I can’t stop fantasizing about Aunt

When it was time for me to go to college, the most logical and economically sound option was for me to live with my aunt. The university was a three hour drive from my childhood home, and my aunt lived a mere twenty minute drive away. My mother more or less made the decision for me, citing the old ‘bird flying the coop’ metaphor, but really I think she just wanted me gone so she could bring home more fuck buddies.

She was a very attractive woman still, her looks not fading with age. I was fortunate enough to inherit some of those looks, or so I’d been told, but none of the charm and charisma that allowed her to lure men into her den for wild fuck sessions. The walls were paper thin and our house wasn’t sizable to begin with. While she had tried to keep the volume down, it hadn’t particularly made a difference, and I didn’t particularly care. Good for her.

It had been a long time since I had seen my Aunt Freya. My only real memories of her were of me hiding from her and blushing severely when we would talk. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but I was a child then, and everything seemed to gleam and sparkle back then, didn’t it?

On the drive to her house, my luggage packed into the trunk, my mother was giving me the lecture I had expected. Commit to your studies, no drugs, safe sex, and on and on. I rolled my eyes throughout, playing the role, although I wasn’t actually annoyed. This would be my last time seeing my mother for months, and I was really as afraid of being away as I was excited. Spending time being parented by my mother, even if she was giving me her ‘I’m very serious’ glare, was comforting in its own way.

“Yes Hannah.” I said in exaggerated exasperation.

That was my go-to playful move. Call her by her first name and laugh at her annoyance, knowing she would smile after a moment, maybe even give a laugh in return. I would miss her.

We pulled into Aunt Freya’s driveway as the sun was going down. It was a cute home on a quiet street. Her porch was preceded by a stone path through some trimmed hedges and flowers. The sight unlocked some memories from my younger mind, and I marveled at how, despite seeing something through the same eyes as you once had, it could appear entirely different only a few years later.

My mother lead the way along the path and onto the porch. I saw her raise a fist to knock, then hesitate. She turned and gave me a strange look, then went ahead, announcing our arrival with three sharp knocks.

We only had to wait for a minute, but it felt like an eternity with my heavy bags in each hand. When my aunt opened the door it felt like they only got heavier, my body anticipating the relief of dropping my burden when I stepped through the doorway. Her greeting wasn’t exactly warm – a tight smile and a gesture to come in. I staggered through the door after my mom, setting my bags to the side, then turning to close it behind me.

We were in her kitchen which, while crowded, had a certain charm to it. Pots and pans hung from hooks on the green painted walls. Shelves of oils, honey, vinegar, and jam also adorned the walls. There were nooks for plants and ceramic figurines, and the archway that lead into the living room and hallway was lined with dark mahogany, grounding the room with an earthen vibe. Had we entered the home of Bilbo Baggins? It certainly felt that way.

My mother turned to me and gave me a quick hug, and spoke into my ear.

“You be good, and don’t knock anybody up while you’re away.”

“Jesus Christ mom!”

She laughed and pulled away, smiling at me. Her hand moved to my hair, which she ruffled into a mess.

As I was smoothing out the chaos she had imposed upon me, I saw another strange expression when she cast a glance over her shoulder at my aunt.

“Love you kiddo.” And then she was gone.

I was puzzled. Were they estranged? It sure seemed that way. That would explain why I hadn’t seen my Aunt Freya in such a long time.

Speaking of which, I was seeing her right now, and my childhood impression of her was spot on. I don’t want to describe her disrespectfully, but my monkey brain was entirely disrespectful in its assessment of her appearance.

She was slightly overweight, sure, but it suited her well. Her black hair was cut short, only down past her ears, and stunningly intoxicating, intelligent eyes stared out from behind her bangs. Yes, she was busty, and yes, she had wide hips and thick thighs, but those eyes were what held my gaze the most. They were penetrating, and at the thought of that word, something stirred in my pants, which I ferociously crushed with force of will. No way in hell was I going to let myself become enamored with a member of my own family.

I’d like to call back to when I described seeing the same sights with the same eyes but seeing something entirely different in it the second time around. This was not the case here. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, and I felt a slight blush in my cheeks, but not so deep to be noticeable. It was easily written off as exertion from hauling my overstuffed bags from the car and up her porch.

