The glorious Miss Irene Clearmont brings you a tale of the 1970’s and a nephew with a strict aunt.
A VERY strict and VERY dominant aunt!
The feeling was one of pent emotion, a need for release, a need to come, elation and anticipation at what was to come. Edward slid his hand into the brown paper bag and slid the first magazine into view. A copy of Penthouse, heavy and glossy it came into view. A beauty in a black shiny dress, flaunting herself, making Edward’s cock spring to attention. His trembling hands opened the pages and he found himself gazing at the cover model posing in a luxurious bedroom, exhibiting herself… it was almost as if she were there…
Edward’s hands fumbled with the top of his pyjamas and freed himself to stand tall under the sheets. Now he was faced with a dilemma, every time he attended to that straining cock, the magazine threatened to slip from his knees, every time that he turned a page, his cock cried out for attention. He fumbled the magazine in his hands and dropped it to the floor with a curse. The folded tissues on the bedside table fluttered to the carpet and he reached down to collect them. As his hand collected the tissues and the magazine the bedroom door opened and Edward heard his Aunt’s voice.
“Breakfast will be in ten minutes,” she said as she looked at the young man who was half on the bed and half off it in his panic and she chuckled. “Beans on toast…”
Edward pushed the copy of Penthouse under the bed and pulled up the tissues to blow his nose into them, pulling up the coverlet and breathing a sigh of relief that she had not opened the door a minute later.
“I’ll be down,” he muttered in her direction.
The door closed. Edward’s heart pounded in his ears, he had been so close to being caught, so very close! Now his proud prick was shriveled between his legs and all the arousal in his mind had been swept away by the close call. He tossed the tissues to the floor and slipped out of the bed. The important thing was, he decided, that he had not been caught in flagrante. His Aunty Hannah had been so close to seeing his morning wank.
Edward slipped the magazine back into the bag and buried it deep in the open suitcase that lay on the floor. By the time that he was dressed and heading downstairs his heartbeat had returned to normal. He could hear her in the kitchen, the rattle of cutlery and the noise that the toaster made as it sprang to attention.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” she asked as he entered the kitchen. “Tomorrow’s the big day…”
“I thought that I’d go into the city centre,” he replied as he took a seat at the huge kitchen table. “You know, look around a bit and see what’s what.”
“Mm,” said Hannah as she buttered the toast and poured on the beans. “Museums and the tourist traps?”
“Yeah, that sort of thing.”
Edward thanked Hannah as she slid the plate in front of him and turned to pour the tea.
“The open-day is tomorrow,” said Hannah unnecessarily. “All prepared?”
“I have everything ready,” said Edward. “Brunel Uni is not my first choice, but I have to be ready in case my marks are not very good.”
“Oxford would be better…”
“Yeah, but I need three A’s and that’s just to get into their entrance exam.”
Aunt Hannah sat down to join Edward and watched him eating. Her older sister had arranged the week in London for her son to visit his second choice of university. In his cheesecloth shirt and faded jeans, he already looked the part of a typical sociology student. In a year, he would be joining the limp protests against the apartheid in South Africa or some other nonsense, in ten he would be a civil servant, married with children, in twenty years he would be so middle class it would hurt. She sighed and smiled at the thought of the guilt on his face as she had caught him playing with himself.
“You can do it, of course,” she said reassuringly. “And, if you fail, then you can stay here and save a packet on the halls of residence.”
“Thanks,” said Edward. “Fingers crossed…”
‘Fingers crossed that I’ll get the place at Oxford and not have to stay with Aunty Hannah’, he thought to himself.