Chapter 6
Helen took off her lacy red panties and draped them over the shower curtain rod. She pulled her dress up around her waist and sat on the toilet. She pressed hard and felt the pee start. She had heard that some men liked to watch a woman pee. She wondered why such a simple act fascinated them. Rick could watch her pee, if he wanted to. She would do just about anything for him, as long as she got his big cock to suck and ride as a reward.
She studied herself critically in the mirror on the back of the door. Her thighs had never been thin. But they were still as shapely and firm as they were when she married Frank. Why didn't he like to get between them as much as he used to?
Her forehead was still unwrinkled, even at thirty-five. At least that was something. She expected to have turkey skin on her neck and wrinkles all over her face by this time. She squeezed her fleshy cunt lips together, closing them over her finger, and moaned softly.
At least she hadn't let the isolation of living in the country get to her the way it had to many of the neighbors. She couldn't stand what the long days of boredom and heavy diet did to them. They seemed to think that living on what had been a farm demanded that they eat like a farmer-or like the pigs the farmers had raised.
Except her sister, of course. She and her husband ran a real farm. like farmers of old, they grew a variety of crops. Jack made the best sausage she had ever eaten. If she had one of his big, fat sausages right now, she would shove it up her cunt instead of her fingers.
She straddled the toilet seat and slid her hand over the reddened lips of her snatch. She watched her face, shaking her head gently so her long brown hair jiggled in counterpoint to the wiggling of her fingers in her pussy.
She swiveled around on the seat to spread her legs in front of the mirror. She could see herself getting excited as her finger prodded the erect stud at the top of her hairy gash. It was almost like watching another woman playing with herself.
"Ummmmmm, nice wet pussy," she murmured, exchanging a smile with the woman in the mirror.
The tip of her tongue slid along her upper lip. The red underside reminded her of the glistening, crimson head of a prick. She wished she had one in her mouth right now, giving it a good sucking. Her hand moved faster.
"Let's see one of those nice tits," she murmured.
"Let Mama hold one of those soft tits in her hand. Mama wants to pinch those pretty nipples until they beg for more. Just like your clitty is twitching, wanting it so badly."
She liked the way the thick nipples on her big tits poked the blue cotton of her housedress. She thought of herself as a hot little bitch who was only masquerading as a housewife. She took her hands from her cunt and kept her eyes on the image in the mirror as she opened the front of her dress. The large pearl buttons were easy to handle.
"That's a nice little bitch," she muttered as she pinched and stroked her nipples. "Good titties! Certainly big enough for a man to put his prick between them and blow his load all over my chest. I wonder why Frank never wants to do that any more."
She put one hand back between her thighs. Her fingers easily located the erect projection of her hard love buzzer.
"Mama-likes big titties." She squeezed the bud of her left tit between her thumb and forefinger, and watched it swell with arousal. "Does that feel good, little bitch?" she asked her reflection.
"Oh, yes, it feels so fucking good!"
"Mama's going to give you the finger again, Miss Pretty Pussy. The fingers are here and...."
"Oh, yesss! There! Put your finger up my ass, too!"
She enjoyed her little game of speaking to herself in two different voices while getting herself off, just as if there were really two people present. Her breath came in short, quick gasps, matching the rhythm of her fingers in her pussy. Her thumb was in her ass, going in slowly, so slowly.
"That's it! Slip it in slow! Finger-fuck my ass!"
Johnny parked as close as possible to the house. He had to walk slow so he wouldn't break the eggs. By the time he reached the front porch, he was soaked.
"Oh, Mama, Mama, do me with your fingers!" Helen wailed. "Oh, yes, Mama, yesss! Frig my clitty! Right there! Ohhh, yesss, frig my poor little clitty, Mama! It's on fire!"
"Little bitch-likes her pretty titties petted, doesn't she? Pet your stiff nipples like that, you little bitch!"
The doorbell cut into Helen's awareness like a scalpel. She thought Rick had finally come with his big cock and her vibrator. She jumped up and rushed to the front door. She put a broad smile on her face and yanked the door open to welcome him.
Johnny stared at his aunt's bare tits sticking out of her open dress. God, those things are beautiful! he thought. He had a basket of eggs in one hand and a package of butter in the other, or he would have reached out and fondled the gorgeous mounds. Aunt or no aunt!
Helen's smile started to fade. She put it back on and trilled, "Johnny!"
He cleared his throat twice and said, "Did I come at a bad time?" he mumbled.
"I was expecting the mailman," she replied. She saw where he was looking and quickly pulled the top of her dress closed. "I mean... well...."
"He probably won't make it today. The bridge is out. I had to use the four-wheel and ford the creek. His truck isn't big enough to get across." He held out the butter and eggs. "Mom sent these over. Everything is fresh."
"Oh, how thoughtful." She seemed to actually see him for the first time. "You're soaked. Why are you standing out there?"
"You're standing in the door," he said.
"Oh," she muttered. She backed up. "Well, come on in. You can't stand out there all day."
He couldn't figure her out. She sounded angry with him for not having done something. He followed her into the house, feeling uneasy and wary. The way the cheeks of her ass wiggled under her thin summer frock only made things worse.
"The coffee is fresh," she said.
She left him in the dining room and went to the kitchen to check something in the oven. As she bent over, her dress rode up to reveal her smooth and shapely upper thighs. He could have sworn she gave her ass a little shake in his direction. He couldn't be sure it had really happened. Not that it made a lot of difference to his cock. He felt it swelling in his pants as he stared at her ass and wondered what it would feel like to have his hands all over it. It was shapely and firm, just like his mother's.
She straightened up and turned to face him. He sensed that something in her manner had changed.
