0 comments/ 46633 views/ 8 favorites Weird Auntie Jayne Ch. 01 By: Nigel Debonnaire It was another Friday night, and I was on the Mizzou campus with my buddies again. We were too young to drink, which stopped us from cruising the bars, but not from sneaking a couple bottles of Everclear into Mark Patrick's room and mixing it with lemonade made from Wyler's canned mix to get a buzz on. A couple of take out pizzas from Shakespeare's provided basic nourishment, so we had a solid base for heavy drinking. The party could have been at my house, the place I inherited from my folks across town, but my Auntie Jayne next door kept a close eye on my comings and goings and told me explicitly I couldn't have my friends over. She'd been my child care since I could remember, my parents both worked, when they were alive, and I think I spent more time with her than them. After the accident, she was my only family left, and I didn't want to make her mad or unhappy, so I went to Mark's room on campus for our drinking sessions when the weather didn't let us gather on a stretch of deserted road outside of town. Anyway, we were chilling late one Friday night, the five of us taking a break from Dungeons and Dragons to drink and watch some free porn videos from the Internet. The rest of the floor was deserted by guys who had money and girlfriends to party downtown, and the lone Baptist God Jock had retired for the evening: a man capable of sleeping through the Rapture. Randy Jones had set his laptop's video to run through Mark's TV, so we had a good view of all the clips even if though the resolution sucked at times. Plugged into the college's network, we had good upload speed, better than the WiFi places around town. We were hooting and hollering at every scene: Randy enjoyed doggy style fucking, Mark was into handjobs, Barry liked to watch girls giving head, and Bob was into anything strange. My turn on is girls with dimples, other than that, I'll watch almost anything. We took turns surfing the free clip sites, looking for the ones with the longest clips, and used a rule of Three: each guy got to pick 3 clips for us to watch, until everybody got off. No, we didn't jack off in front of each other; anybody who couldn't take anymore ducked into the bathroom to shoot his load in the sink, and after you did that, you didn't get a turn picking clips any longer. If you got off twice, you got to take turns picking again. We quit when we were tired of it; and usually that happened around 4:00AM. It was getting to the end of the evening, we were winding down early, around 12:30 that night. Everybody except Bob had shot a load, so he was getting run of the equipment as long as he could keep from ejaculating. Between the lethal mix of cheap lemonade and Everclear and empty testicles, most of us were hovering at the edge of consciousness. Bob had pulled up videos people getting pranked by flashers on a dirty Russian TV show, which was fun but not too arousing, then switched to Japanese videos of women on the street being asked to reach blindly into a box to find a naked dick, which wasn't anybody else's fantasy. The room hadn't started to spin for me yet, and I hit Bob on the shoulder: "Hey c'mon, dude. Give us something worthwhile before we pass out." "Oh, I remember something you might like, saw it a few days ago. A real cutie, with big boobs and dimples, just up your alley, Jake my boy. Ready for something hot?" "Been ready for two hours now, I even forgot what shot my wad, it's been that long. Let's see." Mark and Barry were dozing on the floor, and Randy was leaning upright in a corner with glazed eyeballs, unresponsive. "Let's see if I can remember where it is." Bob was an amazing drunk, his fingers flew over the keyboard as they always did, and he almost never typed in a bad address. He could also walk across the room to take a piss without staggering after three glasses of our potent punch. "Here we go, you can't see her dimples in this one, but her boobs are amazing." A clip came up with a fat torso, stark white and naked except a grass skirt and flowered lei, with gigantic boobs. Hawaiian music played from the speaker as the dancer swayed and shashayed around a small area in front of an old wooden door. Her hands moved in imitation of Island dancers, gracefully but randomly. We watched this and my manhood stirred slightly in recovery. "Not bad, Bob. Good for this hour of drinking." "Got another one of her. Same site. Look." This time the bulbous, bright torso wore a long, black, feathered boa, her fingernails were painted bright red and occasionally bright red pair of lips came into view. She moved to the Maple Leaf Rag, half as slow as the music, twirling the boa around her tits provocatively and making her boobs sway arhythmically back and forth until they almost made my head spin. My dick was already straining my pants, and I couldn't take my eyes off her big, dark brown nipples. Her ass was huge as well, with several creases and folds as it wiggled temptation, before disappearing, to be replaced by the mistimed mammary gyrations. "I think I know one more, but it's not a dance," Bob said. "She does something REALLY kinky in this one. Like your favorite aunt does self abuse." I smiled. "Don't know about you, dude, but I could get there soon. Go for it." "Done." The next clip began in a bedroom, with a tray table and office chair next to a huge, unmade queen sized bed. The woman was completely naked on the chair and lowered it slightly as the clip started. It looked familiar and my