5 comments/ 122665 views/ 15 favorites Kissing Mum's Friend Goodnight Ch. 01 By: nortythorts This is a story of MILD seduction with initial reluctance, and not one of forcing, which I have no wish to condone or encourage, and it should be considered a fantasy story only. As with some of my previous stories, this is in in two parts (partly to prevent a single episode from being too long and also to build up a tease). This may or may not appeal - but I've explained this at the outset, so bear this in mind especially if leaving comments. Thanks for the constructive comments and feedback to previous submissions - they are much appreciated! _______________ Mike really couldn't decide whether it was good or bad that he was in the house alone with her. Sue had been his mother's best friend for longer than he could remember and was staying with them for a while. She was in the process of moving house. The purchase of the house she was buying had hit snags and was now delayed. She had been trying to sell her own house for over a year, with little interest until now. The couple buying it were very keen but were becoming so impatient that they were threatening to pull out of buying it. She had set her heart on the one for which she had made an offer, too. Rather than risk losing both the sale and the purchase, she had considered moving out of her own house and into rented property until she could move into the other one. But Mike's mother had persuaded her to have most of her stuff put into storage and to move in with her until everything was sorted out. There was only her and Mike in the house. Besides, she got on so well with Sue that she was anxious to help her out. Mike had always liked Sue and, as often happened in those days, he had been brought up to call her "auntie". It was thought disrespectful for children to call close friends of parents by their first names, but to call them "Miss" or "Mrs" followed by their surname was far too formal. "Uncle" and "Auntie" were commonly used, therefore, for family friends. So Mike had always thought of her as "Aunt" Sue. She had never married but had had several medium to long term relationships over the years he had known her. She seemed content enough and was usually happy, even jovial. Over the past years and a half, though, Mike had become sexually drawn to her. She was always smartly dressed (though not necessarily flashily or provocatively so). Her dark, wavy hair was always nicely groomed -- in a "big" style, brushed up and away from her head and lacquered -- and she wore a discreet amount of makeup that made the best of her features without making her look cheap. She was short in height and petite in build, five feet three inches tall and a UK dress size 12. Her breasts were a B-cup. He knew. He had seen -- and secretly fondled -- some of her clothes and underwear often enough when she wasn't around. If she noticed him looking at her she didn't let on. Mike wondered in fact whether she secretly enjoyed and encouraged it. Being twenty years old and with a strong sex drive, he was bound to tell himself that this was the case. But even when he made allowance for his wishful thinking it was hard not to wonder. She had always been fairly tactile, and was like that with most people. But Mike was sure that she was now a little more tactile with him than she was with others, or even than she used to be with him. Her hand would linger on his arm slightly longer than it used to. He was sure that she stood an inch or two closer to him than she had previously, and sometimes when they were sharing a joke, even when his mother was in the room, Aunt Sue would make eye contact with him, and maintain it deliberately for a moment or two rather than just fleetingly. It was almost as if she was flirting with him. As well as this, she would leave her clothes on the clothes maiden longer than was really necessary. He couldn't decide whether this was just untidiness or whether there was a more deliberate decision to do so on her part. His mother complained to him behind her friend's back but said nothing to her directly. "And I do wish she would at least put her underwear away. It's not very nice having her bras and knickers hanging up for half a day or more after they've aired off, is it, Mike?" she had commented a few days earlier. "Er.. no, I suppose not, Mum," he had replied non-comittally. The fact was of course that he could not agree less, He thought it was EXTREMELY nice to see her friend's underwear hanging on the clothes maiden. When he could, he admired it, stroked and caressed it, nuzzled it with his lips, imagining Aunt Sue inside it. He loved the appearance of it, and the feel of it. He loved the slight scratchiness of her lace bras and panties, and the softness of her satin ones. He especially liked her white nylon camisole with its shaped bust, and her red, shimmering, nylon nightdress. He would put his hand inside it and kiss and nuzzle it, pretending it was her body underneath rather than his own hand. Again, he couldn't be completely sure but he had a strong suspicion that Aunt Sue flaunted herself slightly when his mother was not around. And "around" could mean both when his mother was when she was in bed or in another room, as well as when she was out at work. She was a nurse and her shifts varied considerably. He was almost convinced that his mother's friend was deliberately teasing him. There had been one occasion when a pair of stockings had appeared on the clothes maiden. They were sheer, and a matching bra and suspender belt were hanging next to them. He had touched and stroked them and in the bathroom had brought himself off to the thought of her in them. They appeared after his mother had gone to work and disappeared just half an hour before she returned. Quite often when his mum was at work or in bed he would spot an extra button on Aunt Sue's blouse open that had been fastened before his mother left the house, or before she went to bed. One day when she was unloading the washing machine she seemed to bend quite low, then, when his mother came into the kitchen, she squatted upright on her haunches instead. He was annoyed. He had seen inside Sue's top almost to her nipples before his mother's arrival caused her to shift position. And although "Aunt" Sue usually did not change into her nightclothes until she went upstairs to bed, there were times when she changed into her silk dressing robe mid evening and sat around in it until bedtime. This had especially caught his attention. In the two weeks that Aunt Sue had been staying with them she had never done this when his mother had been at home, yet she had done it three times when she hadn't been. Tonight was the fourth. He asked himself whether this could really be just coincidence. It seemed unlikely. _______________ These were the reasons he could not decide whether it was good or bad that he was in the house alone with her tonight. His mother was