2 comments/ 55848 views/ 10 favorites Thunder Threatens Ch. 01 By: nortythorts Thankfully the hosts of the party had a decent sized garden. It was a hot, humid August evening. The heat had become increasingly oppressive through the day and even the faintest movement seemed to send a trickle of perspiration down the back. To be inside would have been unbearable. Even outside his shirt was sticking to part of his back, and his armpits were damp. Pete attempted to be sociable but the fact that his aunt was the only person he knew, along with his slightly reserved personality meant that it did not come naturally. There was another issue, too. The last few occasions when he had seen his Aunt Jo he had begun to feel sexually attracted to her. It was wrong, he knew – after all, she was his father's forty-four year old sister. But whatever she was wearing she always seemed smart and attractive. Her brown hair was fairly short and beginning to fleck slightly with grey, but it was always well groomed. Even this added to her appeal in his mind - his aunt clearly took pride in her appearance and made the most of it. She she was still slim, too. She was also naturally tanned. She enjoyed being out in the sun and as well as her tanned skin she also sported quite a lot of freckles on her shoulders. Her breasts were smaller than he usually liked, but they looked firm and in proportion to the rest of her. Her legs looked good, too. They had lost some shape over the years but they were not fat and still looked good. His aunt was facially attractive as well. She had recently needed spectacles and the designer frames that she had chosen gave her a distinguished air. Pete was twenty-one years old. He had had several girlfriends and considered himself to have average sexual experience for his age. He had often found older women sexy, but not to the extent that his aunt had begun to make him feel. Oddly, he found her voice one of the sexiest things about her. She spoke and laughed softy but her voice had a slight throatiness to its sound, not quite husky, but something like it. To Pete, especially when his inappropriate thoughts about his aunt came to his mind, it made her sound very intimate and sexy. He had not seen her for many months but she had invited him to come and stay with her for a few days and catch up with her now that he had graduated from college. He found it very arousing to be alone with her. When he knew she was dressing, undressing or showering he was almost painfully conscious that only a thin wall separated them and screened her nakedness from his view. Out of genuine respect for her he tried to avoid leering at her, but it was hard not to. He tried to satisfy himself with fleeting, secretive glances. Once or twice she seemed to catch his wandering eye, but if so she said nothing. He hoped that she did not spot his frequent hard-ons. This evening at the party, with other people around, it was even more difficult. He had to be really careful to avoid looking at her in "that" way altogether so as not to be spotted by other guests. His Aunt Jo was wearing a cotton top with a small floral pattern and elasticated vertical pleats. It was sleeveless and bared her shoulders, apart from two narrow straps. She also had on a grey, calf-length cotton skirt. It fitted loosely but in some ways it was more alluring than if it had been tighter. Sometimes when she moved her skirt hugged her thighs, even sometimes hinting at the line of her crotch. The shape of her small breasts showed against her pretty top, too, and she was clearly not wearing a bra. To be dressed like this was not exactly brazen; her breasts were small and were supported adequately by the elasticated pleats of her top so that they moved little. Besides, it had been hot and humid all day, and it made sense to dress accordingly. And although she was single at present, Pete knew that she was not the sort of woman to flaunt herself. But in his state of arousal her bra-lessness seemed highly erotic. It was as if whilst appearing to be innocent she was in reality inviting attention from the men at the party – all of whom were married or at least "attached". Pete knew that this was not the case and was simply his imagination. But it was a nice thought to play with, and the fact that it was purely in his own mind didn't diminish the strength of his lust. He noticed several blokes looking at his aunt's breasts and running their eyes over her grey skirt, too, watching the way it moved with her, and trying to make out the line of her legs, her hips, her backside through it. In Pete's mind it made his aunt seem a tease, and it made him feel horny to see other blokes checking her out. The hot, sticky air made him uncomfortable, and was beginning to give him a headache. He was perspiring, and so were most other people. He noticed beads of perspiration glistening on his aunt's shoulders and above the neckline of her top. Inexplicably it seemed very erotic. "We need a good storm to clear the air," one man commented to Pete, as he wafted his hand in front of his face. Pete's Aunt Jo was nearby. She winced visibly. "Don't say that – I hate thunderstorms," she replied. "Ever since I was a girl. We were staying with my grandmother and there was a storm, a really bad one in the middle of he night. The chimney pot crashed onto the roof of the house, I was screaming in my bed, terrified, thinking the whole house was going to cave in on me, my mum and dad were with me in moments but I've never got over the shock. I don't know whether it got struck by lightning or whether it was the vibration of the thunder that did it, but it's the same difference – it absolutely terrified me for life." She spoke quicker than normal, running her words together, and her voice quavered with emotion. The bloke who had wished for a storm was visibly embarrassed by her distress. He mumbled that there probably wouldn't be one in their area and moved away to speak to someone else. It got late and one by one the guests at the party began to drift away. Pete and his Aunt Jo also left. Her friends wished them goodnight. The party was only a couple of streets away from his aunt's house and they walked back. This was the last evening of his stay with her, and as he was due to drive home the next day he was