erection faded slightly. A moment caught her whole face; it was a chubby face with bifocals, and long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. A face I'd known all my life: Auntie Jayne. The tray table was covered with wax paper and two huge candles were burning on it. On the bed was a gas lighter and a bottle. In a sing song voice, my aunt started talking: "Hello there. Good to see you. Today I'm going to do some waxing of my boobs for you, don't that sound like fun? First, we'll lotion them up so they have a smooth surface for the wax." She squirted some lotion into her hand and rubbed it into her left breast, before taking another dollop and working it into her right tit. "Now we're all lotioned up and our table is covered, let's get started. How about the green one? Wouldn't you like to see the green? Let me get ready." She put her mammoth left tit on the table and held the candle above it, tilting it over until a stream of wax dribbled out. The candle moved around to create a pattern before the melted liquid gave out. "Isn't that pretty? It's green. Look, it's even run down here. That's why we have the wax paper, so we don't get our table messy." A strand had flowed down to kiss the edge of her areola. She moved the candle up again, but after looking at it, shook her head and put it down. "We need to let this make some more wax. Let's do the purple next. Won't purple be nice?" Taking the candle, she hefted it and dribbled a generous dollop on her massive flesh, mixing with the green wax and trailing off on its own. She took care to dribble every last drop from the candle, making a row of dark dots. "Oh, this is really nice. All that heat feels really good, and the smell is wonderful. See how pretty this is?" She picked her tit up and looked underneath. "The nipple's hard, I guess it likes it. Let's do the other one." As she lifted her right boob on the table, Bob ran off to the bathroom. I took a big pull from my glass of punch, and shook my head. Her voice was the same tone and emotion as when she told me bedtime stories, or showed me how to paint her back fence. Picking up the green candle, she poured it out, letting out a loud "Woo-hoo" as she did it. "My, that's stingy. Guess I got the candle too close to my breast. See how nice this looks? Woo!" She fanned her breast a moment before picking up the other candle. "Let's keep the other one a little farther away so it doesn't sting." Another stream kissed her white flesh, moving around to make a contrapuntal pattern to the first one, and she cooed and licked her lips as she worked. "That's a nice pattern, isn't it? My boobies are just tingling like crazy with all the pain and the heat." Taking her hands, she made her flesh quiver, a huge smile on her face. "Do you like it when they wiggle like that? Isn't that fun?" A cat wandered onto the bed, casually interested in the action as cats usually are. It made the identification final: that was Mr. Whiskers, Auntie Jayne's cat, and there was no other cat on earth like it with a missing ear, mottled fur and patches of exposed skin. When she didn't pay any attention to the feline, Mr. Whiskers promenaded indifferently across the bed and off the near end as if it were his intention all the time. Bob gave a long, low groan from the bathroom. My own pecker was stretching my shorts and I felt very strange. I was getting hard from seeing my dear Auntie torture herself naked on camera. She continued to play with her tits before taking out a digital camera and taking several shots of her artwork. "Now we see why the lotion is such a good idea." She began to slide the wax off her skin, moving easily onto the covered table. "The wax comes right off. Oh, there's some stuck underneath. Guess that's what I get for having such big ones. My, this piece's a big one, isn't that nice?" A few seconds later, her monster mammaries were clear. "See, no more wax, no more stingy. All better. I think they had a good time; see, the nipples are nice and hard. Maybe I should kiss them and make them better." Holding and caressing her boobs, she kissed the tops of them then held the erect nipples up for a sensual lick. Bob got back and sat down to watch the show. "Back to normal once again. Unless you'd like me to put some more wax on them. Would you like that?" The clip stopped and I could take it no longer. I went to the bathroom and whipped out my long cock, the image of my Auntie Jayne pouring wax on her breasts running through my imagination, and it was only two or three strokes before I shot a huge load in Mark's sink. My balls pulsed as the semen pushed its way through and I thought it wasn't going to stop. It took a long time, with the room starting to waver a bit, before I squeezed out the last drop of joy juice from my equipment. After taking a deep breath, I put my pecker back in my pants, went back into the main room and watched as Bob searched for more clips. "You done, man?" he asked. "Yeah. That last set did it for me. You, too?" He nodded. "That fat old girl is one of my favorites. Her name's Melissa LeTour, lives here in Columbia." "What?" "Yeah. Sends pictures to Prof Larsen all the times, and he puts them in the exhibit hall over in the Visual Arts museum. Does lots of colors and combinations of wax on different parts of her body except her face. Prof Larsen eats it up, says she's the greatest artist since Jackson Pollock." I shook my head again. Damn, I thought, I set her up with all that equipment: the video recorder, the digital camera, the computer and the Internet setup. What else don't I know about her? "Does he know her?" "I think they only met once in person. He set the dances up on continual play for the last temporary exhibit. Says he sells the original files for a pretty good price." "What, he takes her money?" "Dunno." I stood up and wobbled a bit. All these revelations were too much for me. "Gotta go." "Huh? Don't you gotta sleep first? There's a corner over there." "Nah, I'm good." "Show me." I held my hand still in front of my face for several moments before Bob nodded his head. "Good. All right. Next Friday, D and D? Here?" "Yeah. 