at work on a night shift and would not return until early the next morning. It didn't help that Aunt Sue had opted to watch a movie on DVD that contained a few erotic scenes, though granted they were steamy rather than pornographic. Nor that they had drunk a couple of glasses of wine each, either. Granted, on two glasses of wine neither of them was exactly inebriated. But the cosiness of being in the room alone together, along with the wine, along with her wearing her dressing robe, and the three non-explicit but nevertheless raunchy sex scenes made the situation feel very erotic. To him, anyway. There is of course an unwritten, almost innate protocol when watching something risqué with other people. A bunch of mates watch it and make lewd comments about it, either out of embarrassment or crudity. Partners often do the same, at least if they have the same tolerance of it. Otherwise, at least in Britain, there is The Protocol. If watching a steamy scene with parents -- or, for that matter, with the best friend of your mother -- two things need to be done. Firstly, each person wonders whether somebody else will decide to switch off the television or DVD. If nobody does, then everyone must continue watching -- to say or do any other would be to draw attention to IT, to the three-letter word that ends in a letter x. But this watching must be done in the right manner. It must be done casually, to give the impression of not really watching, of pretending to look away, having to endure the scene until the plot proper resumes. Perhaps one person or the other makes a totally unrelated and mundane statement to lend to this atmosphere. But despite the pretence the scene brings arousal, perhaps especially because of the embarrassment and the need to pretend otherwise.. Tonight, though, The Protocol had been broken. When each of the steamy scenes came on, Aunt Sue gave a low chuckle. The first time she looked at him knowingly and made a little wincing expression. The second time she chuckled again and said breezily, "Oh, here we go again!" Her face was attractive, her dark eyelashes and eyeliner adding to her appeal and to her saucy facial expression. But although it was her own DVD that she had watched previously, and although the remote was on the coffee table next to her she made no attempt to skip it or fast-forward it. And instead of avoiding eye contact, as per the Unwritten Protocol, she caught his eye. Repeatedly. And pulled an expression as if feigning shock. Several times. And he did the same. Perhaps it was partly the effect of the wine or perhaps it was his own wishful thinking, but he felt a sexual tension building between them both. Repeatedly as they watched the movie he glanced across at her. Her purple, floral print robe hugged her B-cup breasts. Her slender legs were bent at the knee and resting tucked up on the sofa to one side of her. A couple of times she noticed his glance but simply smiled. The next few times he looked, she seemed to be baring a little more flesh; the first time, her neckline was gaping a bit further open than before, the second time the hem of her robe was a bit higher and he could see her lower thighs. They were pale, slender and inviting. Under the silk of her robe her breasts rose and fell deliciously, and the top of her cleft was visible at the wrapped-over neckline. The fabric lay in sensual folds and creases over her petite frame, and it caught the light deliciously. Her robe had parted at the knees and although he could not see much upper thigh, he could see enough to be very aroused, and the slight V-shape of its opening seemed to draw his eye to the very top. He willed it -- unsuccessfully, of course - to part still further. Her legs were slender. And bare. Her slender fingers caressed the wineglass in her hand. He was sure it was due to his oversexed state of mind, but the movement seemed very sensual. On and off throughout the movie a terrible idea came to his head that he could not entirely dismiss. It had come to him before. But now it started to grow. With a vengeance. And to seem less crazy than it had done previously. It shocked him at first. After all, she was his mother's best friend and he had known her as long as he could remember. The fact that he called her aunt made it seem even more taboo. But -- and though he wished he could blame the wine he knew really that his feelings had little to do with alcohol. The reality was that his feelings had been building up for some time. The alcohol was really nothing to do with it. He had been acutely aware of her nearness. Over the last fortnight he had often thought of her dressing and undressing, just the other side of his bedroom wall -- just a yard or two from him. The same thoughts came to him when he heard her showering in the bathroom -- there was his mother's friend, almost his aunt, stark naked in the shower, rubbing the gel all over her firm breasts, over her belly, her bum cheeks. He thought of the water running down her skin, tangling in her pubes, then streaking on down her thighs and legs. And, nagging away at the back of his mind was the certainty that, whatever her intentions, she had been feeding his attraction to her -- and his desire for her. Again and again he glanced at the sensual rise and fall of her breasts under the floral-print silk. Her orbs were not that big, but they still looked fairly firm, despite the obvious absence of a bra under her robe. He could just see the outlines of her nipples through the soft-looking silk. He tried to resist the dreadful but appealing urge that was looming ever larger. He was hot for her and he longed to know whether the feeling was mutual. His stomach was churning as, still torn in his mind, the movie ended and the closing credits began to roll. He took a deep breath. The moment had come. A better one or even one as good might not arise again. The circumstance might not be right. Or his confidence might not be strong enough. The risk was huge, of course. There was no way of knowing how she would react, or what his mother would say or do if her friend told her. But there was only one way to find out how Aunt Sue would react. He took a deep breath, and stood up. "Well, Aunt Sue, I think I'll go up now. Goodnight." "Goodnight then, Mike." The blood was pumping in his ears. "Shall... shall I give you a goodnight kiss like I used to, Auntie?" She gave a little chuckle as she remembered the many times in the past when he had given her a little peck on the cheek. It was a strange request at his age, but it seemed innocent enough. She felt a bit guilty about having flirted with him, giving him teasing little glimpses of herself and of her underwear, but it was all harmless enough. They were both adults and surely quite able to flirt and tease without it hurting or leading anywhere. Besides, she had genuinely and secretly enjoyed his attention, the attention of a young man young enough to be her son (though