9 comments/ 112157 views/ 18 favorites Visiting Aunt Alexandria By: alexandria_lee When I was in junior high, my parents starting sending me to my uncle's house for a few weeks each summer. He lived upstate and I didn't like visiting him much...that is, until he got married. I never could figure out WHY this awesome woman, who became my Aunt Alexandria, married Paul, who was a complete disaster. But she did, and it greatly improved my summer visits...She was one of those people who brought a warm, light touch to any situation. I was, then even more than now, a hideous mass of introverted nerdy awkwardness, and she always made me feel like she was truly happy to have me around, and that I was funny, and even...less than hideous. Quite a feat. Paul was a violent drunk, and seemed to lack all ambition. He worked at Home Depot and would get off his 8 hour shift acting like all should bow before King Paul, for he hath worketh a solid shift, and did needeth his Coors Light. I scoff, in part, because since my parents owned their own nursery, an 8 hour shift was what we did on off days. During the height of flower season, we all were expected to put in at least 6 hours after school, and my parents routinely worked 12s and 14s. At the same time, Aunt Lexy was teaching EMT and emergency rescue courses, and in grad school. So, it made me insane that Uncle Paul expected her to do all of the cooking, house work, and bring him his 12 pack a night...When I was there, I would take over cooking duties, do the food buys, and try at least to not make the house any worse for my presence...Frankly, I worshipped her, and would have done anything to make her life more pleasant. I knew she liked dark chocolate, and seemed at least to be amused by the cartoons I drew in those days, so I would often wrap chocolate bar in some stupid drawing of mine and hide it in her bag. Like a clandestine love note. Which it was, in a way. I had a terrible crush on her, but didn't recognize it for that until later. Like I say, none of us could see what a charming, good looking, dynamo like her was doing with a lump like him, but I was sure glad that she came into my young life. In addition to making the summer visits more fun, she was to introduce me to physical pleasure like I had only dimly imagined, and have never realized since... My first taste of what was to follow occurred, improbably enough, in the parking lot of the Red Lobster. Red Lobster was the ONLY place that Paul would deign to grace with his presence, and so Aunt Lexy and I dutifully made our way there on this particular evening. It was their anniversary, and incidentally, my 18th birthday. I tried to bow out, pointing out the obvious, that "you guys aren't going to want a kid hanging around to spoil your romantic evening." Aunt Lexy gave me a bemused look, and said, "You mean, I don't want Paul hanging around to spoil a perfectly enjoyable evening with my favorite inlaw ... C'mon get dressed, we are going out, my man!" When she talked to me that way, as though I were actually a person whose company she enjoyed rather than (as I saw myself), a burden to be endured, well... I fell in love with her all over again. So I put on my church clothes, and was ready in, oh, maybe 10 minutes. I heard her call from their bedroom, "Claude, would you come and zip me up?" I walked into the bedroom, and my jaw dropped. Her back was to the door, and she was facing me in the mirror. The long expanse of unzipped dress, the white skin, the complete absence of bra straps crossing her smooth back or panty lines marring her perfect, full derriere; the calves thrust out by the high heels; the line running up the back of the stockings...I drank in this vision of feminine loveliness in an instant, and blurted out, " You are gorgeous!" And then wanted to crawl under the carpet with embarrassment. She gave me the warmest, most mischievous smile. "Well thank you, sailor! And you thought that your presence would spoil the romantic mood...I suspect your uncle will just grunt and order a pitcher of Coors. For himself. I could be wearing coveralls for all he cares. Your response made the effort all worthwhile. Now, zip me up, and we can go meet the ogre!" Hands trembling, trying not to touch her back too much, inhaling her perfume ("Happy Heart" I think it was called), I accomplished the task. We piled into her jeep, and she drove us to the restaurant, and as she pulled in her phone chirped with an incoming text. At her direction, I read: "gun b haf hr lat." I thought, "What an oaf," but just read it aloud, in a exaggerated caveman grunt. Laughing, she said, "Well that is YOUR uncle, fella. Mr. Charming." As she spoke, she hitched around in her seat, causing her dress to ride up her thigh. She caught me staring, and said with a giggle, "Hey take a picture, it'll last longer." Emboldened, I retorted, "Woman, don't tempt me. If I had my camera, I would be burning pixels, baby!" She smiled and said, "You have my telephone in your hand, silly..." and