'Night." " 'Night." I managed to make it down the hallways and stairs outside, and walked the mile back to my house west of the University of Missouri campus. It's a two story, A frame house and my Auntie Jayne's next door is a huge old place with a wrap around porch. Looking at my watch, it was only 1:00AM when I staggered through the front gate, yet there was still a soft yellow light in Auntie Jayne's bedroom. She said she suffered from insomnia, but I knew she would be up until she heard me returning. It had been like that for five years, since the accident took my folks. I'd tried to stay at her house, but after becoming an orphan I needed the bed room I'd always known, so she let me stay alone next door with conditions. After getting to my bedroom, I turned on my laptop and found the clips Bob played for us. A couple of times I watched her slow motion hula, three times I followed her wiggling boa, but the clip I played over and over again was her breast waxing. The sing song voice that reassured me through a marathon of childhood scrapes and burns, told the family stories stretching back to the Civil War and the Old Country, chastised me when I strained at my leash in high school, freaked me out when talking about her gleeful celebration of self punishment. My pecker got hard again, but my balls were too empty for another climax, so it was a while before I shut the computer down and fell into a semi-intoxicated sleep. It was daylight when I woke up, 11:00AM by the clock, and I heard her puttering around in the garden. Looking out, I saw her in her favorite gingham dress, striped apron, sensible shoes and straw hat as she tended her roses and her hedges. I know she saw me, giving me a casual glance without pausing in her labors. Auntie Jayne had been very tolerant of me after I graduated from High School; I had an 11:00PM curfew then, but after starting College she allowed me to set my own hours without boundaries. "It's time you learned how to be an adult, and the only way is to do it. You pay the consequences of your actions, if you stay out too late and get too messed up, what happens the next day is your responsibility. If you need a ride home, I'll call you a cab, don't worry about that, no questions asked." I only partied on Friday nights, staying at home or coming in early on Saturdays so I could go to the First Baptist Church with her Sunday mornings. I knew she knew I would be hungover most Saturdays, and she respected my space by not calling until evening. Throwing on a few clothes, I left in spite of my splitting brain when I saw her go in for lunch and went to the Visual Arts library on campus. There were several interesting exhibits, but I bypassed them all until I found what I was looking for. A small room, 10 by 12 feet, was dedicated to her work. It was amazing, the variety of colors and patterns of wax on naked flesh. Many pictures were wax drippings on unidentifiable parts of the body, there were a couple of sets of hands dipped in wax in glass cases, but half of them were clearly patterns on titflesh. They were usually small spatterings of wax spread out, a few were medium sized pools, and one were it seemed most of the breast had been covered by large sheets of color. When in view, the nipples were always erect. There were a couple where the wax had landed in her crotch. Nowhere was her face in her pictures. I didn't stay there long. After walking back home, I slipped into bed and watched baseball as the sun traversed my living room wall. My head stopped throbbing late that afternoon, and Auntie Jayne had me pick up a plate from her kitchen for supper, which I took with minimal comment. She lifted an eyebrow, but didn't push the matter. I walked down the street with her Sunday morning with my arm on her elbow. She didn't need the support, but it was proper in her eyes I escorted her there in an appropriate manner, so I was cleaned up in my suit and tie as usual. The routine of arriving, making small talk with her middle aged friends and users, settling in the usual pew and moving through the service was boring, but I couldn't help sneaking peaks at her. She wore a green striped dress with a black hat and pearl necklace, and short black pumps. Her nails were the same red as the videos, and I kept imagining her at her bedside as I hear her voice singing and making the responses during the service. It took all my concentration to keep focus and not sport an embarrassing erection, at times I even had to try to listen to the mind numbing sermon to keep my mind occupied and my dick soft. It was a communion Sunday: I passed the plate without taking anything while so took a cracker and a shot glass of grape juice. My mind just couldn't process that. There was a potluck after church that day, and I chatted with the proper church girls my age to let Auntie Jayne have room to conspire with her friends in the corner. I felt like a fish next to a boat