Our gazes locked, and I worried that she was giving me a cold glare. Images of a very tense and unpleasant stay zipped through my imaginative mind, but quickly vanished when her expression softened and she gave me the warm smile I had anticipated upon our initial arrival.

“Hey there cutie. Do ya still got that burning crush for me you had when you were just a little thing?”

I swear her smile was sly now. Was she really going to tease me the second we reconnected?

“Jesus Christ!” I said for the second time, and then she smiled even wider.

I had one hand slightly covering my face in embarrassment, but I did smile at the comment, and she laughed herself.

“I was really hoping that wouldn’t come up, to be completely honest.”

“I know it, but I couldn’t resist teasing you. You’re still adorable when you blush, by the way. Now come with me and we’ll get you all settled into your new room.”

Deeply relieved at the change of topic, I followed her up the stairs to – god dammit I was staring at her ass – my new room.

While I unpacked my bags, we caught up on things. It was the usual ‘How is so-and-so?’ and ‘What are you studying?’ and ‘It’s good to see you.’

It really was good to see her. She was a great conversationalist, causing me to open up and speak freely and comfortably. It was nice, despite my eyes constantly flicking down to her bosom and back up to her eyes. The wall behind her became of great interest to me after a while.

I wanted to ask about the frigid air I felt between her and my mother, and why she had left so abruptly and without even a hello to my aunt, but I didn’t think it wise to pry into a sensitive issue so soon.

Aunt Freya’s hand went to the insufficiently sized pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen twice, checking the time.

“I’m gonna head downstairs and get some food brewing in my cauldron.” She said, straightening up from where she was leaning against the wall.

“I promise I won’t slip any love potions into the brew. I may be a lonely old witch, but I’d never take advantage of a cute adventurer like yourself.”

I had grown accustomed to being complimented by her at this point, and the playful banter only made me smile instead of blushing furiously.

“It’s good see a witch breaking the stereotype! I’d be honored to dine in your hovel.” I said, playing along.

“Good! Once you’re finished settling in, come on down.” Still grinning, but now it had that sly, teasing element to it, and a fire flickered behind her eyes.

“But you might want to leave those wandering eyes up here amongst your belongings. You wouldn’t want to tempt the hag into dastardly schemes.” She winked and disappeared through the door.

I felt frozen to the spot. Fucking up the first impressions was a habit of mine, but this one felt extra bad. Sure, she didn’t seem awfully upset by it, but some people were good at keeping that friendly vibe up, even when they weren’t feeling all to kind within themselves.

But… I was thinking about her calling me cute throughout our conversation. There’s no way she could be upset with me and still complimenting me, right? Maybe she was mocking me? Some people had called me cute before but I sure didn’t see it. Maybe she didn’t see it either, and was sensing my insecurity and using it to… to what? Just to fuck with me? That seemed a little too conniving even for me to believe.

I decided to take her words and expressions at face value and shut my irrational, insecure thoughts up for now. So, she noticed me staring and tactfully reprimanded me without straining relations. That was awfully understanding of her. I should just get my shit together and be respectful.

After a few minutes to gather my thoughts and shed the embarrassment I was feeling, I joined her in the kitchen to share our first meal together.

Over the course of the next week, my comfort around my aunt fluctuated. Our conversations were warm and playful, but I was still plagued with my ‘wandering eyes’ as she had called them. I was able to minimize their appearances by masturbating each and every night, but my thoughts were slowly but surely turning towards Aunt Freya’s body as I neared and achieved orgasm. My shame grew, and I was worried it was becoming apparent in my expressions.

Through it all, she kept calling me a cutie, and I kept trying to see it in the mirror. From certain angles I felt like I actually had some appealing features, but in others I felt like the ugliest creature to plague the earth with its presence. Still, her words were really affecting me, and I felt myself allowing some confidence to flow through me.

These emotions seem very conflicting, and they absolutely were. As much as I was enjoying my new relationship with my aunt, it was sure pushing me to some difficult places in my mind that I was being forced to sit in and examine at all times.