reached across to show me how to activate the camera, and then leaned back in her seat. "Go ahead, Mr. Photojournalist. Snap away. Oh, wait, boys like to see the tops of stockings, don't they? Let me adjust a little." With that, she raised her hips and slid her dress up a full four inches, until a band of smooth, creamy thigh was framed between clingy red dress and black thigh highs. I resolved then and there to never be caught without a camera again... For the second time that evening, I found my hands shaking in her presence. I snapped away, though, not wanting to give her time to change her mind. I sent the pic to my phone, and silently handed her back her telephone. She called up the pictures on the screen, and said, "Hey, they don't look too bad for an old broad!" And again, without thinking, I stated bluntly: "You're the sexiest woman alive." "Well, I don't think we can go THAT far, but listen, you have certainly earned first base this evening. C'mere. Let me give you a lesson on kissing. Or are you already accomplished, good lookin' stud like you...I don't want to presume..." Miserably, I replied: "Of course I've never kissed a girl. Or so much as touched one...Guys like me are invisible." "Well, Mister, that is all about to change" and cocking her right leg up to face me she leaned into me for my first kissing lesson from the lips of a goddess. Taking my right hand, she placed it behind her head, instructing me to gently run my fingers through her hair, massaging the back of her neck, at the same time demonstrating the technique with her hands on me. She murmured, her mouth an inch away from mine: "Don't force a kiss. Always better to let the girl take the initiative. If she opens her mouth to you, then that is a signal that you can gently start probing with your tongue, just gently pull on the lips with your lips, like this..." "Now with a girl, you should keep your hands as they are now, in her hair, or cupping her chin in your hand. But with a woman like me, who you already know, you can afford to be a little more handsy...so run your hand down my back, slowly, caressingly...that's it. Now, if you were standing in the doorway to her apartment you could run your hand down over her ass, but we can't do that in this position. What you can do is this: run your hand down my side and around my hip...here, to my thigh" and she placed my hand on that strip of bare skin, above the stocking top. "Just gently stroke it, you can reach the side of my ass, and stroke there, too..." "OK," she said, her voice cracking slightly "now slide your hand back up my side, under my arm...to massage the side of my...breast." The last word was a dry croak as my hand had already found its way to that smooth, firm target. Then she stopped talking and we both just focused on: the feel of lips and tongue and hand on lycra/cotton blend- covered flesh... When at last she pulled away, we were both panting, and I was erect. It wasn't helpful to recall that she wore no underwear, nor to observe that with her legs in that position, her sex was obscured only by a scrap of shadow...My heart was hammering in my chest. "Oh, my!" she sighed. "Look what you have done to me," indicating her prominent nipples with a jerk of her chin. "Well, I guess we are even. You are gong to have to rearrange yourself before we get out of the jeep, Mr. I-have-a-big-KNOB." She pulled out her lipstick, flipped down the sunshade to reapply with the use of the mirror, then looked at me critically. "Hmmm, that won't do." She reached across to scrape her pigment from my lips. We climbed down from the jeep, I took the opportunity to adjust my erection, and Uncle Paul's big dually came belching into the parking lot. ********** The following Wednesday morning, around 9, I was alone in the house, and as was my habit, teenage boy, was whacking off to a photograph that I had taken of her at a poolside BBQ the previous summer. In the photo, she was in a red sundress/swimsuit cover up, and was leaning down to ask a neighbor's child what he wanted to drink...There was a glorious expanse of her breast exposed, her full sensuous lips, the familiar playful glint in her eyes... It was actually a brilliant photograph, and was the start of the hobby that I still pursue today. I still strive to catch those unplanned portraits that tell the person's story, that reveal, in a flash, some aspect of the soul. As I took the picture, she looked up at me. Her expression was a peculiar combination of, "Oh, I know what you are ogling, you teenage boy, you," and almost a satisfied, come-hither look. As if to say, "Finally, someone noticed that I really have a rocking body." Anyway, that picture was my prized possession, and I literally used it every day. Others were into internet porn, or magazines, including, I knew, my Uncle. But to me the airbrushed models in those venues seemed too arid in their glossy perfection. Who could be aroused by those faint shades of commercialism when there, breathing under the same roof, was a