dock, with the lures dangling in front of me, but my recent obsession with Auntie Jayne's videos kept me immune from taking the bait. Feeling properly stuffed with good food and unspiked lemonade, we walked back home, my hand at her elbow in the mid afternoon, watching the wispy clouds wander across the sky. On entering her yard, I trembled a little as we crossed to the door and she unlocked it. "Come in a minute, Jakie," she said in a pleasant yet firm voice. "Why, Auntie Jayne?" "There's something up with you we need to talk about." I took a seat on an old, stuffed chair in the front sitting room, and after giving me a strange look, she settled into a couch across the way. She looked deep into my eyes, concern on her face, before unbuttoning her top button and sighing. "All right, Jake Edward Fields. I've known you all your life and something's bothering you. Has been all morning at least, maybe for a while. Out with it." "I don't want to say, Auntie." "You've been looking at me in a strange way. Looking at my fingernails, looking at my blouse. I remember when you first got interested in girls, and you tried to sneak peeks at my breasts every chance you got. You're too old for that now, and you're at college where you've got a lot of young girls to look at. Since there's such a thing as the Internet now, I imagine you have a chance to see whatever you want to see whenever you want." I must have reacted, because she caught it. "Oh, that's it, you saw something on the Internet. What did you see?" Taking a deep breath and exhaling it, I said as calmly as I could. "You." "Oh." "Yes. Friday night at the dorm. We were looking at some clips of different stuff, and there's this really weird guy there. . ." "Bob Hemmings." "Yeah, Bob. How did you know?" "He wrote me. Many times. I've blocked him. Go ahead." "How did you block him? Does he know your email address?" "Goodness no, Jakie. I don't use my real address for that." She fanned herself a little and continued. "So he pulled up some clips on the Internet." "Yeah. First a headless hula clip, then a feather boa dance to the Maple Leaf Rag. And then, then. . ." She leaned forward, concerned. "Yes?" "Then a clip where you waxed your breasts. You seemed to enjoy it." She looked away out the window and breathed heavily. "I recognized your bedroom, Mr. Whiskers walked through the shot. You covered your breasts in lotion, then dribbled some wax on them. I saw you take pictures of them; Bob said you sold them to Prof Larsen at the College, so I went to the Visual Arts library and saw them." There was a long pause, and then she asked. "What do you think of them?" "They're beautiful. Inspiring. Compelling. Beautiful. Sexy." Her eyebrow lifted. "Is Prof Larsen taking advantage of you?" She started out of her reverie, and looked at me. "Taking advantage of me? How?" "Bob said Prof Larsen was selling your pictures for a lot of money." A short laugh came from her throat. "No, Bill Larsen is my agent. The pictures are copyrighted, and he gets a percentage. Also gives me a fee for the exhibit. A nice little bit of cash for an old lady." "But Auntie Jayne, what's going on here? Is there something I don't know?" "Well, Jake, I didn't want to share this little story with you, but now I can't avoid it. I was the caretaker of your grandparents here all my life, it was common for one child to stay home in those days to do that, particularly the youngest of the family like me. Remember when they lived here?" Weird Auntie Jayne Ch. 01 "Yeah, I was pretty little. Grandpa took me fishing a coupla times. Grandma was always baking." "Yes, you remember them well; you were five when they passed away. Had suitors, but nobody was ever really interested me, and they all wanted to leave town anyway. I knew what my purpose in life was and nothing was going to take me away from it. By the time I was free, I was pretty set in my ways, and all the men my age are losers. Why should I take someone else's greasy leftovers? My brother died in Korea, and my sister got her education and settled next door to teach and raise her family." "Me?" "You. You're the little boy I never had, and I've always been glad you've been next door. Then when your parents died in that car accident during the blizzard, we worked out our little arrangement. So far so good." "But what about. . ." "What about the wax? I've always liked candles, as you can see from this room. This collection you see is the product of many years work, and yes, I use them for play sometimes. One night when I was teenager during a storm, I was walking around the house by candlelight, a breeze flung a window open, and a huge blob of wax went inside my nightgown and hit my breast. To my surprise I liked it, and after that I experimented to find my likes and limits." I shook my head. She looked at me calmly, through the bifocals I'd seen on the video, her hands on her lap with the bright red polish I'd seen on the video. Her eyes were seeking more from me, and I couldn't say anything. "There's more, what is it? You don't have to say anything, I'll figure it out, I can always read you. You're embarrassed, ashamed of me. No, I don't think so, that doesn't explain the furtive glances. Curious, yes, wondering if there's outward signs you may have missed. Maybe, but wouldn't explain the depth of feeling. Your pervert friend was turned on, yes, I enjoy doing that, it's why I did the videos. If I were slim and lovely, I'd be a nude model, even a stripper. Heck, I'd even have a trail of broken hearts stretching out