"Would you like some fresh coffee? It won't take but a few minutes to drink a cup. You're not in a hurry, are you? Maybe you should wait until your clothes are dry anyway. You're soaked. Tell you what. You go in the bathroom and get out of those wet clothes, and I'll bring you one of Frank's robes. If I let you go home that way, Laura will give me hell."
She realized that she was rattling. She couldn't help herself. She had been so close to cumming. Then she thought Rick was at the door, and she was going to ride his big cock. She was having trouble separating the mailman from her nephew in her mind.
Johnny had such a hard-on that he had to hide it with his hands. His prick bulged at the front of his wet pants like a fist balled up against the zipper. She came out of the kitchen, and he knew she was going to see it. Then there would be hell to pay. How could he be so stupid? Getting a hard-on just because he saw his aunt's naked tits and foxy ass.
"The mailman stops here for coffee several times a week," she said. Her eyes dropped to the front of his pants, but she didn't seem to notice the bulge. "About every other day," she continued, sounding distracted. She had no idea why she said it. It just came out.
"I'd better get out of these wet clothes." He had to do something to get away from her until his cock went down. "You said something about one of Frank's robes."
"Oh, yes. You know where the bathroom is. I'll bring the robe in a minute."
He shut the bathroom door behind him and turned the lock. Out of her presence, he lost his erection. He took off his shirt, turned to hang it over the shower curtain rod and saw her lacy red panties. They went right up against her pretty ass and sweet pussy. Her pussy had to be sweet. It ran in the family, no doubt, and Corky's was as sweet as sugar. He laid the panties on his shoulder and hung his shirt. He had to take off his boots to get his jeans off. His boots and socks were soaked anyway. His clothes filled the rod. Oh, well, he could put her panties on top of his shirt.
He couldn't resist the urge to rub the panties over his face. He felt his cock stir and flicked the head sharply with his middle finger. He couldn't go back out there with a hard-on. There was no way he could keep it from showing under a robe. The panties were against his cheek when he heard the door open behind him. He looked over his shoulder at Helen standing in the door, holding a robe.
"You look like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar," she laughed. "Coffee's ready. Don't let it get cold." She tossed him the robe and left the door standing open.
He came back into the dining room, feeling edgy again. He was sure she was going to order him out of the house at any minute. Following her gesture, he took a seat in a chair facing a large window that overlooked the field behind the house. The ground was covered with a growth of summer weeds. Frank wasn't even a weekend gardener.
She had put out cups and saucers. She brought the pot of coffee from the kitchen and leaned over to fill his cup. She had buttoned her dress only partway. Her fine tits were firm and full, standing up proudly without the benefit of a bra.
He couldn't help looking down the front of her dress. The sight of the twin globes made his cock twitch. He wished her could slide his fingers down those smooth slopes and into the deep cleavage between the large mounds. He wondered if she was wearing panties. The ones in the bathroom weren't wet. Maybe she put them on that morning, then took them off for some reason. The thought of her sweet pussy naked under the summer frock made his cock twitch harder.
She poured her coffee and sat at the end of the table. Her knee touched his, and he couldn't tell if it was an accident or on purpose.
"So, how are things?" she asked, her voice casual. Whatever had been bothering her earlier seemed to have been resolved. "Are you glad to be home for good?"
"Yeah, college gets to be a drag."
She lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Her tits swelled. Her nipples poked into the thin material of her dress. She gave him a knowing smile. "Anything you do over and over the same old way, gets to be a drag."
He tried to keep his eyes off the firm buds capping her beautiful tits. She wasn't alluding to what he thought she was. She couldn't be. She was his aunt, for Pete's sake! He decided to play along anyway, and see what happened.
"What if you do the same thing over and over, but do it differently? Does it still get to be a drag?"
She gave him a knowing smile. "Not necessarily," she replied, her voice low and husky. "Especially if you don't have to do it with the same person all the time. You don't look as if college made you soft. I mean, you look like you have lots of stamina and all that stuff."
What stuff? he wondered. He watched her finger as it moved languidly around the rim of her cup. "Well, I worked on the farm with Dad every summer, and I stayed active at school."
She gave him another knowing smile. "Yes, I imagine you did. Why do you still call me Aunt Helen?"
"Well, Helen is your name, and you are my aunt."
"I don't want you to call me aunt. It makes me feel old, and I'm not that much older than you. Oh, I forgot the cream."
She leaned forward as she got up, and he saw most of her big tits again. His cock started filling with blood. He willed it to stop, without success. Watching her shapely ass sway as she walked, and imagining her tits jiggling around in her dress, was too arousing.
She came back and stood by him as she poured cream in her coffee. A few drops dribbled down the side of the small, cut glass pitcher. She caught them with the tip of her finger, then licked it idly. "Ever wonder why people do that?" she asked.
"Do what?" he stammered.
"Lick their finger instead of wiping it on a napkin." She seemed to be following some train of thought that he didn't understand. "Licking things must be a habit with some people. I can't seem to stop doing it. Not that I've ever tried very hard. Do you take cream?"
She leaned over and one of her tits pressed against his shoulder. He could smell her light perfume and the natural aroma of her body. The combination of her closeness and the smells made his head spin.
"No, I take mine black, no sugar," he replied.
She sat down again and looked at her cigarette. It had burned down to the filter. He hoped she would take another one so he could light it for her.
Instead, she played with the doily, drawing the crocheted loops between her fingers.
"I baked some cookies," she said. "Chocolate chip. I took them out of the oven when I went to get the cream. They're cooling now. You can have some after a while."
He couldn't figure her out. He had never seen her this way. She was an enigma, friendly and open one minute, withdrawn and pensive the next, as though she couldn't make up her mind about something.
She leaned toward him, with her warm, moist lips near his cheek. "Did my panties feel good when you rubbed them on your face?"