voluptuous goddess? Paul had truly creepy porn sites bookmarked on the computer (Asianheshes.com...Seriously? Seriously!), and a stack of almost equally un-erotic Hustlers (too gynecological for my taste) under his bed. Yeah, I snooped when the house was empty. And, so it was that I was in the guest room, masturbating, certain that I had at least 6 more hours of me time, when in walked my aunt!!! I was totally mortified. As I fumbled to cover up, she said gently, "I am so sorry to have startled you. Class was cancelled, so I thought I would come home and see if you wanted to do something with me..." Her eyes tracked between the sizeable lump in the covers, and the photograph placed face up beside me. Her face transformed into a look of almost ravenous joy...as though a banquet were set before a starving man. She licked her lips, and said in a husky, almost whisper, "Well, it looks like perhaps you were thinking of doing something with me...or to me? Which was it, Claude? Do you want to play with your auntie?" she asked teasingly. "I'm really flattered. I remember when you took that picture, at the Fourth of July BBQ, and I wore that dress for you. I had caught you ogling my breasts the whole week before, and I thought, 'At least someone appreciates me. Throw the poor kid a bone...' Hmmm, but now it looks like you are the one throwing me a bone!" She began to stroke my thigh, perched there on the edge of my bed, slowly pulling the covers down as she did so...The effect was a sort of tantalizing strip tease, as my lower stomach, hip and then erection slowly came into view. "Oh,my. I think you might be very glad that I came home when I did." She began sliding her warm, smooth hand over my hip, across my belly, gliding over the sensitive tops of my thighs. Instantly, I grew to full size again, recovering from the earlier shock of her arrival. She took me in her hand and lightly began to pull it up, making a loose ring of her fingers, shrinking the ring as she rubbed over the head. I was mesmerized. Up and down, up and down, now smearing a drop of precum, over the head, using it as lube. When she noticed the precum, she said, "It looks like I am going to need a hair clip. Don't go away." I was mystified and dismayed when she jumped up and ran into another room, returning moments later, arranging a barrette to pull the hair back from her face. This time, she knelt at the edge of the bed, which put her face right at the level of my penis. She locked eyes with me, leaned forward, and gave the tip the daintiest tip of the tongue lick...the precum bridging from my penis to her lips. "MMMMM," she moaned, deep in her throat, and gave the head a slightly longer, broader stroke with her perfect pink tongue. She did this for awhile, my stomach doing flip flops, as this dream came true, and then she said, "Oh, where are my manners? I bet you would like to see more of these..." and she did that crazy woman contortionist thing where they wriggle out of bra straps without removing the shirt. When she unbuttoned the top three buttons, I had an amazing view of her breasts, lightly covered in a cream-colored, semi-sheer blouse. In the next moment, she engulfed my penis with her warm, soft lips, laving the head with her moist tongue, looking me straight in the eye...I would like to say that this went on for hours, with me holding off my orgasm to provide her with the pleasure that she so richly deserved, but the sad fact is that the sight of her wonderful, full breasts, the warmth of her mouth on my penis, and those mesmerizing eyes on mine caused me to explode with the first devastating orgasm of my young life. She swallowed most of it, acting as though I had brought her a feast, licking her lips, and with the overflow, she rocked me again by saying "You need to rub this on my titties," opening her shirt completely, sitting up tall to grant me access, and guiding my trembling hands to smear my own cum on her glorious erect nipples. She moaned in earnest once my hands were on her breasts, and then guided her right nipple to my lips. "Suck it. Suck my nipples. Yes, that's my boy. That's right. Harder. Tweak the other one. Pull on it. Ohhhhh. Ohhhhh." Her breath coming in short gasps, as I later learned she was violently rubbing herself, out of my sight, her right hand hidden by the edge of the bed. Together we brought her to orgasm, her first of the day, me tasting my own semen on her nipples, sucking and tweaking, and her rubbing herself. My every sense seemed to be heightened and engaged, smelling and hearing and feeling and tasting, as though my life 'til then had been spent sleepwalking, wasted in a muffled dream. I became erect again almost immediately, and she wasted no time in shedding her panties, and mounting me, the joining of our sex hidden by the folds of her skirt, her blouse completely open now, and off one creamy white shoulder...it is sight that is burned in my brain, and to this day, that scene plays out in my head, as the interior accompaniment to most