to the horizon behind me. Hmm. Oh, I've got it, it turned YOU on. YOU got excited by me dripping candle wax on my tits. Aha! Aha! You're blushing, it's got to be the answer. You never could hide anything from me." She peered through the top of her glasses, lifting her head slightly. "I see a little bulge in your pants." She got up and went to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of iced tea. I took one gratefully and drank half of it in one gulp. Returning to the couch, she let Mr. Whiskers leap onto her lap and stroked him as she looked at me. "You set me up with all this advanced electronics, so maybe you're blaming yourself. Don't. If you hadn't done it, I would have found a way sooner or later. I have friends who know about technology. You'd be surprised at what some of the folks down at the First Baptist church are into, even those sweet little girls you were talking to earlier. Don't feel like it's your fault, me being who I am. Took me fifty one years to get here and I'm happy with myself. And don't feel ashamed of what you feel. You're a man now, even if you're only nineteen." She took a sip from her glass, never taking her eyes off me. "You're still curious, still interested. You'd like to see if I'll do it again, see how it would affect you, see if it'd turn you on. Jake, I'm curious, too. But first I need a little nap after all that food. Why don't you come back over around five? We'll try a few things, see what happens. How does that sound?" I still couldn't speak, my tongue was stuck and my body wouldn't respond. Auntie Jayne nodded. "I can tell you'd like that, even though you can't tell me. You always got tongue tied when you were overexcited. Go home and watch a baseball game, play on the computer or something. Don't play with yourself, you may live to regret that. Later, Jake." She got up from the couch, and went upstairs, leaving me to my thoughts. After a moment, I got up and went back to my house, turning on the television and finding a baseball game. It was all I could do the change out of my church clothes and put on something else, my cock begged for attention but I knew I had to leave it alone. Didn't know what would happen, but the uncertainty was exciting. (To be continued) Weird Auntie Jayne Ch. 02 It was five when I went back over to Auntie Jayne's house. The weather held through the afternoon, and in a couple of hours it would be sundown. I'd changed from my suit and tie into my sweats after getting home. In spite of my excitement, I'd drifted off for a while and awakened like a kid very early on a dark Christmas morning, not knowing what time it was or whether Santa had made his round yet. I check my e-mail and reviewed my assignments: I only had one class on Monday and it was a review day before a test. I never knocked before going into Auntie Jayne's house, it was a habit from my first memory. She told me I could always come and go as I pleased and even gave me a key to her house before my mother gave me one for mine. Her door was locked, and I made sure to relock it after me. The old neighborhood wasn't a high crime area, but it always paid to be safe. Her voice came down the stairway. "I'm upstairs, Jakie. Don't let Mr. Whiskers out of the basement." A soft mewing came from the basement door, right on cue, but Mr. Whiskers had never been my particular friend, so ignoring him was no problem. I forced myself to walk upstairs rather than run, to calm my nerves. "Come on to the back bedroom. I'm ready for you." The door was open, and I could tell it was lit by a myriad of candles. The shades were pulled to highlight the artificial light, and a couple of large mirrors reflected the light around the room. Auntie Jayne sat on the bed in her favorite pink robe, barefoot, with her hair tied back in a ponytail, her face creased in a broad grin. "Didn't get that nap this afternoon after all. Did you?" I nodded my head and she giggled. "Well, you may need it. I'm so excited, I've never had anyone to share this with. Are you ready?" I nodded again. "Then let's get going. Maybe you'd like to lotion up my boobs." I picked up the squirt bottle and she opened her robe. Her massive tits fell free, shining in the light. Putting some lotion in my hand, I rubbed it all over her floppy udder, making sure to work it in carefully before pumping more to cover the other one. Auntie Jayne's head rolled around and her mouth opened as I touched her, her tongue slipping out to moisten her lips. After I finished, she opened her eyes and pulled up a tray table she'd covered with wax paper. "Usually there's a limit to how many candles I can have in easy reach, but now you're here, we can keep going a lot longer. You ready?" "Yes." "Good. Take any candle you want and hold it about a foot above the skin. That'll feel nice and warm without being too stingy." "Is it a little stingy anyway?" "Yes. But a little stingy is good, I like a little stingy." I took a thick candle and saw a nice little pool of wax waiting for me. Her mouth opened as I tilted it, and she sighed as the first white drops hit her skin. I made a spiral pattern, and enlarged it with the second candle. Then I took a darker candle and made some vertical lines of dots from the white patterns and up toward her chest. "That's lovely, Jake. Take a picture of that." Her digital camera was on the dresser, and it took a moment to snap a few shots from different angles. "This is why it's good you're here. You can get some angles I can't. Do another pattern on my left boob." Taking a green