It was a very tumultuous state of mind, but it all fell away when I had my cock in my hand, spraying all my lusty thoughts onto towels and tissues. Sometimes I would be repeating in my mind “Aunt Freya, Aunt Freya, oh FUCK… AUNTIE FREYA!” I could see her body in my mind, urging me to indulge in depravity, and when I thought of her staring into my eyes as I was gyrating, climbing to the peak, it would push me right over the edge.

This continued as school began, and I felt like it was distracting me from my studies. The idea that masturbating was feeding into my feelings toward my own aunt occurred to me, and I considered quitting masturbation entirely, at least while under her roof. That idea kept crumbling the very moment my balls unleashed spurt after spurt, night after night.

It came to a climax (ha ha) one night, about a month into my stay. I was lying in bed, stiff erection in hand, really getting into things, when I heard a sharp knock at the door. My heart instantly flew into a frantic, fearful rhythm. I couldn’t really speak at first, which didn’t really matter, as she spoke before I had the chance.

“You… really shouldn’t be moaning my name while you touch yourself. It… isn’t right.”

This was not a playful tone. And… was I actually saying her name out loud? I thought it was just in my head? What the fuck?

I only managed a soft squeak of “ok.”

Her footsteps receded and I felt my soul leave my body. I was suddenly soft and shriveled, in my heart as well as between my legs.

After I finished crying from unfiltered mortification, I decided it was time to quit masturbating to my aunt… or even at all. She was right. This was wrong. It was more than wrong. It was perverted and so far beyond fucked up that I wasn’t sure I could look myself in the eye the next morning.

As it turned out, I couldn’t. Fortunately, I didn’t need to worry about looking Aunt Freya in the eye because she wasn’t home. I prepared myself for school with solemn determination to henceforth not allow myself to violate my aunt in my thoughts.

This proved to be futile.

One day, a month after she caught me fantasizing about her, I came home from school, dead tired. The hours had seemed to drag on and on and on. College was a drag, but maybe that was my own fault.

During the lectures, I couldn’t keep focused. My mind kept wandering to images of Aunt Freya – her breasts trapped behind her bra, just briefly visible as she was pulling a shirt over her head – her large behind through her jeans when she was staring out the window – but mostly, I thought of her mischievous eyes. They seemed to always know what was happening inside you. It was like she was in on your secrets and would use them to taunt you.

My jeans were too tight. I could feel my cock stiffening repeatedly throughout the day. My skin burned, like it was giving off a scorching heat in my pants, and my briefs were getting soaked with my precum. It was like I had been wandering in a desert, swallowed in a whirling haze of lust for days on end, and now it was reaching a peak.

My will to resist touching myself was faltering. I was determined to hold on for at least another day, but my intensifying lusts were fighting me with all their strength, and they were strong.

The lock accepted my key with a click and clack when I turned it, and I opened the door to see my aunt bent over the sink, scrubbing at dishes. She was wearing her tight green sweater and her tighter brown jeans. Even in the middle of chores, she was gorgeous. I could never get over it.

When she looked up at me, I could see a stern look in her eyes. Clearly something was bothering her, and there was no playfulness today. I decided I would just tread lightly.

She had corrected my gaze multiple times recently, and I could feel her amusement with my infatuation fading away. Maybe she was actually upset with me this time. At least, that was what I thought at the time.

“Macaroni and cheese.” She said, tilting her head towards the table behind her. “Get it while it’s hot.”

It was said without emotion, as if it was just business.

Not wanting to rouse her anger, I took a seat at the table where a bowl and fork were waiting for me. While I scooped the food into the bowl, I kept glancing at her ass. Diverting my eyes was becoming frustratingly difficult now, but it was at eye level, right in front of me.

My internal resistance failed and I let my eyes molest her body. I felt shame like I can’t express. Auntie Freya was kind enough to let me stay in her home, and I was such a weak, horny mess that I couldn’t keep from objectifying her. It was wrong, not just because of the harassing stare, but because she was family. My own aunt. My mother’s sister. It was so fucked up, but my lust just wouldn’t subside.