more or less sober. His aunt, on the other hand, while far from being off her head, was a little unsteady on her feet. She giggled from time to time, too, and leaned on his arm for support. As they walked home the warmth and weight of her body pressing against him stirred his desire. So did the way her skirt moved as she walked. Her arm was slightly sweaty against his. They walked up the driveway to her front door. She bent over her handbag and rummaged for her door key. He could not help glancing down her top at her small, partly revealed breasts as her top gaped open a little. She giggled again and passed him the key. He unlocked the door and let her in ahead of him. Partly this was courtesy. Partly, if he were honest, it was so that he could watch her skirt swing and sway as she entered the house and headed into the lounge. She flopped into her armchair and smiled. "Sorry, Pete. I don't often drink. I'm not wrecked but it's definitely gone to my head." Her speech was slightly slurred. One of the straps of her elasticated top had slid off her shoulder. She seemed not to notice, and after all it was a seemingly insignificant thing. But it took on a sexual imagery in Pete's mind with an intensity that surprised him. Each moment that passed she made no attempt to retrieve it and in his head it took on a symbol of innocence combined with a hint of implied invitation. Her pretty floral top remained in place but he glanced again and again at the loose, narrow strap across her upper arm and at her bared, freckled shoulders. His arousal added to the uncomfortable warmth and humidity and he felt almost light-headed. "Would you like a drink of coffee, Auntie?" he asked her, conscious that he had to say and do something to stop himself leering at her. "Ooh, yes please, Pete. Some of that fresh coffee would be nicer than instant. Fairly strong, please." "Sure..." "Do... do you think we will have a thunderstorm Pete?" "I... I dunno, Auntie. Don't worry about it..." He had intended to say that there was no need for her to worry because he was there with her, but stopped himself. It seemed too intimate and suggestive a thing to say. "Thanks. Is it just me, or is it unbearably hot? I'M certainly hot!" She fanned her hand in front of her face. He found his gaze drawn to her small, firm looking breasts under the elasticated pleats of her strappy top. The top of her shallow cleft was just visible. A shudder of excitement ran through him. He knew that she intended no double-entendre, but her words aroused him. He felt like saying, "Yes, Aunt Jo, you ARE certainly hot. Whatever the weather! And I know I'm hot FOR you!" But, of course, he didn't say it. He simply walked to the kitchen. As he went he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He glanced back at her from the kitchen doorway. He saw her hitch her skirt hem up from her calves to just below her knees. Again it was an innocent act, and after all he had seen her legs to her knees before. But this was different. He had seen her in the act of baring her legs, almost as if part stripping before him and for his benefit. He wiped his brow again, and as he stepped out of sight he rubbed his tingling groin through his chinos. He glanced round the doorway again and his gaze flitted from her bared shoulders and the carefree, slipped strap of her dress to her bared legs. They were long and, though not slender, were not fat either. He felt himself flush with excitement at the view. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a wide yawn. She removed her spectacles and put them on the coffee table. As he rinsed out the cafetiere and waited for the kettle to boil he tried to divert his mind from his aunt, conscious of his growing hardness. However much he tried he could not help thinking about her, though. Increasingly during his stay he had found himself glancing often at her forty-four year old but sexy body in her smart clothes. He found himself masturbating to mental images of her, too. Her being his aunt made him feel guilty, but also strangely excited. Tonight was worse than ever. Maybe it was as well that he was going home the next day, he told himself. He looked round the doorway and was about to speak when he noticed that her head was at an angle. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open. He stepped quietly into the lounge and, sure enough, she had dozed off. Her breathing evidenced it. Her face was flushed with the heat, and her brow, her neck, and the inside of her elbows were beaded with perspiration. Her legs were slightly parted and her grey skirt was still hiked up to her knees. It lay in loose, soft, alluring folds across her thighs. Her small breasts rose and fell enticingly under her floral top. He looked more closely at her breasts and admired their shape and size, unhindered by a bra, and partly hugged by the elasticated cotton. Again he looked at the slipped shoulder strap, her hiked-up skirt baring her legs to her knees, and the tanned, freckled skin of her shoulders and above her neckline. The knowledge was tantalising that under her top her breasts - the breasts of his aunt - were naked. As if that was not alluring enough, he was alone in the house with her – and she was asleep before him! All sorts of wild thoughts flooded his mind. He gave a low cough to test how deeply she was dozing. His aunt did not stir, and her breathing remained deep and regular. For a few moments he stood gazing at her, torn between arousal and shame. Fleetingly he wondered if he could touch her breasts or her thigh, just briefly and lightly, without her waking up, but he dismissed the crazy idea. He stepped closer still and rested his gaze on her neckline. The top of her shallow cleft showed, almost begging his gaze to explore further down. Her small breasts rose and fell sensually with her breathing. They were just inches from his hands. For a few moments indecision gripped him. Then his mind was made up. His heart was hammering in his chest and he was sweating – and not just with the heat and humidity, either. He went quickly and quietly upstairs for his camera. His nerves were straining as he came back into the lounge. His Aunt Jo was still asleep. He set the camera and mini tripod up on the coffee table and focussed on the alluring folds