Dirty Boy – 2

I couldn’t speak when I found her. My aunt was in her bedroom and, despite my enthusiasm and flaming desire, my nerve failed when I saw her.

When I arrived, holding my jeans up at my waist, Aunt Janet was dabbing at the mess on her skirt. She was busy and didn’t notice my presence So I just stood there, staring, insides swirling like a washing machine until my aunt looked up.

Her eyes held my gaze and, while my aunt stared back at me, time seemed to lose all definition. Reality turned elastic, all of a sudden. Seconds or minutes. Days, weeks, or years. I have no idea how long we stayed that way. Both of us just looking across the surreal expanse of space-time between us. I wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

Aunt Janet stood with a hand towel balled in her fist, cum on her skirt, the gloopy string drying in her hair.

After an eternity, I saw Janet’s throat work as she swallowed heavily. Then she said, “Got a bit carried away, didn’t we?”

I wasn’t sure what she meant. To my ears it sounded ambiguous. Was she saying she regretted what had happened between us, or was she just making light of it out of embarrassment?

While I struggled to formulate some response, my aunt went on. She asked, “How do you feel?”

I didn’t have an answer and, the end, I just shrugged and gave a shake of my head.

I saw fear in her eyes when Janet said, “Do you hate me?”

The question made me blink because amid all the surprise and confusion and other stuff going on, hate was the furthest emotion away from what I felt at that time.

It took some doing, but I got the words out after a bit of an effort. “No, Aunt Janet,” I said.

It got awkward after that. I felt silly and self-conscious. I wanted more but didn’t have the confidence to just go in and grab her. My aunt was in her late thirties, a year or two younger than my mother while I was nineteen. Experience on my part was a limited commodity, and that lack of worldly knowledge had a bearing on my response. I wasn’t sure what Aunt Janet was thinking, how she might react if I did or said something wrong.

Eventually, my aunt gave me a half-smile, a rueful grin before she said, “Do you want to come in?” When I didn’t move, she added, “You might as well, Mikey. You’re making the place look untidy. And I suppose we’re going to have to talk about it at some point.” My aunt shrugged. “Might as well be now.”

So I stepped into her bedroom, unsure, trepidation and lust a curious mix sloshing around.

***

We sat on her bed, side-by-side. Not as close as we’d been in my room, but close enough so that the same sensations welled inside me. I might have only just come, but my cock was thick and capable, pumped up with need.

“So, tell me, Mikey, did you … uhm … enjoy what went on?”

It was strange to see my aunt so unsure, but desire saw me through any uncertainty on my part.

“It was fantastic, Aunt Janet,” I gasped.

My aunt pouted and said, “But don’t you think it’s a bit wrong? Well, a lot wrong,” she went on with a wry chuckle. “You know, me being who I am. What just happened isn’t what people are supposed to do. We’re family, Mikey.” Aunt Janet barked a laugh, the sound startling me. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself,” she told me. “I don’t know, Mikey; I think I might be a little bit touched in the head. I got carried away. Went a bit crazy, I suppose.”

“Are you sorry, Aunt Janet?”

She paused and looked to be thinking about it. “I wouldn’t say I’m sorry about it, Mikey. Surprised at myself, yes. Worried about you talking about it to anyone else, too. If it got out–”

I blurted out, “I won’t say anything,” stopping her short.

My aunt pulled a face and looked doubtful. “I’m sure you mean it, but these things do have a tendency to trip us up. After a couple of drinks, when it doesn’t seem to matter. You might be talking to one of your friends…”

“Aunt Janet, I won’t,” I said, emphatic. I remembered the look on her face, her focused enthusiasm and, on a rush of excitement, asked, “Did you enjoy it?”

I gulped and felt the dark urges rise up in a hot tide at the tone in her voice when, after a pause, she croaked, “It turned me on so much, Mikey. Your lovely cock … All that spunk … The noises you made.”

To hear my aunt say “cock” and “spunk” caused yet another pulse of desire through my dick. Regardless of what had already passed between us, it was still weird to hear her use those bad words.

“I liked it, too,” I said, need making me bold. “Really liked it, Aunt Janet.”

“I saw,” she said, her tone heavy with need.

The sentences gurgled out of me like filthy water down a drain. “I want more, Aunt Janet,” I said. “I want to do things with you.”

***

At first I thought I’d said something wrong. My aunt’s focus flicked away from me. She chewed on her lower lip, expression distant and distracted, like she was thinking. She gulped, throat working, her attention going to the door.

Then she looked at me and asked, “Do you know how serious that would be, Mikey?”

“Serious?