candle, I created a series of big blobs on her skin that I juxtaposed with horizontal white trails. She puffed and let out a "Woo!" as I worked. "That's a bit stingy, but I can take it. I'm getting more tingly that I've been in a long time. Keep it up, Jake. After you take a picture of the new pattern and the two together, just keep going until I tell you to stop." The pictures were duly taken, and I turned back to white candles. I made sure to hold them higher as I worked, but made sure the wax from the new ones ran down over her nipples. She clenched her hands a bit and bit her lower lip softly, but nodded her head when I paused. I continued until I noticed some smaller candles by the window that were almost extinguished from hot wax. "It would be a shame to waste these, Auntie Jayne." "Yes Jake, it would. Glad you noticed them. Don't waste them." Until now, I'd been dribbling a strategically placed stream, but taking the smaller ones, I tossed each one of their entire contents on her at once, drawing a big gasp and loud woo-hoo with every impact. When I'd done the half dozen from the window sill, I asked her: "How are you doing, Auntie?" "It's wonderful, everything I'd hoped it would be. My breasts are tingling so much, and so is my lower region. Touch them, play with them, jiggle them, I'd love to feel your hands on my tits." I ran my fingertips on the exposed flesh from her armpits down to the uncovered part of her nipples, taking care to pinch the buds softly. "More, more. Harder." I twisted them gently and she sighed and nodded; I pinched them harder and she gasped in delight. I added more wax, overlapping previous work, until her massive jugs were encased in wax. Her eyes were closed and she licked her lips, her hand reached out and she put it on my left hip. "Take some pictures, I haven't been this covered for a long time. Bill Larsen will love this." After taking the pictures from many angles, I looked at her sitting there from head on, her head thrown back with wax reaching from her chest all the way down to her nubbins in a rainbow of colors. I realized the artist she was, the only colors she had available were colors of the rainbow and they all worked together, so the combination on her flesh was harmonious in spite of the random order. She opened her eyes and looked at me dreamily, with a glow in her eyes I'd never seen before. "Jake, if only I'd know you 'd do this. . ." "I'm glad you're happy, Auntie Jayne." "Oh, I'm in heaven, dear boy, in heaven. My breasts are almost quivering by themselves. Do you mind if I finger myself?" I nodded solemnly. She smiled and continued. "Do you want to beat off? I see you're pretty stiff. Maybe you want me to touch your dick." "That's all right. I'll come closer." I stood by her and her hand reached into my sweats to pull out my manhood. Her hand was so soft and she traced the contours of my staff so skillfully, I started trembling immediately. "Where do you want to squirt your load? On my hands? On my breasts? On my face? On my tongue?" I couldn't speak again, but moved my hips closer to her face. "All right, put it right on Auntie's face. I'll open my mouth and try your joy juice. It's all right. Give it to me." Her tongue snaked out to tease my cockhead, and I almost collapsed. She pulled me close and swallowed my entire dick at once, moving in and out quickly while stroking it vigorously. "I want you in my mouth. Give it to me. Give it to Auntie." It didn't take ten seconds before my balls pulsed and I shot several times; she held me in her mouth with a death grip, squeezing my nuts, accepting all I had to give. Opening her mouth, she showed me creamy whiteness on her tongue before closing in and swallowing it down. "And to think this mouth took communion earlier today. That's OK, it's not forbidden by the Bible. You just can't fuck me, but we can suck and finger each other as much as we wish." She smiled and a wet, white stream dribbled down from the side of her mouth. I sat on the bed for a moment and watched as she brushed the wax off her jugs. From time to time, she shot me a conspiratorial glance from the corner of her eye, a slight smirk on her lips. Her skin was a very light pink once it was clear, and she held her breasts up to me: "All clear, all nice, no more stingy. There's a little ice bucket under the bed. Would you like to rub an ice cube over my poor boobs?" Sure enough, there was a covered ice bucket under the bed, and Auntie Jayne purred as I rubbed an ice cube over her red skin and over her rock hard nipples. Spreading her legs, she said: "You can even rub it down here, I like that." Trailing the ice cube over her stomach, I moved it down her thighs out toward her knee before moving in to the intersection. As it got smaller, she sighed and said: "Rub it on the lips down there, rub the clit. Push it in if you can." She twitched as I reached my goal, quivering as I traced her lips and circled the bud and shuddering as I forced it inside. Taking another one, I went directly for her slit and she nodded her head as I rubbed it around again and forced a bigger piece through. "More, more. Keep your fingers in there, I'll tell you when it's too much." I massaged her breasts and milked her teats a little before getting another piece of ice and working it in. Keeping my fingers stiff, I followed the ice sliver in with two of them, moving in and out and adding one more finger at a time. "Hot and cold, I love it. More." All fingers were in, so I curled them up and added my thumb, slipping my hand in