of her soft, cotton skirt over her thighs, framing from her waist to her knees. He set the self-timer. He picked up the television-guide magazine and held it in front of her face until the flash had fired so as not to disturb and alert her. To his great relief she still did not stir. The knowledge that she could do so at any moment scared him, but excited him, too. His nerves were on edge and his heart was pounding harder than before. He went back to the camera and zoomed in on her small breasts, from their modest undercurve under her floral, elastic-pleated top to the tip of her tanned, shallow cleft above it. Again he set the self-timer and shielded her face from the flash. He became bolder, but was still on edge, as she remained sleeping. He zoomed out a little to take in her tanned shoulders and throat. Still she did not stir as he took a picture, then a second, a close-up of her cleft and the skin between her throat and her neckline. He went back to his camera and focussed on her mid-thighs with the sensual folds of her hiked-up skirt, and set the timer once more. His nerves were taut and he fought indecision for a moment or two, then just before the flash fired off he stepped to one side so as not to block the camera lens. He lifted his aunt's skirt hem gently and slightly to get a picture up inside to her inner thighs, and, hopefully, even of her panties too. Again he held up the magazine to shield her face from the flash. He was longing to look up her skirt to take in the view, but time was of the essence and he told himself that he could view and edit his photos later and at leisure. The key thing, he insisted to himself, was to get the best pictures he could in the meantime, and to hope desperately that she would not awaken. It was only a matter of time before she would, and what he was doing was bad and fraught with danger. His dad would kill him if he found out. But as he looked again his aunt's breasts and at the slipped strap of her top, his mind was made up. The risk was indeed huge, but the opportunity was unique and would soon be gone. For ever. Taking her neckline in both his trembling hands, he stretched the elasticated cotton away from her. Very slowly and smoothly he eased the right hand side of her top forward and down. He watched her strap slip lower down her arm. He stared hungrily as her small, naked orb emerged into view. Despite its smallness it was firm and shapely. Her breast was entirely tanned, and he wondered whether she sunbathed topless outside or whether she used a sun bed. But it was her nipple that seized his attention. It had the effect of being swollen and puffy. Instead of rising from the flat centre of her areola, the whole nipple formed a large, semi-flaccid, rubbery cone. Her entire small breast culminated in an evenly and round-pointed tip. He stood and stared, captivated by the sight. Still his Aunt Jo did not stir. He set up his camera once more and took two pictures with the timer, one of her naked breast, the other a close-up of her enthralling nipple. Despite his nerves, he was becoming bolder with each passing moment. He set the timer up and leaned across the arm of her armchair with his mouth close to her mature, little orb. He held up the magazine to screen the flash from her eyes once more, and pursed his lips as if about to kiss his aunt's breast. He reset the camera and took another picture with his tongue poking out as if to lick her large, stud-like nipple. He returned to the camera and set the timer again. This time he knelt by her knees and carefully lifted the soft, warm fabric of her skirt a little, then posed to one side with his lips pursed just above her thigh, still shielding her face form the flash with the magazine. He knew that contrary to the old saying, the camera does in fact sometimes lie, and he altered the angle of his head for his next snapshot in the hope that it would appear as if he actually was kissing her thigh. He sat down in the chair opposite her. Still his aunt did not awaken or move. He wondered whether to risk disturbing her by trying to pull her dress back up to cover her breast. He decided against it. The risk was too great. He hoped that when she awoke she would simply assume that it had slid down of its own accord. In any case he was enjoying staring at her small, mature breast in its naked splendour; her large nipple looked rudely inviting given that its twin was hidden by her top. He debated further within himself what to do. Wild ideas raced through his mind. He wondered whether to fondle her or lick her bared breast and fabulous nipple, even though this would awaken her. He toyed with the idea of masturbating in his chair as he gazed at her, hoping that she would not wake up as he jacked off at the sight of her – yet half hoping that she might. He even wondered whether to make and spill some cold coffee on her lap – supposedly accidentally, of course. She would then wake up with a start, and he could enjoy her reaction as she realised that her breast had apparently popped out from her top and that he had seen it. He dismissed all these mad ideas. In the end he decided to risk simply taking one or two more pictures of his slumbering aunt and then to go upstairs to upload them onto his laptop where he could enjoy them – and jack off to them. He could edit them later. He returned to his camera on its mini-tripod. Again he set the self-timer and again lifted her loose-fitting skirt, a little higher this time. The cotton was soft, sensually warm, and slightly damp from her perspiration. He shielded her face from the flash once more as a precaution. He looked inside her raised skirt hem and saw her knickers. They were brief rather than tiny. They were of white cotton with black polka dots. His erection stiffened. He was sure that they were damp, too. He gently put her skirt back in place and focussed again on her bared breast. He zoomed in on it and took a several pictures of it, varying the angle. He zoomed in on her nipple so that it filled about half the frame. He took several more of the loose folds of her hiked-up skirt and of both her breasts together, the one bared, the other still covered by her elasticated floral top. He stood behind her and took another picture with his hands cupped as if fondling her