of the orgasms that I achieve. It is sad, in a way, that nothing, noONE, since, has ever affected me as much as that illicit first sex with my succulent aunt. Ever after, sex has been a disappointment, and so I replay the video of that first encounter in the privacy of the room behind my eyes, and thusly achieve... moments of ...bliss. The ogre got home that afternoon around three, and greeted her with his customary warmth: "What are you doing here? I thought you worked Wednesdays?" "Class was cancelled so I came home and Claude fixed me a delicious lunch." "Goody for him," and he orced off to sit in his DISGUSTING recliner, in front of the TV, first 6 pack of the evening in hand. That´s right, he would routinely take a six of Silver Bullets with him to his throne, and then have one of us bring him his second six 90 minutes later. Like a fucking clock. The good part of this charming pattern was that effectively we had the house to ourselves by seven each evening. Typically, we would all watch some crap on the TV, SciFi channel ONLY for him, Auntie and I sharing the sofa. Love of science fiction was about the only thing Uncle Paul and I had in common. In a sense, of course, we were now "sharing" the same woman, but according to Lexy, "He really lets me go to waste..." Another irritating trait of Uncle Paul, was that he always left the AC on STUN. So we would freeze when he was home, and would often be huddled under a flannel quilt as we watched TV. That first night, we took extremely juicy advantage of both the coverage of the quilt, and his alcohol-induced stupor. Around seven, she said "Well, I'm going to go put on my PJs" Paul gave a little snore-grunt in response. As she left the room, she turned off the overhead light, leaving the room dimly illuminated by the blue glow of the TV. She emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, wearing a long, sleeping Tee, that came down to mid thigh. She slid under the quilt alongside me, smelling pleasantly of facial soap and toothpaste. Not a word was exchanged, but I immediately placed my hand on her thigh, and started caressing her bare skin. I heard her breathing quicken, saw her glance to her sleeping husband, not three feet away, and shift her right leg up on the couch, toward me, granting me access to her silky inner thigh. I took this to be a subtle "go- ahead," and so I slid my hand down between her legs, moving in small, light circles, gradually working my way up toward her molten core. Through it all, she stared fixedly at the TV screen, though, later we both joked that we had little idea of what was on...Maybe one of the "Planet of the Apes" movies. At some point, the edge of my hand reached her, and I left it there, making a gentle sawing motion, loving the feel of her silky wetness. After some time, she clenched her thighs together, her body, shuddering, rigid. I felt like I had just won the Boston Marathon, or discovered the cure for cancer. The next afternoon, she called me and asked if I had any interest in helping her pick out a swimsuit at the mall. Of course I said yes, that I'd love to, and we decided to meet at Robinson-May. I hopped on Paul's mountain bike, only used when I was in town, and met her 15 minutes later, only slightly sweaty from the ride. She gave me a chaste peck on the cheek and a hug by way of greeting and we proceeded into the cool maw of the department store. We ultimately decided on a fairly conservative, white, one piece, a racer backed Speedo that was cut quite high on the legs, and thus had the effect of elongating them. While shapely, her legs were not long, and the effect was quite pleasing. She had brought along a pair of high-heeled sandals and I thought she looked stunning. I thought she looked good in ALL of the suits, but being a woman, she had a very self-critical streak in the bathing suit department! It took quite awhile to make the selection, but I remember experiencing none of the impatience that would have marred a like excursion with my sister. I was happy to just be there, and play boyfriend for the afternoon. As we walked out to her jeep, I said, soto voce, "I dare you to cut the lining out of that suit..." "Oh, yeah, well I double dare you to climb into the jeep for about 10 minutes." As she groped for the keys she said, "Huh, I seem to have left my underwear...in my bag. That's odd" We climbed in and I wasted no time in reaching for her. The jeep was a soft top, with those crappy plastic windows which afforded a modicum of privacy. We locked lips, kissing greedily, and I worked my hand inside her top, fumbling with the front closure on her bra. She leaned back, so that she was across the seat, the gear shift poking her in the side, so that I could reach all of her. I played with her breasts, savoring the fullness, the perfect gourd shape, the exquisitely-responsive nipples, while reaching my right arm down to raise her skirt. The whole situation was thrilling, and the semi-public nature of it made it even more so. She told me