and scared that my aunt would scream, call my mother, and hit me. And she turned in my direction, looked kind of tired and said: “Go to sleep.” I went to my room, and she went to the kitchen, telling everyone that she wanted to have tea.

That's how it ended. Three days later we left back for Moscow. The aunt didn’t tell anyone anything. Soon I made myself a friend from among the street girls who were crazy - “I always don’t mind.” (Although it would take a long time for me to repeat the sensations of that summer evening). Everything became like everyone else. And when we arrived in the village, my aunt and I communicated as if nothing had happened.

Or maybe nothing like that ever happened? It's not incest, is it?