breasts, though he was not actually touching her. With considerable effort he resisted the urge to do so. He picked up the camera and stepped back to get her whole body in, including her legs. At least from that distance the flash was not too close to her face. He risked just one picture of her including her face without shielding it from the flash. He picked up his camera and tripod and stood them in the hall. Perspiration was trickling down his back, though it felt as if it was pouring off him. But a wave of relief washed over him. At least if his Aunt Jo awoke now she would not know that he had photographed her! He stood to admire the view of his aunt one last time. He ran his lustful gaze over her bare lower legs and her skirt-covered thighs. He gazed at her bare arms and the top of her cleft. He looked at her serene face as she slept. He stared at her small, bared breast and her large, pink, rubbery, stud-like nipple. Thunder Threatens Ch. 01 An idea came to him and this time he DID act upon it. He wanted to make it obvious that he had seen her. He made some coffee in the cafetiere. The water from the kettle was no longer very hot, but as she was asleep it hardly mattered. He put some cold water from the tap in as well, stirred it vigorously but quietly and poured it into a mug, adding a dash of milk. He crept back to where she was sitting asleep. He stared again at her small, bared breast and luscious nipple as he placed the coffee on the table next to her. However short a time she remained sleeping it would be cold when she woke up.. He stole back to the kitchen and returned with a tea towel. He draped it gently over her naked breast to cover it up and, smiling, stepped softly out of the room, holding his camera and tripod in one hand and rubbing his erection with the other. He headed upstairs, eager to upload his photos and examine them on his laptop - and to play with himself as he looked at them. _______________________ Jo awoke gradually and yawned. She was drowsy and just a little inebriated. She recalled that she had been to a friend's party with Pete, her nephew. She glanced round the lounge and realised that he must now have gone to bed. She looked at the coffee table and saw the mug of coffee. She touched the side of the mug with her fingers. It was barely warm. Then she noticed it. She wondered why on earth a tea towel was draped over her shoulder. She pulled it off. She looked down at herself. She felt suddenly cold although the air was, if anything, even more humid than it had been earlier in the evening. As she tucked her naked breast back into her sun top she began to work out what must have happened. At some point after arriving home she must have exposed herself without realising. No doubt while she was asleep she had shuffled, her strap had slipped, her top had slid down, and one of her boobs had popped out! Pete - her own brother's son must have seen it - his aunt's entire, bare breast! And he must have covered her up for her modesty. She felt terrible – how embarrassed he must have been! Guilt gripped her. Although he was twenty-one years old she felt as if she had corrupted her nephew. She admired his thoughtfulness in covering her over to avoid the temptation of looking at - IT. She told herself that many a young lad would just have stood staring at the sight. She felt a warm glow that he was not like that and had acted chivalrously towards her. But even so, her nephew had seen her naked breast and her nipple! Jo cringed. She wondered how long he had looked before he had been able to tear his gaze away. He was only human, after all! She reminded herself of the way she had caught him looking at her sometimes – and of the warm and naughty feeling that his secretive, admiring glances had given her in return. She thought of the laughs they had shared during his stay, his thoughtfulness and kindness, his politeness, his helpfulness, and his compliments. She thought how good - and, to be honest, how erotic - it had been to have had a man in the house after such a long time. She thought of the second night of his stay when they had sat together on the sofa drinking wine as they watched a movie. She recalled with pleasure and guilt the way their eyes had met as they watched it, the way they had interacted at this and that twist of the plot, and the good feeling that she had felt inside at having him physically close to her. Thank goodness he was going home tomorrow, she told herself, before one or other of them was tempted! She felt guilty again that without realising it she had paraded her naked breast to her brother's son. She was determined to say nothing, and was confident that he wouldn't, either. She became conscious of the heavy, oppressive heat that enveloped her. As soon as she stood up she was conscious that her clothes were damp and sticking to her skin. She remembered that someone at the party had spoken of the need for a thunderstorm to freshen the air, and felt a knot of apprehension in her stomach at the prospect. She went upstairs, still feeling a little fuzzy-headed. She went into the bathroom and when she came out she noticed that Pete's bedroom light was showing under his door. She knocked on it and wished him goodnight. He called goodnight back but his voice sounded a little strange. She shrugged her shoulders, went into her room and undressed. She slipped on her cotton nightdress. It was blue-and-white striped and designed as a nightshirt, with buttons down the whole of the front. She liked to wear more glamorous nightwear usually – even though she had no partner at present it made her feel feminine – but tonight it was so hot and humid that she wanted something practical. The cotton would allow her skin to breathe and, besides, she could fasten as many or as few buttons as she liked. She put out the light, pulled back the bedclothes and lay on the bed with just a couple of nightshirt buttons fastened and her thighs apart, trying to keep as cool as the stifling heat would allow. Maybe it was partly the alcohol and maybe it was partly the fact that her nephew was due to leave the next day and there would be no man in the house with her again that made her do it, almost subconsciously at first. Or perhaps it was the frustration of the sticky heat, the threat of a storm and