up to my wrist. The sensations of hot and cold inside her were amazing. She leaned back and bucked against my fist, I began to piston it in and out until she gasped and writhed until she almost fell off her chair. Keeping everything in position, I moved her onto the bed, on her back, moving around so I could keep my hand inside her, and once we were stable gave her a huge orgasm complete with screaming. Letting her lie there until she recovered, I took a piece of ice and cooled her breasts some more. After her eyes focused again, she kissed the hand which had been inside her and smiled at me in a way I'd never seen before. "Hello, lover. Little did I know. How was it for you?" My head went down, but she looked between my legs, pointed and giggled. "Looks like he's coming back for another round. Any ideas, anything more you'd like to do to me?" "I don't know. Is there anything you'd like to try?" She thought for a minute. "Don't get into spanking. I used to trace a brush over my tits after a wax session and that felt nice. There's a brush on the dresser, Jake, get it for me." Like a good boy, I fetched it, and started tracing the soft bristles on her skin. She purred a little, and purred a little more when I lifted her huge mams up and worked the undersides. Then I went down and brushed her pubic hair a while, which gave her a huge grin. It had a long handle, and after stroking her hair and teasing her private parts with the bristles I stuck the handle in her cunt. "I've got an idea." "What?" "I've got some brushes in the garage. If I brace them, they'll stand up on their own. When you can sit up again, we can put them under your tits while we do the candles and ice on the top. It'll be something to try next time." "Oh, goodie, we're going to do this again?" I reached over and kissed her on the lips for the first time since I was little. She kissed back fervently, slipping me some tongue and reaching down for my cock with her hand. I lay beside her and fingered her cunt again, and we lay next to each other, our lips locked in an open embrace that allowed our tongues to slide back and forth against each other. A familiar tingle started in my balls and I flipped around so she could take my dick in her mouth, reaching to put my tongue on her clitoris. The magic she worked almost made me lose my focus completely, but I reached down for another piece of ice, which I sucked on for a minute before attacking her genitals with my cold tongue and mouth. She shrieked with her mouth full of my cock, which was thrilling in itself, and before long I was sending another load into her hungry suck as she shrieked in orgasm again with her mouth full. The next couple of days were a dream; I managed to focus just enough on my classes and paperwork to get by, while I plotted what I would do with Auntie Jayne next. Wednesday was a long day, but Thursday was clear, so we planned another session for the mid week evening. When we crossed paths during the first part of the week, Auntie Jayne acted as if nothing were different, wearing nothing out of the ordinary, but sending me pictures of her candle work I'd seen in the museum. I saved myself, not masturbating or surfing porn, since I knew where my next meal was coming from, so to speak. We decided to meet at my house; she cleaned it for me regularly, and I had some ideas that worked better there. She laid out my favorite supper like she did on my birthday: spinach salad, pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, brussels sprouts, with apple pie and ice cream for dessert. She knew what I like to eat. We chatted about simple things: she forced the conversation away from anything salacious even though she knew I had some preparations made upstairs, patiently awaiting their time. I helped her with the dishes, keeping my distance and ignoring the stray touch below my waist. After dinner, we went into the sitting room and sat on the couch together, watching television for a little while holding hands. At 8:30, she flicked off the TV and looked me in the face. "It's time, lover. What devious ideas do you have for me?" "I thought you'd like a twist on the candle game. The candles are lit upstairs for you." "Oh goodie.." "Ready to go upstairs?" She responded by giving me a long, open mouthed kiss on the lips, which I responded to eagerly with a lot of tongue. We almost didn't make it off the couch. When we got upstairs, I showed her a shower mat that I'd put on wax paper, which rested on the table. The mat was white, and had lots of little plastic points all over. "What's that?" Auntie Jayne asked. "It's a shiatsu shower mat. Supposed to massage your feet. I thought it might massage the undersides of your boobs." "Interesting. Where did ya get it?" "Bed, Bath and Beyond." She sat down and looked at it curiously. "How are we supposed to try this out?" "Just pull your tit out and lay it on the mat gently. If it's too much, we can take it off and forget about it." She looked at me dubiously, but lifted her right breast out of her wrap around dress and gently put it on the points, reluctant to trust the full weight until she felt the effect. "It's like a lot of little points of tingle. Interesting. Okay, it's a nice idea." She put her other massive mammary on the mat and winced a little before settling in. "What's next?" I reached over and began stroking her nipples. She sighed and closed her eyes; I reached forward gently and started licking and sucking them until they were fully erect. I opened the walk in closet door and showed her