she had no children). A kiss on the cheek would be... well, it would mean rather more than it used to, but would nevertheless do no harm, surely! "Okay then, Mike," she said, giving him a look that was part-knowing and part-curious. He got up and walked to the sofa. Despite himself he could not resist glancing again at her modest, pert looking breasts above and through the shimmering silk of her dressing robe. She was still smiling at him. As he approached, she turned her cheek to him. "Night-night then, Mike." Her voice sounded soft, almost seductive to him. "Close your eyes like you used to, Aunt Sue," he said, hoping his voice did not sound too strained. She laughed quietly and closed her eyes. She raised her face and turned her cheek towards him. He glanced at her sexy lips, and at her high cheekbones. He stared at the way her breasts went up and down with her breathing, filling her robe and leaving a little gap again to show a bit of skin. A bit of bare tit-flesh. He could not be sure, but her thought she was breathing a bit quicker and more shallowly than before. However unlikely, the possibility that she might be becoming excited thrilled him. He looked at her innocent expression, and at her closed eyes. He looked at the smooth skin of her cheek, proffered to him to kiss as he had done so many times when younger. But he had no intention of kissing her on the cheek tonight. He hesitated for a moment. There was still a moment left in which he could change his mind, still time to avoid doing the crazy thing that he was almost decided upon. It would be the respectful thing to do, better to avoid such bad thoughts about his mother's best friend. It would be safer by far, too. There was no way of knowing how she would react -- or, for that matter, how his mother would react if she found out. Surely it would be better to be sensible... But, as quietly as he could, he stooped low and kissed the bare top of her breast above her neckline, and brushed his mouth over her full orb through her satin robe. It yielded a little, gorgeously, under his mouth. She immediately pushed him away hard, so hard in fact that he almost lost his balance. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Mike? You... you sodding pervert!" Her eyes were glaring and her nostrils flared. She was visibly shocked and was shaking a bit. He gave a nervous laugh, though he hoped it sounded less nervous than he felt. "I was giving you a goodnight kiss, Aunt Sue! I... I never said WHERE I was going to kiss you!" He stood looking at her, his mind full of doubt. This was the moment of truth. Would she acquiesce, or go crazy at him and tell his mother? The stupidity and horror of what he had done hit him in the stomach. With a mixture of excitement and horror he realised that he was entirely at her mercy. For a few brief moments silence ensued. Sue's mind was in overdrive. Her head was spinning. She was truly shocked by his behaviour. And yet... It was true that she had flirted with him during her stay, even teased him. She had been gratified by the sight of an erection in his trousers; doubly gratified to know that she had produced it. She loved the way he looked at her, the way he was turned on by her and by her actions. She knew that he had touched some of her clothes on the clothes maiden, as she had placed them very carefully so that she would know if he had. And he had. The knowledge made her very aroused. She was shocked to be feeling this way about him. He had always been almost like a nephew to her. But now he was a hot-blooded man. He was, moreover, hot-blooded for her. She felt suddenly flushed and light-headed. But, hell, he had shocked her, and what he had done had been so blatantly sexual and unsubtle. It wasn't as if he had casually brushed against her or even kissed her on the mouth. She was angry. And scared. "Bloody hell, Mike! What would your mother think -- what WILL she think if I tell her?" "She... she'll go crazy." "Yes. Would you damn well blame her?" She knew her voice was shaking with anger. "No. I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me, Aunt Sue," he stuttured. "And what about me? How do you think I feel?" she persisted. "I don't know, Aunt Sue." His reply took her aback -- and stirred her. She had expected him to grovel, and was even afraid that he might try to force himself on her. But his reply had been more of a sullen challenge, a questioning of her feelings for him. And, though she hardly dared admit it, even to herself, the challenge was not entirely unfounded. She was unsure what to say or do next. Mike found waiting for her next move agonising. And although there was no way he would take things any further against her wishes, he was also determined to stand his ground and not to be pathetic. "Well, I'll damn well tell you how I bloody feel, Mike!" She tried to sound as angry and indignant as she could. "I'll tell you how I bloody well feel, Mike..." Her voice was softer now. "I'm shocked by your behaviour. I admit I have been... teasing you, flirting with you. But I wasn't intending it to lead anywhere. I didn't expect THAT from my best friend's son!" She looked at the bulge in his trousers. She saw it move. It looked obscene, yet arousing. Despite herself she felt a slight stirring of desire. "I... I'm going up to bed now, Mike. I think you need to bloody well think about what you have done and the way you have been thinking about me. And I need to think. I... I mean about whether to tell your mother. Good ni-" She suddenly stopped herself. The expression now had new overtones for both of them. She turned and left the room, making a show of stamping out and slamming the door loudly behind her. She closed the door behind her and went up the stairs. She went to the bathroom and had a quick shower. Then she went to her own room. He hung his head as she stormed off out of the room, not even looking at the body he had been admiring so avidly. Kissing Mum's Friend Goodnight Ch. 01 TO BE CONTINUED... Kissing Mum's Friend Goodnight Ch. 02 All characters are over the age of 18 ____________________ Sue got into bed and started to shake with anger and shock. The more she thought about it the more outrageous his behaviour appeared. Her heart was beating fast. But other thoughts sprang to her mind and raced away with her, too. It was true that she had been teasing him since she came to stay, that she had enjoyed the barely concealed lust in his eyes. She had to admit that she had been embarrassed but turned-on to see his erection form and move in his trousers, and had found herself wondering whether he masturbated to the thought of her. The idea disgusted her. Her "nephew", the son of her best friend, feeling so aroused by her that he jacked off, imagining her as he came. It was an image that she chose not to dwell upon. At first. But then the thought of his hand pumping up and down as he gritted his teeth and called her to mind seemed erotic