her dread of it. Maybe it was even the knowledge that her nephew had seen one of her breasts naked, and the guilt and forbidden pleasure that the knowledge gave her, that directed her fingers inside her nightshirt. With one hand she started to pleasure her breasts and stubby, tender nipples, the other snaked over her belly and through her dank, silky pubes to stroke, rub and then to probe herself... Her mind strayed to John, her friend's husband, but soon her thoughts became confused and she began to imagine that the hands caressing her were those of her nephew. She tried to block them out and concentrated instead on the movements of her own hands and the sensations she was giving herself. She did not guess that she had interrupted her nephew doing much the same thing when she bid him goodnight. Nor that as she now approached her orgasm, he had enjoyed his just moments before. She would never have imagined in her wildest dreams that, as he gritted his teeth and pumped himself harder, he had been staring at a slide-show on his laptop - a slideshow of secret photographs he had taken of her just a little earlier that evening! He had climaxed as he stared at a shot of his mouth pursed close to her breast and stud-like nipple, one looking up her skirt at her polka-dot panties, another of him standing behind her with his hands seemingly cupped over her breasts - his aunt's breasts...! Pete gave one long last approving stare at the close up picture of her naked breast and puffy nipple, then cleaned himself up with a tissue. His orgasm could hardly have been more intense even if he had known what his aunt was doing just a few feet away on the other side of the wall – or if he had known that she too was being driven by the same illicit thoughts that had just sent him over the edge. He felt terribly hot. Maybe there would be a storm that night. Then he remembered his Aunt Jo's phobia about them and desperately hoped that there would not be. Thunder Threatens Ch. 02 All characters aged over 18 ____________________________________ Although he was dreaming, it all seemed so real... It was time to leave the party, and he was looking for his Aunt Jo. Kathy, the host, said she knew where she was, and led him inside by the hand. It was very wrong -- everyone was looking at them. Once inside, Kathy pulled down one side of her top and bared her ample breast. Her nipple was big, the whole areola forming into a deliciously rounded cone. She scooped her breast to her mouth and licked her nipple, then took him by the hand again and led him upstairs. Oddly, the landing was that of his parent's house, and the bedroom door was his. Strange, subdued sounds could be heard through the closed bedroom door. Kathy pushed open the door, and his Aunt Jo was standing in his room with her back to the door. She was wearing her floral top and her loose-fitting grey cotton skirt. She turned round with a surprised look on her face. There was a startled noise and a guy emerged, still kneeling, from under her skirt. "Sorry, mate. You have a turn if you like. She's nearly coming!" he said. Pete protested that she was his aunt, but the bloke just shrugged and said, "So?" The bloke left the room with Kathy and the door closed behind them. Pete took up position on his knees, lifted his aunt's skirt and let it drop over his head. He gazed at her thighs and then at her white panties with black polka dots. He dragged them to one side and leaned in to his aunt's smooth-shaven pussy. Then there was a banging on the door, and his dad's angry voice. "Pete? Jo? What are you doing in there together?" More banging noises followed and a light flickered. Pete woke up. He realised that he had been dreaming and been awoken by thunder. He was also vaguely aware of a presence in his room. He sat up and saw his aunt standing just inside the open doorway. In the half-light he could make out a striped nightshirt. She was hugging herself and he saw that she was trembling. "Auntie?" "I... I'm sorry to disturb you, Pete. It... it's the thunder and lightning. I..." Her voice was shaking with fear. "Can I... can I sit with you for a while?" she stuttered. "Yes. Yes of course, Auntie Jo." He had been reminded at her friend's party earlier that evening of her terror of thunderstorms. His dad had told him about it several times, too. But he had never seen her horror first hand. He wanted to comfort her. At the same time he was very aware of the intimacy of the situation. They were alone in her house and here she was, his father's sister, in his bedroom in the middle of the night in her nightclothes. The bed he was in was a double bed, too, as from time to time her best friend and her husband came to visit her. Pete was glad that he was wearing pyjama trousers under the cotton sheet. His aunt stepped falteringly towards the bed and sat on the edge with her back to him. She was still shaking slightly. He felt a surge of desire for her; he already found her sexy, and the situation made him even more excited. He shuffled closer to her and put his arm on her shoulder. Her nightshirt was warm but also moist with perspiration, perspiration caused by the humid heat and by her acute fear. "It... it's alright, Auntie. It's..." His words were interrupted by a brief but bright flicker that lit the room. She spun round and grabbed him, locking her arms around his back and shoulders. He felt her small breasts through the cotton of her nightshirt against his bare chest. Her hand felt warm and soft on his bare back. He shuddered slightly with arousal. "I... I'm terrified, Pete. Bloody terrified. "Shh, Auntie, it's okay. It's okay..." "Put the light on, Pete, put the light on. At least the lightning won't seem so bright if you do..." He had begun to get a hard-on. He hoped that she wouldn't notice. He hoped even more that it wouldn't slip out of the fly of his pyjama trousers. There was a button half way up, but he rarely bothered to fasten it. Awkwardly because of his need to hide his erection he slid out from under the cotton sheet (he had folded up the duvet and draped it over the dressing table due to the insufferable heat), and crept past her to the door. He stood with his back to her and switched on the light. He tried to hold his wrist and hand close to his rising erection without making