later that a young bicycle-mounted mall security cop had ridden slowly by, stopped, and peered intently through the windshield. She locked eyes with him, and he stayed, watching, watching me groping her breast until she achieved orgasm, then he saluted and rode off. That experience awoke in her an exhibitionist streak that would shape much of our activity over the following days. Visiting Aunt Alexandria At the time though, there in the front seat of the jeep, I was oblivious, focused on exploring her sex with my fingers, the moist folds, the secret button... until she gasped, arching her back, and craning her neck to kiss me greedily. "What about you?" "Oh, I'll finish in about 12 seconds in the shower." "No. Now. Here. I want to watch you finish what I interrupted yesterday morning." She sat up, unbuttoning her top, skirt hiked fully up to give me a view that was utterly pornographic. I hiked my tshirt up, slid my shorts down to my knees, and went to work. I was already hard, and with my eyes locked on her exposed erect nipples, her visibly wet cunt, in the mall parking lot at 5pm, I exploded with very little effort. She bent over my lap, sighing happily, and licked the ejaculate off of my fingers, my belly, my thighs. Kissed me with the taste of me on her lips and we parted to make our separate ways home. The following morning was the Friday before the Fourth of July. She had the day off while the ogre would get the following Monday off. Lucky us. When I came into the kitchen her phone rang, and it quickly became apparent that it was Kathy the Bitch, Paul's sister, my unloved aunt. She had a much nicer house, three boys, and a pool, and she was notoriously long-winded on the phone. Lexy gave me a bright smile, then made a shooting herself in the head gesture, and settled in for a long tedious call, elbows on the breakfast bar, leaning forward. This position had two highly desirable effects: One, it made her robe gape open in front, and her cleavage, damp from the shower, was nicely displayed. Two, it thrust her delicious butt out, her robe riding up high on the backs of her thighs. I walked around her openly ogling her from all sides. She tracked me with her eyes, while making monosyllabic responses to show Kathy that she was listening. Ultimately, I settled on pressing in behind her, silently nuzzling her neck. I reached around and got a nice handful of breast, and I worked the robe off of her shoulder so that her top was held in place only by the tie around her waist. Her nipples were fully erect as soon as I started in on her neck, and my pulling on them was really making her squirm in tortured silence. I stopped for a moment to fetch my camera, and walked around taking pictures from all angles. Then I resumed my assault on her from the rear. Once more I pressed into her, my fully erect state now achingly apparent. Reaching down I slid my hands on the bare skin of her thighs, sliding upward, bringing the hem of the robe up until it too was wrapped around the tie at her waist. This was a particularly lovely scene-her damp hair hanging in tendrils around her face and neck, the robe covering nothing more than the top of her hips. I forced her feet apart and then backed off to capture it all in digital perpetuity. I noticed one thing immediately as I zoomed in for a close up of her sex, she had SHAVED this morning. I set the camera on the barstool next to her, left it on in video mode and leaned in to lick that freshly washed and shaved rosebud. She gasped audibly, covering it with Kathy by saying she had just seen a mouse run across the kitchen floor. Later, she told me that it was the first time that someone had eaten her asshole and she almost reached orgasm on the spot, her ass now writhing in the air, in invitation. I stood up, stepped out of my gym shorts and began wetting the head on her lips, sliding it fore and aft until it was good and lubed...then a quick plunge as I mounted her from behind. Another audible gasp and as I began to fuck her in earnest, and heard her stammer to Kathy that she had go and get that mouse. There was one more burst of verbiage from Kathy, which finally explained the reason for the call: Kathy and her hapless husband Brian both had to go off to work, " but the kids were going to be home alone and why don't you and Claude go over and hang out poolside with them..." All that for what could have been said in a text...Lexy shut down her phone and then began to forcefully buck back against my thrusts, bracing herself on the counter with her left forearm, reaching down to rub vigorously with her right. Now we were both panting and she was moaning: "Oh fuck me. Ohhhhhh FUCK me! OHHH FUCK ME!" and I felt her clamp and freeze but I could not stop and continued to pound into her until I too climaxed. "Oh. God. That might have been the hottest ever." Then chuckling. "Hot illicit monkey sex while on the phone with the original frigid ball-busting bitch. God that is priceless. I really hope I get to tell her that one day. 