as well as obscene. The thought that perhaps he felt so powerfully aroused by her gave her a warm – and naughty – feeling. Surely, though – or at least, so she had thought until tonight – Mike wasn't that sort of lad. Was he? Now the image came back to her mind again. And, again, it both disgusted her and appealed to her. The seediness of his barely hidden desire for aroused her, too, the more so given their age difference and that they were almost family. She felt guilty for encouraging him to think of her sexually. She felt guilty for having enjoyed his attention. Until tonight. Tonight he had been way out of order. To have touched her boob would have been bad enough. But to have kissed her there seemed far more sexual, less impetuous, more planned and calculating. He had overstepped the mark big time. And yet... she found herself denying it, but the truth was that the very boldness and outrageousness of his behaviour turned her on as well as angered her. The question was whether to tell his mother, Angela. They had been close since their late teens, and head helped each other through difficult times. Telling her what had happened could ruin all that. But not to tell would be harder. Another thought kept coming to her mind that was hard to drive away or even to answer. "Why did I flirt with him in the first place? And not just flirt – I encouraged him to think of me sexually with the way I left my underwear in full view – even my stockings, when Angela wasn't around! And – oh, hell, it wasn't exactly subtle to put them out after she had left the house and retrieve them again just before she came home!" She tried to justify her earlier actions and told herself that she had meant them simply as an innocent flirt but deep down she knew that she had done it to see how he reacted. The simple fact was that he had called her bluff. Her mind also went back to the DVD she had suggested they watch earlier that evening. She hated to admit it, but she had chosen it partly for its racy scenes, to watch his reaction – and she had thought it would be fun to watch him and see if he sprouted an erection. And – though she tried to argue it away – when he had, she had been aroused by the lewd sight, and aroused further to see it move, snake-like, in his trousers. The truth was that she was partly to blame. She knew it, even though she was loath to admit it. She had actively led him along and he had reacted as she guessed her might. It was more unsettling to think that she had in fact responded in the way that she almost hoped he might. And now the ball was back where it had begun – in her court. She had to decide the next course of action. To tell, or not to tell. Of course there was a third possible course of action. She dismissed it out of hand, but it dogged her as she debated whether to tell his mother or ignore what had happened and make it clear to him that he must never act in such a way again. An image formed in her head. She was creeping into Mike's room in the middle of the night, slipping under the bedclothes, snuggling up to him. He stirred but she shushed him and they began to make love – or maybe just have sex – silently, softly, so as not to wake his mother, asleep in the next room – and feeling ashamed, afraid and almost electrically charged with the whole illicit scenario. She was shocked by the image and tried to drive it away. But its naughtiness stirred her. And she found it hard to escape its beckoning allure. It had been many months since she had had sex. She missed it. Tonight was, among other things, a reminder just how much she missed it. But – hell, surely the answer didn't lie with her best friend's son, she reasoned. Then again and again she focussed her mind on that outrageous kiss. He had overstepped the mark. Big time. _______________ Mike waited for a good hour before going upstairs himself. He smiled wryly to think that this night when he had attempted to seduce his "aunt" was the only night so far of her stay that he had no inclination to masturbate at the thought of her. His nerves were on edge. He felt genuinely bad to have treated her in such a way, and to risk spoiling what had always been a close and special relationship. He also not only feared what his mother's reaction would be if Aunt Sue told her what he had done. He truly feared ruining the strong friendship that his mother and she had enjoyed over many years. He could not decide whether it would be better if his mother blamed him entirely, or whether he would prefer it if she blamed Sue as well for encouraging him. Once more he cursed his stupidity. He washed, brushed his teeth, and stepped towards his bedroom. He noticed that Sue's bedroom light was not on, but that his was. He decided that he must have forgotten to switch it off. He pushed his bedroom door open and gasped audibly with surprise at the sight that greeted him. But, though his feet remained frozen to the spot, his eyes moved plenty. "Aunt" Sue was standing sideways-on to the doorway, looking towards him. Her left leg was bent at the knee and her foot was resting on his bed. She was wearing her white satin camisole. It hugged each of her smallish breasts deliciously, and her nipples jutted against it. The lace trim drew his eye to the pale skin of the tops of her modest, shapely orbs, and to her shallow cleft. She looked at him with an inscrutable expression. She was wearing flimsy black satin panties, and a black suspender belt adorned her waist. Her slender (though relatively short) legs were clad in sheer, black stockings that shone a little. Like her stockings, her camisole and her panties shimmered alluringly. She was wearing high stiletto shoes. They were bright red. The black, white and red contrasted deliciously with each other and with the paleness of her skin. She ran one hand teasingly up and down the leg that was resting on the bed. It was an overtly teasing and sexual action, and immediately he felt a tightening in his groin. Her legs were not long, but they looked longer in her red stiletto heels. At the same time he was very afraid of what she was going to say. Her facial expression betrayed no emotion other than a slight strain, which could have been anger, fear or even arousal, possibly even a mixture. It was simply impossible to guess. With a thrill he realised that all the lingerie she was wearing he had caressed, stroked, nuzzled and kissed (along with other clothes of hers) while they were draped on the clothes maiden. Now, at last, and beyond his wildest expectation, here she was standing before him, alone in the house with him, and in his bedroom! – wearing nothing but them. Under her black panties her bum cheeks looked firm and shapely, and part of each was exposed by the cut of the fabric panties. Her pale skin contrasted deliciously with the black fabric. He raced his eyes up and down her black suspenders, one stretched taut and the other slack, and over the pale skin of her