it too obvious. As he turned to face her, he let his eyes sweep fleetingly over her. The bottom few buttons of her nightshirt were unfastened, and it lay parted over her tanned thighs. The top few buttons were also open, and he glanced at her shallow cleft of her small breasts. Under the thin cotton the size and shape of her small breasts were very evident. The nightshirt was just that, a striped cotton shirt that buttoned all the way from top to bottom. Whilst it was not overtly sexy or provocative it was no passion-killer either, and she looked sexy in a natural, understated sort of way. He glimpsed the skin of one small breast between two of her buttons, and the knowledge that beneath the thin cotton she was naked was a thrill. He looked into her frightened face. He was painfully conscious of the bulge in his pyjama trousers as he slipped past her and sat on the bed behind her and at ninety degrees to her. He bent his knees and twisted a little to keep his erection from rubbing against her and gazed at the back of her head. He willed his erection to subside, but failed. He was glad that it did not stiffen further, but it was still embarrassing enough. He rested his hand on her shoulder and rubbed it, trying to make his movements as non-erotic as he could without making it seem too indifferent or mechanical. He tried to dismiss from his mind the sight he had had earlier of her magnificent, bared nipple that tipped her small breast, and he tried not to think of the secret pictures he had taken while she dozed, and to which he had later masturbated. He glanced at the time. It was 2.17 a.m. There was a low rumble that grew in intensity and lasted several seconds. He felt his aunt jump. He nudged closer to her, but leaned his torso forward to keep his groin from making contact. He rubbed her shoulder, still trying to avoid doing so in a provocative or suggestive way. His arousal by the perspiration-dampness of her nightshirt surprised him. He reckoned that it must be some primitive, primeval thing. He looked at the tiny drops of sweat on her skin and on his own arm. The atmosphere in the room seemed as charged with sexual tension as the air outside was charged with electricity, and the oppressive, sticky heat seemed to feed his lust. The forbidden nature of that lust made it still stronger. Another flash of lightning flickered through the curtains. Although it was not as startling now that he had switched on the bedroom light, it actually caused his Aunt Jo to duck her head in response. He felt her brace herself as she awaited the thunder. Sure enough a few seconds later there was a growl that almost immediately turned into a long, loud crack and culminated in a booming sound. As before, his aunt jumped visibly. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, she folded one leg under the other and turned to face him. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and so were her arms. Her nightshirt bared more of her well-toned, tanned thigh. She was shaking again. Her eyes were tightly closed. Her hair was slightly tousled. He felt both a desire to comfort and protect her and a desire to seduce her. "Hold me. Hold me tight, Pete." She felt stupid. She felt guilty, too, because of the awkward situation in which she was placing him. But, she reasoned, he was her nephew and there was no harm in it. In any case she needed comfort, just comfort in her terror. He had no choice, but he was feeling very nervous as he held her to him, desperately trying to keep his erection from touching her thigh. Once more he was conscious of her near-naked breasts against his bare chest, the warm, soft moistness of her nightshirt, and its open buttons that bared much of her thigh and that offered a tantalising glimpse of her small cleft. He knew that he was sweating considerably himself, and not entirely due to the heat, either. She rested her head on his bare shoulder. He stroked her soft hair and the back of her neck. Her fingers stroked his back. In turn he ran his hand up and down her side. Her body was firm to his touch and the cotton was deliciously soft and rudely damp. He was acutely aware that his hand was just inches from his aunt's breasts. He was really struggling to keep his head now. There was another flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by a long, resounding crack of thunder. Then it happened. She jumped in fear and inadvertently her breast rubbed against his hand. She gave a low gasp as she realised what she had done. Then she looked down and her eyes opened wide. He followed her gaze to his pyjama fly. His half-hard cock was clearly visible inside the gaping slit in the fabric. He pulled away, tucked it back inside and fastened the button. She gave a nervous giggle "I... Auntie, I'm..." "No, Pete, it's my fault for coming into your room. I'm so sorry!" He pulled the bed sheet up to his waist and this time he refrained from touching her. Within moments however there was another flash of lightning and, again, a prolonged crack of thunder that grew in volume came within seconds of it. The vibration of it could be felt. His aunt gave a cry of fear and grabbed him. He held her close and gently rubbed her back through her cotton nightshirt. He could feel her quivering. Then to his surprise she took his hand and pressed it over her little breast. It was warm and firm, yet at the same time it gave way a little to his touch. He froze for a moment, shocked. He withdrew his hand but she took it in hers again and returned it to her small, firm orb. She rubbed his hand over it in little circles. She drew her breath in slowly at the delicious feeling, and looked down at his young hand -- her nephew's hand -- in hers! She too felt shocked -- shocked at her own behaviour, yet excited by it. "Touch me, Pete. Touch me, and kiss me. I'm terrified, love..." "Auntie, we mustn't..." But her fear and her desire impelled her. She needed to feel him close, she needed evidence of his masculinity and his ability to keep her safe. She needed to surrender herself to him, even to her own brother's son. Besides, she had sensed his growing hunger for her; she needed him desperately at this moment and he had been yearning for her. It would be no seduction, simply touching the switch to allow the latent power to