'Oh, that mouse in the kitchen? Yeah that was your 18 year old nephew tossing my salad-very hot, let me tell you, a first for me-then the second was when he started pounded into my dripping cunt from behind. Because, beeyatch, that is how we roll here in THIS house.'" I was too wrung out to be very responsive, and as I softened and fell out, a copious quantity of my discharge dripped down her thigh. I reached for the camera, turned off video mode, and took some stills as she arranged herself on the bar, on her back, legs gaping, draped off of the end, clean and fresh and glistening pink, her chest flushed, a crazed light in her eyes. "Eat me. Eat me out. Suck all of that spunk out of my cunt and make me cum again!" Taking a few more stills, I did as directed. Kissing her open-mouthed afterward, transferring my sperm once more into her greedy mouth, we staggered off to the couch for our first post-coital nap. As planned, we made our way over to Aunt Kathy's house, in the early afternoon. We were greeted by the twins, my cousins, who were a whopping 10 days older than me... They were actually, OK, and though not close, we were friendly, if not friends. It was immediately apparent that they too adored Aunt Lexy, being the anti-thesis of their control freak mom. And hot besides. I felt a momentary pang of jealousy, when she kissed them on the lips, gave them big hugs, and commented on some positive personal aspect of each. "Oh, Tom, once you lose those braces, you are going to have to fend the ladies off with a stick..." that sort of thing. The jealousy passed quickly though, because, I HAD her, and they adored many of the same things about her that I did, so the afternoon turned into a strange sort bonding event, a competition where each of us tried to impress her, and she, large heart soul that she was, showered us all with her love. I realized something that afternoon, and that there is always enough love to go around, if you have a happy heart... She cajoled James, the oldest by 12 minutes, into making a pitcher of margaritas, while she went off to change into her suit. We made our way out to the pool, and when she emerged wearing the new speedo, all of three of us stopped talking, jaw-dropped silence. "What is wrong with you, guys? Never seen an old lady in a one piece...What does a chick have to do around here to get a drink? Hmmm, James?" Emboldened James retorted, "Dad says, ya gotta kiss the cook, so that goes for the bartender, too." "Seems like a sound rule, pucker up babycakes." She approached him, wrapped her arms around him and gave him a nice long kiss on the lips. "Now about that drink..." We got cans of soda, she had her salted glass, and we made our way to the pool. She climbed onto the floaty chair, took a pull on her drink, pronounced it yummy, and then summoned Tom, "The Younger," to apply her sunblock. There was an instant clamor of "Ahhhh, no, I wanna do it" which she resolved thusly: "OK, fine, twins each get a leg, Claude gets the top, and don't miss anything or I will burn, and I won't be happy!" So, I got her top half, possibly my favorite parts of her, and carefully worked the lotion right up to the very edge, and slightly under the edge of her suit. Each of the other two boys was taking the same care, and the same pleasure in applying lotion to the very limits of propriety... She finished her drink, set the glass on the edge of the pool and slid off into the pool. We played marco polo, each of us taking every opportunity to brush, rub, and grab Lexy. After perhaps 15 minutes, she got out of the pool, dangling her legs in the water and leaned back on her elbows. We all clocked it immediately. When wet her suit was transparent. The dark areolas of her breasts were clearly defined. The suit molded itself to her freshly shaven sex, making her appear even more naked than nude. When we were all staring at her exposed body, and she realized the full power she held over us, her nipples became completely erect, practically poking holes in her new, linerless suit... Languidly she rolled onto her tummy, and draped herself along the edge of the pool, one arm in the water. "Tommy, will you come and do my back" With trembling hands Tom applied the lotion everywhere. We all watched in amazement, as he rubbed it into the very tops of her thighs, the exposed sides of her breasts, her back, her legs. He took his time, was thorough, and she was wallowing in bliss. As the suit dried, our young erections subsided and we resumed our play, though now taking every opportunity to splash her at pool's edge. It was the week after the Fourth that I witnessed two disturbing events. They were disconcerting both for the direct content, and equally for the ugly truths that I learned about myself. Once again we had gone out to dinner and had driven separately. Pizza Hut this time. Lexy was casually dressed in a mid thigh skirt, strappy high- heeled sandals, and a tight low cut top with one of those built in bralets. She looked just a few notches this