thighs above her stockingtops. He glanced back to her red stilettos. She sat down at the top of the bed with her slender legs parted and with one knee bent and drawn towards her chin. His gaze drifted to the black triangle of her panties between her thighs, then back to the bright red of her shoes against her black stockings. She motioned to him to join her, but gestures to the bottom of the bed rather than beside her. Her expression was still aloof, and impossible to interpret, and her continuing silence made the atmosphere incredibly tense. He felt a knot of fear tighten in his stomach. He found the tension both an agony and an arousal as she stared at him without speaking. Despite his fear he risked a glance at her small, firm breasts under her camisole. It might be his imagination, but he thought her nipples looked a bit harder than they had when he entered the room. Rather than sit, he lay on his side across the bed, at ninety degrees to her as she sat at the top and facing towards the foot of the bed. He was afraid and had no idea how things would unfold. He supposed she was teasing him like this as a punishment, to make him feel uncomfortable. After all, he told himself, she could not be tempting him for real – not after his lewd kiss and her consequent outrage. No, he reasoned, this must be some kind of kinky payback. "As well as playing that trick on me tonight, you've been playing with my underwear, haven't you?" It was a statement, not a question. The sudden snapping of the tense silence made him jump. He blushed and nodded, but, to her surprise, he held her gaze with his. She had intended to stare him out, but she ended up looking away before he did as doubts crowded into her mind. She was annoyed with herself, and tried to regain her courage. But she was impressed by his bravado in admitting it without resorting to snivelling and pleading with her not to tell his mother. She looked at him again. He held her gaze. She stared back. This time it was he who looked away from her face. Not at the floor, the bed, or the wall, though, but at her breasts, and at her legs. His sheer nerve and the overtness of his lecherous look even while she was chiding him for his inappropriate behaviour and unsolicited advance infuriated her. But his coolness and lewdness partly thrilled her, too. "What exactly did you do to my underwear? she demanded. He looked her in the eye. "Nothing. Nothing much. I... I just ran it through my fingers to see how soft it was." An image of him doing so came to her mind. She could almost visualise the hungry look on his face as he stroked her stockings and kissed her bra and knickers. Again the sullenness yet directness of his reply stirred her, awakening her desire from its half-slumber. "I can't believe what I'm damn well hearing, Mike. I thought I knew you really well, yet here you are acting like... like a pervert! And why exactly did you DO that?" He wished she would either rant at him or let the matter drop. This questioning was truly embarrassing and humiliating. But he was determined to remain as strong as he could. He looked down at his feet, then fleetingly back at her face, before returning to her slender stockinged legs, and to her black satin panties. She shuddered at his shamelessness, feeling both uncomfortable and aroused by his evident hunger for her. "I... I'm not a pervert, Aunt Sue. I fancy you like mad. If you must know... I... I wanted to imagine what you would look like in your undies. And..." "Yes?" she snapped, though she felt very hot and her heart was beating faster. "Well... and what you would FEEL like. Through it, I mean. If I was touching you through it, that is." He did feel really perverted now, though. All the time the fear of his mother finding out swamped his thinking. She would feel hurt, betrayed, and totally shocked. Even if she went crazy at him her hurt and upset would be harder to cope with. Understandably. And he would be unable to offer any plausible excuse. He would have to take full responsibility. His head was spinning. But he still felt aroused as he looked at his "aunt" glaring at him angrily, yet dressed provocatively, and reclining on his bed. "And that was it?" Still her tone was sharp. "Yes, Aunt Sue." "You didn't... put it on or... wrap it round yourself and play with yourself like that?" "No. No, I didn't." "Well, whether you're a pervert is debatable. Still it's something to be grateful for, I suppose, that you only TOUCHED my underwear." Her tone was icy. He felt as if he was on trial and awaiting the verdict. Again he stared at her breasts as they rose and fell under her camisole. Impetuously he risked making his fixation obvious by tilting his head to one side. He looked back into her face, and to his delight she looked away. He registered her growing doubts. She was struggling to maintain any degree of composure now. He sensed it, though he was unsure whether she was beginning to feel turned on or about to erupt in a torrent of fury. "And now that you've seen me in it – are you satisfied?" Her pulse was racing and she felt a little squish of delight at the whole scenario that she found herself in. She hoped that her voice did not betray her feelings too much. "Yes. Well... almost," he replied, almost insolently. "Meaning?" she demanded, looking him full in the eye and raising her eyebrows. "Oh, I think you can guess, Aunt Sue." He held her gaze. Again she was angry yet excited at the volley of remarks between them, the way that he seemed to counter each of hers and pushed her back onto the defensive. "Oh, believe me, I'm struggling to guess WHAT goes on in that filthy mind of yours any more, Mike. Explain. And when you say you fancy me, I presume you don't mean in a romantic, candlelit dinner sense." She almost spat the last phrase out and her tone was blisteringly sarcastic. "Well, no. Part of me is ashamed to say so, but part of me wondered... what you would look like OUT of your underwear. Sorry. But you asked me to explain. There's your explanation." He stared into her eyes once more. "I see. So you thought it would be a good start to kiss my... my TIT?" She raised her voice and it sounded shrill in anger. This cat-and-mouse exchange was arousing her greatly now. She thrilled in his evident discomfort, yet at the same time admired the way he stood up to her. Deep down, too, she thrilled in the tug of war that was taking place in her mind. The outcome could go either way now, she realised as her arousal reached the same intensity as her anger and shame. "Yes. I did think it would be a good start... and that... that it would be just that – a start. Anyway, I've said I'm sorry." "So you keep saying. I don't know whether you are, though," she replied. She knew that her voice was strained with emotion. "Are... are you going to tell Mum?" It was a pertinent question, but he asked it in a matter-of-fact, need-to-know sort of way, not in a grovelling, pleading manner. She