surge forth... She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. It caught him by surprise. Then she cupped his hand over her small orb and with her hand over his made him squeeze it through the sweat-moistened cotton. He was very aware that he, too, was perspiring, with heat and with burning, forbidden desire. "Pete, you must! I need you. I need it! Make love to me or screw me, but either way take me. Blot this storm out of my mind!" The slight huskiness of her voice was its natural sound but right now it was highly arousing. She sought his erection through the sheet with her left hand. She tugged on it. She leaned back a little and with her other hand she unfastened another of the buttons near the top of the nightshirt. "You're getting hard down there. Maybe a sight of Auntie's nipples will change your mind. My boobs are only little but my nipples... they're big and like football-boot studs... ready...?" Her fear of the storm and her shame made her speak quickly. He felt guilty for having bared one of her breasts earlier and for staring at it and photographing it in secret. He felt ashamed that she was describing her nipples to him because she naturally assumed that he had never seen them. Most of all, though, he felt bad that he was fondling his aunt's breast -- and enjoying it. Still kneading his erection with her left hand, she unfastened one further button of her nightshirt. He wiped the sweat from his brow. "Are you ready, Pete? I know you want to see them -- you've been eyeing me up for days. Are you ready?" "Yes. Yes, Auntie Jo." His head was in a spin. He stared at the flap of her striped nightshirt as she peeled it open. His heart was hammering and his cock was twitching in response to her playful tugs. His aunt's small breasts emerged, fully tanned, then her gorgeous puffy nipples. He had already seen one, but now they were both before him, presented, freely offered to him. Another flicker of lightning appeared and as it did she pulled his head to her left breast. He nuzzled the rubbery cone of her nipple, then, sensing her anticipation of the imminent thunderclap he sucked it into his mouth, along with her small breast. It thrilled him to have her entire breast in his mouth and as the thunder crackled he sucked hard on it. Her perspiration made her skin salty and he sucked greedily, feeling rather perverted. His Aunt Jo was shaking and rocking back and forth as she cradled him to her. He pulled away a little, gazing up into her face. Her eyes were closed and she looked serene, despite her fear. He fondled her neck and her soft hair. She raised her hand and pointed to her other small, sweat-beaded breast and he closed in on it. He licked all around her large, stud-like nipple, pressing his tongue hard against it, leaving a trail of saliva to join her perspiration. He began to suck on that breast too. "Mmmm Pete, feed on it, feed on it..." He kneaded her left, little breast and tweaked her big nipple with his fingers as he continued to suckle on her. He rested his other hand on the moist skin of her thigh where her nightshirt lay open, and stroked it. Her thigh felt firm as he gently squeezed it. She was sighing and cooing softly, and her breathing was heavy. She ran her hands over his chest and played with his nipples. He raised his head and pulled her mouth to his. He continued to fondle her breasts and thigh as he kissed her tentatively on the lips. Rain began to beat on the windows and on the road outside. To his delight she began to kiss him in return, tugging on his lips with hers, seeking his tongue and dancing and swirling hers against it. She felt safe, protected -- and desired, too, and despite her fear she began to savour his touch and his passionate kisses. She had not been in a relationship for a couple of years or so, and now her feelings were awakening. She felt a shudder of guilt as she remembered that this passionate young man in her arms was her nephew. But the shame seemed to make it more thrilling than ever. Pete had kissed plenty of times before, but it seemed as though he had never done so with such intensity. To be kissing his father's sister somehow seemed naughtier than fondling her. To have sex all the way with his aunt had been a fantasy for some time. But this was not just sexual foreplay, in his mind this mutually ardent kissing elevated them both to lovers embarking on an affair, nephew and aunt experiencing romance as well as sexual pleasure. It added a whole new dimension of taboo. She sank onto her back on the bed, with her head towards the foot of the bed. Her nightshirt rode up and inside it her could see her crotch. Her lips protruded and were pink and inviting. They were surrounded by verdant brown hair that radiated out in thinner spidery lines. He knelt on all fours over her. For a few moments he simply stared in wonder at the sight of his near-naked aunt below him; only her belly was now covered by her blue-and-white nightshirt. She had urged him to have her, and he would obey. Pete kissed her on the mouth again and they snogged passionately, licking each other's teeth, lips and tongues. She caressed the back of his neck with her long fingers, and scratched his scalp in rhythmic movements. He kissed her neck and throat and dragged his tongue downward to her shallow cleft, savouring the moistness of her soft skin and its salty taste. He rubbed his erection against her thigh; its firmness felt deliciously inviting through his pyjamas as he ground himself against it. He licked her breasts and nipples, her arms, and her upper belly. She groaned. The sound of the rain teeming down seemed to add to the intensity of it all, then there was another flash of lightning and once again the thunder cracked and rattled loudly soon after. He felt her flinch, and her eyes were still closed. He returned his mouth to hers and knelt on all fours beside her now, his hand running rapidly but lightly over her slightly clammy skin. He groped her breasts, kneading and squeezing a little roughly in his lust. Encouraged by her whimpers and murmurs he found the remaining buttons of her nightshirt and unfastened them. He sat up and gazed at his aunt, his hungry gaze racing over every inch of her. Above her breasts her skin was showing slight signs of ageing, and although she