The fork lifted macaroni noodles to my lips, and I ate slowly, ashamed at my submission to my own perversion. Of course, the entire time I ate my eyes were locked onto her behind. I was imagining walking up behind my aunt and pressing my erection against her, grinding my hips against her thick ass and wrapping my arms around her, humping until I sprayed a line of white cum all up the back of her sweater while moaning her name over and over.

My fantasy was ripped away when Freya slammed a now spotless spoon onto the counter top, the sound shattering my daze.

She turned to face me, her arms folded beneath her large breasts. My foggy brain was caught off guard when she locked her fiery eyes onto mine. I expected a scolding, and that was exactly what I got, just not in the way I anticipated.

“I can feel your eyes all over me.”

Her tone expressed her anger quite clearly. This wasn’t disappointment in me. That was a tone I was quite familiar with in a scolding. This was the anger of one adult to another. My aunt wasn’t treating me like a little boy here. We were equals, and she was pissed.

“You quit masturbating, didn’t you?”

Of course she knew about that. I had apparently not been as stealthy as I tried to be, so she would know from the lack of moans that I was abstaining. While I had thought that was the correct thing to do, I had clearly been mistaken, and I was realizing that as I withered under her fury.

Still, I was stunned by her words. No one had ever spoken to me so frankly about private matters, and it was jarring. I know my eyes revealed my surprise at her question, and I blurted out.

“Um… what?”

I wasn’t denying or attempting to refute the point, I just couldn’t quite believe my ears. Freya continued.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. I know boys well enough to know when they’re pent up. You’re clearly frustrated. I don’t know why you aren’t taking care of it yourself, but it’s time you do. You should know better by now, especially because you can’t keep your eyes to yourself. I’m your aunt for fuck’s sake.”

Her volume rose as she spoke, until she was nearly yelling. To be truthful, I was very frightened. My aunt was speaking with such bluntness about something so private, and she was cursing at me. My world felt like it had inverted the very moment I stepped through the door. I was speechless.

“Don’t just sit there looking flabbergasted, you need to…”

Her green eyes went to the ceiling for a moment and she drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh, trying to calm herself. There was a terrifying number of seconds before Aunt Freya continued, her voice now low and restrained, her eyes once again locked onto mine.

“You need to go empty your fucking balls right now.”

The words hung in the air. I couldn’t respond, not yet at least. My heart was pounding, and despite my wishes, an erection was coming to life in my pants yet again.

Those piercing green eyes never wavered, but mine did. I looked down, both ashamed and horrified. She hadn’t spoken those last words hesitantly. In fact, she had taken that breath to remain calm. She meant every word, and her composure was to ensure that I understood her sincerity. This wasn’t a fit of rage causing her to speak untruthfully. She was scolding me for… not masturbating, and she was telling me I needed to cum, and she wanted me to do it now.

“I-I…” My mouth was dry, choking my words. I swallowed and tried again. “Aunt Freya… I’m so sorry for-”

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to go cum until your balls are dry and then come back to me, now.”

She really emphasized the “now” in such a way that displayed a complete unwillingness to make this a discussion. It was an order, and it was non-negotiable.

Rubbery legs carried me to my feet, my eyes staring at the floor. As I rose, looking down, I noticed that I was at full mast, and it was straining forward against my jeans. I flung my hands down, pulling my waistband out, quickly tucking my shaft into it, then released, letting it press the erection against my groin. The embarrassment was more than I could bare, and I quickly removed myself from the kitchen, not quite running, but fleeing nonetheless.

Up the stairs I went, on the verge of tears but determined not to let them spill out.

What the fuck just happened?

It was a thought that would enter my head more than once that night.

Ten minutes later, my face was buried in my pillows, exactly where it had been after I first burst through the door. You would think that my mind was racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions as it had a tendency to do, but that’s not quite where I was mentally.

I was just feeling how god damn hard I was. My erection was pressed against the bed, and it wasn’t relenting. My hips had been gently grinding into the mattress, but I hadn’t noticed until now. It was leaking again, and I knew the front of my briefs would have one big dark wet patch in the front.