found her excitement rising. At the same time she found herself being pushed on the defensive again. She felt angry at the loss of control and initiative. "I don't know. I dressed like this for a reason. I wanted to see if you're sorry. To see if... if you're sorry enough to keep your eyes off me. But you can't, can you? Over and over again you keep staring at me." She hoped that her anger sounded genuine. Of course I can't keep my eyes off you, Aunt Sue. You're incredibly sexy. And, no, I don't fancy you in a romantic sense. And, yes, I DO fancy you like mad sexually. You know that, of course. And... and, be honest, you've encouraged it. You... you've been teasing me deliberately. Ever since you arrived, in fact! Okay, you may not have been wanting me to do what I did earlier. But you sure as hell did it for some kind of reaction!" He tried to sound as calm as he could. He was still afraid of how it would all end, but he was determined to put her on the spot and take back some control. The frankness and accuracy of his words made her skin rise in goosebumps. She felt a twinge of arousal as she was confronted by her own feelings and actions towards him "I dare say I have flirted with you a bit. But it doesn't bloody well mean you're entitled to make sexual advances on me!" she retorted. She glared at him. "Anyway, thank you for being so honest with me. Anyway, I'm off to bed now. And I hope you're not going to ask if you can kiss me goodnight again!" she said, sharply. "No, Auntie, of course not." He watched her as she swung her legs off the side of the bed and stood up. Her modest breasts gave a little forward surge under her camisole, and he caught a fleeting glimpse inside her neckline of the tops of her orbs. Despite his fear his erection gave a little salute inside his trousers. She spotted it. She fought back her remaining doubts and shame and felt suddenly hot as she prepared to play out the sweet trick of revenge on him that had come to her mind during her earlier mental debate with herself. It was to be a sweet revenge, indeed, a gentle, teasing revenge, a peace-making – and consummating revenge! A revenge that would relieve the pent-up desires – of each of them! "Good. Well, that's that, then. As for telling your mum – it all depends on how you behave from now on. And I WILL let you kiss me goodnight. But don't you dare get any bloody ideas about kissing my boobs again. I WILL let you kiss me goodnight once – on the lips. Do you think you can behave yourself and confine yourself to that? To kissing me once on the lips? You'd bloody well better!" He was totally baffled by her ambivalent, contradictory behaviour. He contented himself with a nod. "Lie down then and close your eyes then! And purse your lips!" she ordered. He sank onto his back with his head at the very edge of the bed and closed his eyes. He was tempted to keep them open a fraction, just to see her breasts surge forward under her camisole. But he dared not. He was still afraid that she would tell his mother, and dreaded the fallout if she did . Sue smirked to herself as she stared at his young, emotion-wracked face, and at the bulge in his trousers as it gave a little surge again. Although she felt ashamed and guilty about what she was about to do, she struggled to keep from laughing out loud. As quietly as she could she dragged her panties to one side and raised one leg. She wished she was an inch or so taller, as she had to stand on tiptoe. Then, gazing down at her trimmed but hairy mound she stepped astride his face, bringing her pussy to his pursed lips in a swift, smooth movement. He tensed in his shock as the musky, moist, hair-festooned flesh met his mouth. Before he had time to react further she withdrew her minge from him, swinging her leg back from him to plant it on the floor. She laughed as he stared at her, then he, too, laughed at her lewd practical joke and pun. "Well, now you damn well know what it's like to kiss Aunt Sue's lips! Did they taste sweet? Were they moist? Hmmm?" He nodded, still shocked, and still chuckling quietly both at her crudity and with relief as he realised that she was not in fact mad at him. It was especially arousing given that she was his mother's best friend, and that she had always seemed demure, and relatively prim and proper. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and reached out for her breasts, but she pushed him gently down onto his back once more. "Ah-ah. Not till Auntie says! So, Mike, you bad boy. You wanted to see me in my underwear. So, tell me what you think..." He was confused and a little annoyed. He was not entirely sure whether she was now backing off or simply stringing him along for a little longer before allowing him to take her. "I think... I think you are a very sexy lady, Aunt Sue..." Her modest breasts looked extremely inviting under her white camisole, and he reached out for them again, but she backed away a step and gave his hand a playful tap. She was determined to delay things and maximise the anticipation for both of them. She wanted him, she wanted him badly, many times over and over again, but she wanted to build things up a little more each time, to se his hunger and his satisfaction realised little by little and progressively. She did her best to summon a commanding, in-control tone of voice. Kissing Mum's Friend Goodnight Ch. 02 "Ah-ah! Not yet! You said you wanted to see me in my underwear. You can do better than to say you think I'm sexy. So – describe what you see. Tell me what it is that you find sexy..." At this point she leaned forward and gave his erection a little squeeze through his trousers. "And if you do... well, perhaps... PERHAPS – provided I think you are being honest – I'll give you a view of what I look like OUT of them. And perhaps then... well, who knows? After all..." She lowered her voice to make her next words seem more private and intimate. "After all, your mum is on night shift till morning and we have the whole night alone... IF WE BOTH CHOOSE! So – tell me what about me turns you on... Relief and lust flooded his senses, but he was also embarrassed at her insistent and demands for explicit detail. She walked across to his computer chair and swung it round to face him. She sat on it, and crossed her slender, stockinged legs quite high. She rested one hand on her knee, placed the other over it and looked at him coyly and almost primly. Her outward manner was of course at total odds with her words. The whole situation was absurdly and sexually tense. He was aching for her, but the stern tone she had adopted made him feel obliged to play along with her game. Despite his earlier boldness he now felt oddly shy. It was one thing to leer secretly at her, even to make a pass at her. It was something else entirely to speak frankly and explicitly to her. He was sure that she was enjoying making him uncomfortable. He smiled to himself. He had come off lightly. Of one