side of slutty, and as usual, I couldn't keep my hands off of her once we got in the jeep. My obsession with touching her caused what came next. Out of deference to me, she had quite given up on underwear, and her skirt hiked up high on her bare thighs as she had climbed in. She had had a few glasses of Chardonnay, maybe one more than was prudent, but was, by no means drunk. However, as we headed home, my reaching over and playing "stroke the pussy," caused her to swerve. That was all it took. Immediately, the interior of the jeep was strobed in the blue and red of a cop behind us. "Oh Fuck," she said, reaching across me to extract the car's registration from the glove box. The cop approached on my side and I opened up the jeep's door to accommodate him. Totally ignoring me, his eyes raked Alexandria's exposed thighs, her full breasts straining within the confines of her top, and he began to give her the third degree. She answered deferentially, "Yes officer, no officer," but it was obvious that he was not going to let us go with just a lecture. "Ma'am, step out of the jeep, and come around here to the curb." "Stand on the curb-just the curb-and bend over and touch your toes." She did as instructed, standing in front of the jeep, bathed in the harsh glare of the headlights, bending fully from the waist, her skirt riding up to expose just a glimpse of her sex, her top gaping open to display her ample cleavage. He walked all around her, clearly getting off on the power he had over this beauty. "Ok. Place your hands on top of the Jeep, while I check you for weapons." I heard the snap of him donning latex gloves, and his voice was audibly strained now, as he gripped her arm and guided her over to my open door. He stepped directly behind her, and encircling both of her wrists with his hands, he placed her hands on top of the roll bar. In this position, her chest was heaving perhaps a foot away from my face. He forcefully used his foot to spread her legs, and pressing hard against her from behind, he began to pat her down, sliding his hands down her bare arms, breathing against the back of her neck, then on until he was openly cupping her breasts, right in front of me, quickly giving the nipples a tweak, leeringly saying that a lot of you carry a gun in your bra, but it doesn't seem like you even have a bra. Then across her taut belly, the pale blue gloves contrasting with the bright red of her top, working his hands down over her hips. There he stopped, and changed tactics, hunkering down, and starting again at her widespread feet, up her bare legs, then up to her short skirt. His left hand grabbed her ass, a handful of it, and with his right, he reached under her skirt, between her legs, and ran his gloved hands over her hairless, now sopping lips. Throughout this spectacle, I was horrified to find that I was paralyzed to intervene, and at the same time was painfully aroused. She was sobbing now, at the manhandling and the groping, but panting with arousal as well. For I learned then that part of her LIKED it rough and forceful, the sensation of being under the power of another... He had been muttering dark threats throughout this ordeal, that if she resisted he could have her license, and she would lose her job. After recognizing that she was pantiless, something seemed to snap in him. Quickly he fumbled out his handcuffs, and cuffed her hands to the rollbar. He staggered back to his patrol car, reached in to kill his lights and to get some items from inside the car. He hurried back and handed me a video camera. He rasped, addressing me for the first time, "Film this...film me fucking this bitch." And, God save me, I did. He yanked her top down to expose her tits, and hiked her skirt all the way up. He had also gotten his nightstick, which he placed across her throat, choking her. With his other hand he unzipped, and wet as she was, was inside her in a moment. It didn't last long, no more than a minute, him slamming up into her, from behind, choking her with the nightstick, pulling her head back by the hair. Her breasts were flopping, and she was making moaning, choking noises. He came with a roar, planted deep inside her, and releasing his various holds on her, twisted her head around to kiss her hard on the lips, biting her and leaving a purple bruise. He gave her nipples one last vicious squeeze, then un-cuffed her, claimed the camera from me, and scurried back to his patrol car. He peeled out moments later. She collapsed into the car, across my lap. She could barely talk, her throat and lips bruised. "Did that just happen," she croaked? She crawled in, and sat up on my lap, her back to me. "I am going to need you to do something for me. Oh, good you ARE hard. That's it, come to momma, uhhh, yes, I need your cock in me...that fucker didn't even give me time to finish...uhhh, no manners...I think it speaks to a breakdown in our society (she was almost breaking, hysteria climbing within her)...uhhh, yes, that's my boy, fill me up. Do you feel