some potpourri pots on a shelf with little bowls on top of them. "This is paraffin, just like the candles. I thought you might like some larger dollops of wax." She went over and touched the liquid inside; her eyebrows gathered in a wince in anticipation, but she smiled when she felt the temperature. After I was sure she was all right, I turned off the light and we were shrouded in candlelight. She went back and put her boobs back on the bed of nails and looked at me expectantly. "Here's comes the heat, Auntie Jayne." "Yes, my boy. You got the camera ready?" "Of course." "Take a couple before you start, the clean slate, so to speak." I did as she asked, then covered the tops in lotion before I started dribbling candle wax. I kept everything in the tingle range without venturing into the sting range I had on Sunday. Taking a hair brush from the dresser, I opened her dress completely and brushed her pubic hair again, drawing sighs and smiles. Inserting the handle, I continued the waxing until I'd covered them: this time her right breast was a wild panoply of colors in a random design while the left breast was a complex pattern of white textures. I took pictures of my work and she looked at the images with interest. "I think you can work in my studio, Jake. I like what you've done here. My boobs are tingling like crazy again, and so is my clitoris. You wouldn't have the ice bucket nearby." "I thought you were going to get that ready." She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "It's under the sink. Go fill it." I started for the door and turned with a wry smile. "You aren't going anywhere, are you?" "Are you kidding? Where would I go with wax all over my tits?" Bounding down the stairs, I found the bucket quickly and filled it rapidly from the ice maker in the freezer. When I came back up, I found her working the brush handle in and out of her cunt. I stopped and watched; this was something she'd done all those years alone to satisfy her urges. It was interesting to watch her orgasm approach, like a summer storm crossing the plains slowly, inexorably, with distant flashes of lightning at first, then thunder booming through the humid air until the downpour arrived with electric drama, wind and cacophony. Her writhed in her chair, moving her breasts up and down on the spiky bath mat without seeming to notice their little pricks of relentless attention. When she was done, she let me look around for stray wax chips. "We need the wax paper after all. I don't want the mess those drippings will make on my carpet if there's nothing protecting the table." She gently picked her funbags off the mat and held them carefully while I took it away before placing them on the wax paper. "Great sensation, Jake. I loved all those little points. Now to get rid of the wax." As before, the accumulated wax moved easily off her skin and collected on the covering and soon her breasts were lily white again. Holding them gently, she kissed and hugged them. "Oh you've had such a great time tonight. You gave me an orgasm. Now you've got to thank the nice young man who made you feel so good. What should we do for him?" I carefully folded up the paper, taking care not to spill any on the floor, and threw the mess in the waste basket. "I have a few ideas." "So do we. Lay down on the bed." I did, my rock hard erection pointed straight up, and Auntie Jayne beamed as she regarded it. "You're ready for love, aren't you my friend? I thought about using cold, but I've changed my mind. I've got something I know you'll like. Close your eyes, Jake." I put my hands behind my head and closed my eyes. Strangely, I remember when I was a little tyke visiting her and being bathed in the tub. She always took care to wash under my foreskin and make sure my little butt crack was very clean. Was sorry when I got to preschool and she wouldn't wash me anymore. Now I felt a tingling in my thighs, something soft was moving over my skin and tickling my balls. I sneaked a peek: she was using a feather duster on me. The softness moved back and forth on my thighs, coming close to sensitive skin and veering off at the last minute. My cock throbbed and she licked a drop of precum off it. "Don't want to get this messy," she murmured. The delicate touch moved across my testicles, sending jolts of energy up my spine before moving away, being replaced by a soft, relentless tongue. Her hand put the feather duster aside and started stroking my shaft, working its soft magic once again. It didn't take long before I was breathing hard and my hips were bucking, a got a glance of Auntie Jayne's face and she was beaming. This time the geyser erupted in the air, covering her face with sticky white goo. She continued stroking until it was finished, then she licked every drop from my skin, gathering it from her face with her finger and rolling it into her mouth. Auntie Jayne made me part of her production company, and I helped her make a couple of videos, particularly when I handcuffed her hands in front and poured the wax with her breasts on the bed of nails before beating off on her face. I also took some pictures that made it into her Manhattan collection. It took the best poker face I could manage when Bob Hemmings and my buddies found the pictures and videos on the Internet to convince them I had no knowledge of their presence. I had a tougher time convincing my friends I didn't need to take part in the porn watching session when I didn't have a girlfriend on campus. But Auntie Jayne made it up to me, many, many times.