thing he was relieved. She did not want him to pretend to any romantic feelings for her. For a moment or two he let his eyes roam swiftly all over her petite, sexy, mature body, then back to her face. He knew he was blushing, and felt annoyed and stupid. He also felt dirty to be leering at his mother's best friend so eagerly and obviously. Yet her full knowledge, approval of his rude stares, and her evident arousal by it felt incredibly liberating and erotic, too, after having had to be content with furtive, fleeting glances. He now feasted his lustful gaze on her. Her growing desire thrilled him. For a few heady, intense moments neither spoke. He just stared and her eyes followed his in their visual, detailed exploration. Still unsure how best to answer, he decided to start off safely. "I think you're pretty, Aunt Sue. Seriously. I like your face. I like your big, dark eyes. They're so expressive. I like your hair, too – I like it because it's always smart, I like the way it stands away from your head. I like its dark colour and... and the fact it's just starting to go grey..." "And why does that appeal to you?" she asked in a seemingly matter-of-fact way, though the expression on her face was intense. "I... I suppose that it's a sign of... of our age difference. I mean – you're... sorry, but you asked me to be honest... you're... you're old enough to be my mother..." He hoped that she was not offended by his reference to her age. If she was, she gave no sign. In fact she felt a quiver of naughty pleasure run through her. "And why does that excite you, Mike?" she asked, as coolly as she could. She was acutely aware of the extent of his lust for her, but she wanted to hear him describe it, to hear in detail what fuelled it. "Because... because our age difference alone makes it seem wrong. And... and the fact that I call you 'Aunt' makes it seem even more so, AUNT Sue..." he continued. He looked into her face. She was holding his gaze and was now clearly as aroused as he was. Her eyes flashed with shocked pleasure at his use of the term when describing his sexual attraction to her. "I see, Mike. Go on... tell me what else you see and how you feel." Her voice was now slightly husky. He felt more confident – and more aroused – by her reaction. He gazed at her face. Her expression was serene. Her long eyelashes were big and curled away from her dark eyes, and were emphasised by her subtly-applied mascara. He looked at her cheeks, and her mouth. "I like your mouth. Your lips are subtly made up and look so kissable. I... I keep thinking how nice it would be to kiss you..." "To kiss me?" she asked. "Yes. To kiss you. Really kiss you. Snog you. To run my tongue across your warm, firm lips, and feel you part them. To lick your teeth and tease your tongue with mine, AUNTIE, and feel you darting your tongue against mine..." She gave a low gasp as he uttered the word again that emphasised the near-incestuous desire they were each feeling. He felt his erection straining against his trousers, straining to be released and to sate itself inside her. Despite his earlier frustration and annoyance at her teasing, he too was now savouring each luscious moment as he spoke to his mother's friend in a way he could never have imagined. He roved his gaze over the lightly pleated bust of her white camisole, and along its lace-trimmed neckline. The bare skin above it looked pale, soft, and inviting. The rise and fall of her breasts under the white satin almost mesmerised him. So did the points of her nipples pressing against the shimmering fabric. "And, Aunt Sue, I adore the way your silky camisole hugs your lovely... breasts, the way your er... your nipples press against it. I... I love the way your boobs rise and fall under it, filling it then shrinking back a bit again. And when they do... they leave a tempting little gap between the satin and your breasts. I like being able to see inside..." "You like Aunt Sue's tits?" Her use of the ruder term delighted him. This sudden transformation from her usually demure and restrained speech was a delicious change. "Ohhh, yes!" "But they're not very big," she said softly. She had often wished that her breasts were a little larger, and that she was a little taller and possibly just slightly stockier so that she would still be well-proportioned. As it was, her B-cup breasts complimented petite body well. Bigger breasts would need a slightly larger frame. "They're big enough for me, Auntie. They look firm and shapely. I love looking at your cleft. It's... it's only shallow but I can't help wishing I could see further down that lovely valley to the full rounded part of your tits. It looks so inviting a place..." She felt a surge of pleasure and satisfaction at his words, and a moistness seeping between her legs. He studied her aroused expression again. "I suppose the fact that you only show a hint of that lovely valley, and the... the shapely rounded hillocks on each side..." he added. She smiled at his rude innuendo. "And... even though I'm your mum's best friend – and as near to being your aunt as dammit – you like trying to see down my blouse, my dressing robe, or this camisole?" she urged. "Yes. I haven't managed to see very much, though it's not for lack of trying. But I suppose that makes it the more enticing. That... that each time I glance might be the lucky time when I see a glimpse of... of nipple!" She gave a sharp intake of breath. His affirmation of her sex appeal made her feel very satisfied, very feminine, very good about herself. And very aroused too, of course. She was torn between prolonging the thrilling verbal foreplay and exchanging it for physical foreplay instead. "And, Aunt Sue... I love the way your camisole catches the light and shines and glimmers. And the way it stretches and folds across your slim... but old-enough-to-be my-mother body..." She felt a shudder of delight as he referred again to her age and aunt-like role. She saw his gaze drop to her flattish belly, and to the bare strip of pale skin between the hem of her camisole and the waistband of her panties. They were the very panties that on several occasions he had fondled, and probably nuzzled and kissed, on the clothes maiden where she had left them especially for him to admire. Her mind formed a picture of him doing so. He continued. "I like your slim waist and the subtle curves of your hips. I like your slender legs, too. And your lean thighs. They look so good in those sexy stockings. I... I've often fantasised about you in stockings, Auntie, it was an incredible turn-on to see them on the clothes maiden and to realise that you actually wore them..." "And do you like the sight of me in them, love?" she purred. "Oh yes, Aunt Sue. You look fantastic in them..." he blurted. "Why?" "You know full well, Auntie. It's the very same reason you wear them..." She felt a bit ashamed but excited too by his reference to her enjoyment of wearing provocative