Sure, Aunt Freya was right. I knew that much. It was just… the thought of cumming in my bed (well, technically her bed since I was in her guest room) knowing that she was fully aware of what I was doing… It was mortifying.

But she was right. She was so right. If I hadn’t been trying to stop myself from masturbating to her, I wouldn’t have been so inclined to let my eyes glue themselves to the parts of her body that were arousing me. It wasn’t fair to her, so I had to do what she told me to do, not that my body was resisting. It was begging me to bring myself to an orgasm, so I relented and unzipped my pants.

It didn’t take long. Thinking back on it, I believe the thought that she knew I was touching myself that very second was actually what made me cum so quick. It was only two minutes, maybe three, before I was cumming into a dirty towel I pulled from the hamper in the corner. It was all I could do not to cry out in ecstasy. I wasn’t sure if she would be pleased with the sounds, so I just kept them in.

It was not easy.

Keeping all that cum inside me had brought my lust to a boil, and I thought I would never stop cumming. My cock was pulsing, burning in my hand while it pumped the white hot globs out of me. I lost count of the spurts, but it was definitely one of my longest orgasms. One for the record books, I guess.

When the fog broke, I was lying on my back, the towel to one side, my arms limp against the sheets, and my cock pulsating weakly against my stomach. There were soft vibrations still rolling through my body, but the “worst” has passed.

Now what?

Aunt Freya was waiting for me. She told me to come back to her after I came, but how could I? Was I supposed to waltz down the stairs, look her in the eye and go- “Hey Auntie! I just blew a huge load into one of your towels! What now?”

Do you remember when I said my mind should have been racing with conflicting emotions? Yeah. This was the part where that happened.

It took a while, and I’m not really sure how long, but when I stepped off the last stair and onto the ground floor, Aunt Freya was sitting at the table, her chair turned around so she could face me, a half empty bottle of wine at her side.

Neither of us spoke. My eyes kept flicking to the floor, then back to hers. She was staring at me so intensely, and she never broke contact. Her face was blank, and it was unnerving. There was no way to tell how she felt about me now. Was she disgusted? Was she ashamed of me? I can tell you now with certainty, at that moment, I was ashamed of myself more than enough for the both of us.

I just stood there, breathing softly, my hands pressed together. The fingers on my hands were fidgeting against one another, my anxiety on full display.

The lust was already coming back. I couldn’t quite force myself to keep eye contact with her, but I could stare at the kitchen tiles just fine. It was good, because if I had been able to look at her, I know my eyes would have drifted, and that was the last thing I wanted.

It was Aunt Freya who broke the silence. I just wanted to go to bed and maybe die in my sleep if I was lucky, but when she spoke, I knew that wouldn’t be happening. Not for a while at least.

“You aren’t finished.”

My heart sank.

Her tone was flat, without inflection. It was matter of fact. She was stating an observation to me.

“Look at me.”

I couldn’t.

Look at me.” This time she said it with some insistence.

I forced my eyes to meet hers. They were focused, locked onto me, gripping me like talons. Before, I couldn’t look her in the eye, but now, I couldn’t look away.

“Maybe you didn’t understand me. I guess that could be my fault.”

A sip of her wine.

“When I said to cum until your balls were dry, I meant-”

She leaned towards me slightly.

“-to cum. Until. Your balls. Are dry.”

I think it was at this point that my shame began to simmer out. The lust was out in the air now. No more secrets. I didn’t have anything left to hide. She could see into me. I knew that now. If she could be so honest and forward with me, then I should do the same, right? I think that’s fair.

“But I already came, Auntie. Like… a lot.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Cumming one time isn’t enough. With as long as you’ve been abstaining, I know with absolute certainty that you have more in there.”

“I… really don’t think so.” I said.

I was pushing, maybe a little too much. She wasn’t wrong, of course, but as I said, I was already dead tired when I came home, but now? After an orgasm like that? It’s a miracle I didn’t pass out right on the bed. I’m exaggerating, of course, but you understand me.

Aunt Freya sighed and stood up.

“I’m too tired to be upset right now.”

You and me both, I thought.

“But I’m not going to argue with you.”