his cum? I am all sloppy aren't I. Oh, my clit. Yes, YES!" I could feel the vibration of her rubbing, and knew we were both very close. I reached up and began to maul her breasts, and I too pulled hard on her hair, pulling her down onto me, impaling her. That bit of violence sent her over the edge. "FUCK ME!" she screamed. And we both came, hard. Semen, mine and his, streamed down over me, and I was revolted by myself. Exhilarated by witnessing a rape, a flagrant abuse of power...And I got off on it. "I am so sorry, I..." "Don't. Just don't" And the trip home passed in our first, painfully uncomfortable silence. Twenty minutes later we were back at the house. She reapplied her lipstick, hoping to hide the bitemark on her lips, and straightened herself as best she could. There was little I could do for my part-I had a lap full of cum. For a rarity, Paul was not inside, astride his throne, but was waiting in the dark on the porch, ambushing her. For the second time in an hour, I was completely ignored. "What the FUCK took you so long? You stop and fuck your boyfriend, using my nephew for cover? Huh? Answer me you whore! He opened the front door, and her poor battered throat, the purple bruise on her neck, the stretched neckline of her blouse were all thrown into stark illumination. "Holy shit! I was RIGHT. You fucking bitch. Who is he? That fucking spick that always gives you free shit at the nursery? Or that old wop at the pharmacy? I've SEEN how those fuckers look at you. He stopped just short of slapping her, but he forcefully pulled her half up onto the porch and flicked on the porch light. "Stop, you're hurting me." "Oh, I'm hurting you? You tear my heart out, make a fool of me in my own neighborhood, and I'm hurting YOU?" "Fuck you Alexandria, you high and mighty bitch. It looks like someone used you hard tonight. Well, guess what? I´m gonna get my weekly right now. Right fucking now, with the neighbors right there, and my fucking nephew right there, I'm going to fuck you bloody, right on this porch, as he was ranting, he yanked down on her top so that once more her breasts were exposed, and this time her arms pinioned to her sides. He pushed her stumbling to fall on her face, without her arms to catch her, she landed hard, sobbing in her earnest now. In one swift motion he unzipped, and mounted her, forcefully driving into her. He was sobbing now too, slapping her ass hard, again pulling up on her hair repeating : "Your cunt is all wet. You are dripping another man's cum..." He came even sooner than the cop had, and as he did I roused myself from my torpor and brained him with his prized yard gnome. Time stopped as I watched him collapse, bleeding profusely from the cut on the back of his head, jagged shards of ceramic raining down on Lexy's back. I kicked him off the porch, and too little, too late, scooped up my lover and carried her into the house. Kicking the door closed behind, I carried her into the shower, undressed her and let the warm water do what it would. She was shivering violently, in shock from the dual assault, and probably from my belated defense as well. I adjusted the water temperature, and allowed her to slide down the wall, so that she was sitting on the floor, the warmth streaming over her. I ran into the kitchen opened a can of coke, dumped it in a mug, and placed it in the microwave. I gently guided her out of the shower, dried her and wrapped her in her warmest fluffy robe. I propped her up in bed, a quilt up to her chin and forced her to drink some of the hot sweet concoction... Her shivering subsided, but she would not look me in the eyes. Gently I asked, "Do you want the light on or off'" "On," she mumbled and rolled onto her side, her back to me with a terrible finality. I glided out of the room, checking all of the doors to ensure that Paul stayed outside. I spent the longest night of my life, earplugs in to try and block out the night's horrors, Paul's banging on the door, then the police, who had been called by the neighbor, Tom who had seen and heard it all, as he enjoyed his customary cigar in the garden in the dark...Tom saved us both. It was on the strength of his testimony that allowed a no contest divorce verdict, that cleared me, of wrongdoing. The local paper loved it, painting me as a hero, when in fact none of it would have happened had I been able to keep my hands to myself. I left that next day, and that was the last I saw of my Aunt Alexandria. Unsurprisingly, that two week period marked me in a myriad of profound ways. I learned that the press usually gets it wrong... Actions have consequences... You can be on top of the world and moments later a wheel comes off and you lose everything...People, even, ogres that are as easy to caricature as Uncle Paul, have feelings. They hurt just as much as anyone, but may not have the vocabulary to express anything other than rage. And that people bleed a lot when you hit them with a hideous piece of yard ceramic from that fuckin' spic down at the nursery...