clothing. "Tell me, Mike..." "As well as them looking good, it's because they have associations, don't they? There's something inherently erotic – even tarty – about stockings. It's... it's the fact that they leave a strip of bare skin at the top of the thigh draws the gaze. It makes the eye linger there a moment or two, running along the sexy, dark, lace-trimmed stocking top then to the top of the thigh – to the top of YOUR thigh, Aunt Sue." Her face was deeply flushed as he spoke to her. She felt a little moistening surge between her thighs. "And then –you're drawing my eye up those sexy black suspenders, and... and my eye then gets drawn beyond, to your, er..." "To my panties? My pussy?" she encouraged, her voice tense. He felt hot with desire for her, and her words inflamed him further. He became bolder still. "Oh yes, Auntie. To your pussy. The pussy of my mum's best friend. It's framed by your black suspenders and by the pale skin of your thighs. The material looks flimsy and very tempting." "Tempting?" she asked in a low whisper. "Yes. Tempting to pull them to one side or down to your knees to see exactly what's inside! Ot to touch your.. your pussy through it!" It was almost agonising to refrain from going to her and touching it, but still he felt obliged to go along with her tease. To his delight she held the waistband of her panties tight and dragged the gusset up, tautening the fabric against herself – into her slit in fact. "Can... can you see IT through my little black panties, you bad boy?" "Oh yes. I can't take my eyes off it. It looks like... like a camel's toe through them, Aunt Sue. I can see the roundness of your mound on each side, and the cloven-hoof-slot cleft in the middle..." Far from showing outrage at his crude words, they clearly aroused her as much as he felt aroused to utter them to her – to her, his mother's best friend – his almost-aunt! "Your panties look so flimsy, so thin! They almost beg a hand to reach out and stroke that cleft that speaks of Auntie's warm, tight... clasping, inviting moistness..." He heard her sigh, watched her reaction, hoping his explicit language had not gone too far. Her face showed no anger, just surprise. "That sticky cleft that speaks of tight clasping cunt-muscle to grip a... a big, hard YOUNGER cock – that belongs to her best friend's son. That slit that would work it and milk him dry and spent..." She gave a low gasp at his coarse, explicit language. "And that's what you've been thinking of, then these past days – not just looking, but actually dreaming of giving me one... of... FUCKING me, is it?" Her voice was now husky with need, and her breathing was shallow with excitement. "Yes." "You've been fantasising about getting your... cock and slipping it up my mature pussy and... and fucking it till we both come?" "Yes. And that deep down you've been having the same fantasy, Aunt Sue. Haven't you? Tell me!" he insisted. "Yes. Yes I have!" she groaned. "And, that being the case, Auntie – you want to do it right now, don't you?" She nodded. Then, thrilled and feeling liberated by their explicit conversation, she looked him in the eye. She got up from the chair and walked to the bed. "Yes, I do. I want to feel your hard young cock slipping inside me and poking and prodding me. I want to feel you empty your hot young pent-up spunk inside me! I want to see and feel it dribble out afterwards!" It all sounded a bit pathetic and puerile to speak in such a way to each other for the first time ever, a bit like a naughty child swearing for the first time and getting a kick out of saying the forbidden words. But it was all part of the illicit scene and its intense effect upon her. "Even though you're my mum's best friend? Even though I call you 'Auntie Sue'," he urged. "Ye-yesss!" she hissed. "Sit on the edge of the bed, love. Let's do it, Mike! Let's... fuck! But – this first time I keep these clothes on. You just have to imagine the sights as we do it. Okay?" He nodded impatiently. At the same time he felt a pang of pleasure at her implied promise of many occasions of sex after this one. She kissed him and whispered in his ear. "But the second time... and the third... and fourth... and however many more you want... you get to see me completely naked. Agreed?" "Yes. Yes of course, Aunt Sue..." He was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He stared at her as he pulled off his tee shirt, then he stood briefly to unfasten his trousers and push them down to his knees. His underpants quickly joined them. He sat down once more. He followed her approving gaze to his hardness standing proudly to attention. To his delight she parted her slender, stockinged thighs and knelt astride him on the bed. He could feel the softness and slight moistness of her panties against his pulsing erection, and the feel of her soft flesh beneath. He groaned. So did she. They kissed deeply and passionately, and he fondled her narrow back through the warm slippery camisole. His hand slid to her thigh. He played with her soft suspender and lacy stockingtop, then stroked and kneaded her firm bare upper thigh. She raised herself higher on her knees and arched her back a little, pushing her modest firm breasts to his face. He kissed them, pushing his mouth against her orbs and between them, thrilling in the feel of them through the white satin of her camisole. He found her nipples, firm and taut, and licked and chewed them through the slippery fabric. He was surprised that without any further foreplay she dragged her panties to one side. He caught a fleeting glimpse of dark, trimmed hair before she took his throbbing cock and eased it inside herself, with her gusset pressing against his pulsing member. He groped and sucked her small, firm breasts through her camisole, and worked one hand round to fondle her tight bum cheeks. She began to grind up and down, slowly but deeply, but within moments she began to ride him faster. He knew that he was not going to last long, and suspected that neither was she, but it did not matter. He needed to come, and to come quickly. From her actions he knew that so did she. They clasped each other tightly as their pace raced to its climax. It was all over in a matter of just a few minutes. He sank back on the bed, spent, and she slid beside him. They giggled and caressed each other, and dozed off lightly for a few minutes. As he drifted luxuriously into his light sleep she kissed him and murmured, "That was so bloody good, Mike! She raised herself briefly on her elbow and looked at the clock. "And it's only twelve-twenty-three. Just over six hours till your mum gets home! I hope you won't doze off for two long, you naughty boy! Though if you do... well, Aunt Sue will soon find a way to ROUSE you!" He looked into her slightly lined but serene face, leaned up to kiss her on the mouth, and lowered himself to his back again. He smiled and sighed a deep sigh of contentment as he drifted off.