She pulled a chair from the table, placed it between us, facing her. She indicated with her hand to sit down.

I thought this was the part where we would sit face to face and have a discussion about what our relationship would be, moving forward. You see, I was under the impression that her unwillingness to argue was her relenting to me. But I was wrong.

I sat down across from her, my hands together in my lap. As I sat, she lifted her glass again, swallowed until it was empty, and set it down on the table gently. She pushed it away, then reached toward me with one hand.

It gripped the waistline of my pants, and she pulled me toward her. The chairs were of equal height, so while the positioning was a little awkward, she was able to undo my jeans and have my briefs dragged down below my balls before I even knew what was happening.

She had just exposed me to her, without asking.

“Wha- Hey!” I protested.

My hand reflexively gripped hers to try to pull it away, but she used her other hand to slap mine away. At the same moment, she squeezed around the base of my cock and stroked upward. When she reached the tip, her fingers released the pressure, and her hand went again to the base, where she squeezed and stroked upward.

“Auntie…”

I meant to say it in admonishment, but it came out in a soft sigh. My legs widened and I leaned back in my seat.

“Uh huh, that’s right. If you’re gonna undress me with your eyes and violate me, then I’ll violate you right back.”

She was looking down at me. My eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure and my mouth was hanging open slightly.

That fire in her eyes had returned. She was enjoying this for just the reasons she had stated. This was my comeuppance, and I knew I deserved it. I also knew that I should stop her, that this was wrong. I couldn’t let my aunt jerk me off. What the fuck was I doing? She was more or less sexually assaulting me and I was just letting it happen.

Then I throbbed hard in her hands, and my body relaxed as my head clouded.

“That’s a good boy.” She cooed.

Oh my god she’s fucking milking me. I thought, and she really was.

That squeezing and pulling upward really felt like a milking. Maybe it was degrading, but… really it just felt good.

I heard what sounded like soft whimpers, and realized it was me. My cock was pulsating in her hand, and my hips were pushing upward in time with her strokes. This ceased when she pressed her other hand against my groin, beneath my navel, and pushed me tight to the chair.

This was really happening.

My hips fought with her, trying to thrust upward into her hand. The muscles in her arm strained as she held me down and continued pumping my shaft. I was squirming in my seat, becoming overwhelmed with the pleasure and faint traces of revulsion.

For a few seconds, she let my cock go. I didn’t want her to. Her hands were soft, and her touch made sparks fly through my body. At first I didn’t want it, but now… it was all I wanted.

In the haze, I had just enough clarity to notice that she had grabbed a bottle of vegetable oil from the shelf next to her. She had to lean to reach it, but she was able to remain in her chair. Maybe she wanted it to speed things along, or maybe… maybe she was enjoying making me feel this good.

Maybe.

It’s a good thing I noticed, because when she slathered the oil all over her hands, and resumed jerking me off, the pleasure tripled in an instant. I shuddered fiercely at the touch, now allowing myself to hold her predatory gaze.

At this point, all the barriers were broken. The taboo was gone and burned to ashes, and even the ashes were blown away. When I was cumming in my room, I had suppressed my moans and sighs to keep her from hearing it. But right now she was the one giving me pleasure. She was the one who’s hand was on my shaft, pumping and corkscrewing up and down. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing Mattered anymore. Fuck it.

“Fuuuuuuu-uuck.” My breathing hitched in the middle of the lustful exclamation.

“Auntie Freya… oh god.”

She let out a quick laugh. Oh yeah, she was definitely enjoying this.

“That’s right, you dirty fucking boy. I’m gonna make you cum. I’m gonna make you cuuuuumyeahhhhhhh.”

The last words were strung together in a purr, vibrating through her chest when it vocalized. Her breathing was quickening now too. With both hands twisting and turning and tugging on my cock, she was really getting into it.

My god, was I throbbing. I could feel the pulses deepening, and my hips pushed up again. This time she didn’t have a free hand to push me down with, so she just moved her hands with me.

“Is this what you wanted? Huh?”

She was teasing me – taunting me.

“Did you have filthy fucking fantasies of your Auntie Freya making you cum all over the place?”