was quite slim for her age, a few creases in her skin ran across her belly. It somehow added to her appeal. She was tanned all over except for a pale triangle over her crotch and some narrow lines over her hips. Her skin glistened with little beads of her perspiration. He sensed his own sweat trickle down his brow and his back. He felt his erection glide out of the fly in his pyjama trousers and he watched as, with her eyes still closed, his aunt felt for it and wrapped her palm around it. He watched her long fingers rocking slowly but firmly and rudely up and down its length, where his own fingers had been at work just a few hours ago as he jerked off to the pictures of her that he had so sneakily taken while she dozed in the lounge. He gazed at the rude, purplish tip above her hand. A tremor of guilt shook him, but desire overwhelmed it. She murmured and groaned softly, and he realised that her was doing the same. He lowered himself and drew his mouth up and down the calves of his aunt's legs and her knees. He alternated licking with kisses and gentle sucks on her soft, moist, salty skin. He licked his lips and resumed his mouth's journey up and over her well-toned thighs. He steered away from her pouting pussy in case he alienated her, but inhaled its sweet musk and gazed at it, so close, so enticing, as he roved his tongue over his aunt's belly and hip. Her fingers scratched his scalp again. She squeezed his shoulders and caressed his back. Her emotions were as intense as the physical pleasure that her nephew was instilling. He sat up and stared at her again, and at his hands as he traced over her body. Her hand found his erection again, and once more he watched her hand and its rude, jerking movements. He lowered his mouth to hers and they kissed again, deeply and passionately. He gazed, entranced, at her large, puffy nipples and at his fingers as he teased and tweaked them, and scooped and patted her little orbs. There was a further lightning flash. She tensed for a moment then she slid her hand down over her belly and to her pussy. He watched, spellbound, as she eased her swollen lips open, revealing the shiny pinkness inside. It contrasted rudely with the brown silky hair that adorned her flaps. He gazed at the raw flesh and at the entrance to her love tunnel. "Put it in, Pete. Put that big throbbing dick in me and..." "You sure, Auntie? You sure you want..." "Do it, Pete. Screw me. Screw your Auntie. Hard and deep..." Again the thunder rattled the windows and made her jump. Then he guided himself into her enveloping warm, gripping moistness, and began to drive slowly but deeply into her. She moaned and grunted as he picked up the pace, and she drew his face to her shallow cleft, then to her left breast. He reached between their sweating bodies and found her hard clit. He rubbed it with his fingertip. She gave a gasp. Thunder Threatens Ch. 02 He sucked greedily and noisily as he drove harder and deeper. The humidity and heat made the sweat run down his back, and with a kinky thrill he realised that the grinding together of their bodies was being eased and lubricated by the clamminess of their skin. The sound of the rain hammering on the windows and streaming along the gutters of the road seemed to egg him on. He felt her give a few thrusts up against him and felt her brace herself against the bed. He rode her as her orgasm mounted and broke, and she clasped him tight. As it began to ebb he felt his own imminent climax. He pressed hard and deep into his aunt's body and ground into her and pumped into her until he was spent. He rolled off her and they lay side by side, cuddling each other but not speaking. Neither knew what to say, and both were reluctant to spoil the moment. Pete slid into a short snooze, the reaction to his orgasm. His aunt continued to hold him, clutching him tight as the next thunderclap sounded. She reached for his softening dick again. She had a fascination for the way an erection came on and subsided, the sensual feel of it in each stage, and its rude stickiness. She played with it as he dozed, shame and a sense of naughty liberation washing over her as she thought over what had just happened between her and her nephew -- or, rather, what she had urged him to do. She looked at the palm of her hand and on its sticky coating, her nephew's seed and her own inner juice mixed together. She looked at her little breasts, still rising and falling a little faster than usual as her breathing gradually returned to normal. She looked at her big nipples and smiled as she recalled his fascination with them and his pleasure in them. She wiped her sticky hand on her hip and shook him. "Pete?" "Ye-yes, Auntie?" Suddenly the shock of what had happened seized him. "Auntie Jo, what can I say? I shouldn't have... I'm so sorry..." "I'm not. I'm glad, love." She sat up and with a warm inner glow she saw his eyes fix on her breasts. "That storm seems to be dying away now, Pete. That... that's the first time I've ever had cause to be thankful for a storm!" She laughed, naturally, and her throaty voice sounded soft and sexy. "I'm going off to my own bed now." "Yes, Auntie. G-godnight, then. And... sorry again for what happened?" She stooped over him. He watched her small breasts flop very slightly. "I'm not, Pete. I'm glad." She kissed him tenderly on the mouth. He returned her kiss, then she pulled away. "And did you say goodnight, Pete? Aren't you going to come to Auntie's bed with her? It will be cooler than yours -- that's the only reason I'm going!" He grinned. "You mean..." "Of course I do. I'm shattered now and I hope I'll be able to sleep. But you never know, another storm might come and I'd feel happier with you in my bed." She dropped her voice a little lower, though there was no need. "Besides, love... I'm tired now. But in a few hours' time I'll be VERY wide awake -- and as you're going home in the morning I'll want to say goodbye properly." He blushed and started to feel hot again. "And as I won't see you again for a few months we both want that goodbye to be a sexy, memorable one, don't we?" He nodded. He stared as she sat up, her striped nightshirt veiling her back. She stood up and slid it off her arms, then stepped to his bedroom door. He swung his legs off the bed and followed her.