Well… yeah. I did. But I couldn’t really speak many coherent thoughts at that moment. All that was coming out of my mouth was expressions of desperate pleasure.

She had pulled me onto her lap, my legs spread around her, my arms beneath me on the seat of my chair, holding me up. Her legs were wrapped around the legs of my chair, keeping it pulled close so that it wouldn’t slide out from under me.

The orgasm was fast approaching. My exclamations were running together. There was a lot of “Oh my god” and “fuuuuck.” I had never cursed in front of my aunt before but, like I already said – fuck it.

“We’re gonna wring all that cum out of your balls, just like I said, aren’t we?”

I didn’t give her a direct answer, not that it mattered. A rhetorical question, by nature, does not call for a response. But she wasn’t wrong.

“Auntie! Auntie! Aunt Freya! Oh my fucking god!”

It was here. In just a matter of seconds I was going to be spraying cum into the air, all over myself and my aunt. It felt so wrong but really, it just felt really fucking good.

“Uhhhh-hhh I’m… cumming…” It came out in a low sigh as I lost control of my body and surrendered fully to her touch.

“That’s right! Show me what you do when you’re all alone, thinking about me. Show Auntie how much you can cum!”

It was a lot. I had thought the first orgasm I had was intense, but this was another level up, maybe even two or three.

At first, my cum leaked slowly from the tip. The pulsations that cause the semen to burst into the air hadn’t begun, but the dam broke and the reservoir was already draining. Then it started spurting and spraying.

“There it is! Oh fuck yeah, there it is!”

I hardly even heard her. I was already crying out myself, wordless moaning and panting. My cum shot through the air in long ropes, splashing onto Aunt Freya’s sweater, the chair, my own shirt, the floor, and even the fucking walls. I was certainly in awe of the amount, but my aunt seemed to know just how much she could get out of me.

She was squeezing and milking upwards in time with each shot, really accentuating each burst. She expertly guided me into and through the release, then back down as my hips fell down onto her lap.

When nothing more was coming out, she put the palm of her hand flat against my balls and moved in circular motions, massaging them after their heroic exertion. Now I was purring myself.

For the second time that night, I had that thought.

What the fuck just happened?

My face was toasty and warm, my cheeks were red. Through the blur, my eyes were trying to focus on Aunt Freya. She was looking at my slowly diminishing erection, still rubbing it all the way down into its slumber.

Without looking away from it, she spoke.

“You’re not finished yet. With as much cum as you just shot, there’s bound to be more trapped in those balls.”

She gave them a light slap on the side. I twitched a little, but the pain was almost pleasing. If she wanted to keep making me cum like that, I was all for it.

I sighed.

“Auntie.”

She smiled.

“Yes baby, Auntie Freya is here, and she’s gonna keep making you cum until you’re empty.”

She was silent for a minute. It was a comfortable silence, only broken by the wet sounds of her hands still kneading my genitals.

“Maybe I don’t mind it so much when your eyes are undressing me. Maybe I just played it up.”

I was puzzled.

“Huh? Why?”

Her nails dragged down my stomach, not breaking skin but certainly not painless either.

“Because I’ve been masturbating to you too. I just don’t have the gall to stare at your crotch all day, do I?”

It made sense to me now. She wasn’t mad at me for eyeing her up all the time. She was mad at herself for enjoying it. I still don’t think she ever felt shame to the depth I did, but I know it was in there somewhere, and when she had finally had enough, she tried to get me to solve the problem by draining my balls on my own.

When I came back down the stairs after cumming, the wine went to her head and she just gave into her own perverted thoughts anyway. They must have been building as she imagined me touching myself.

Inwardly, I wondered what would happen if my mother knew what my aunt had just done to me. She had trusted Freya to keep me safe, despite whatever differences they had, but I didn’t doubt that mom might fly into a rage like I had never seen if she were to walk in on us right now. If she were to walk in and see… see my aunt still engaging in a filthy taboo with her son…

The idea was actually exciting me. My cock was starting to stiffen again, and my aunt was resuming the milking motions, coaxing me back into arousal. I could really get used to the feeling of my aunt’s hands all over me.

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