Aunt Nancy
V 1 / Ch 23
A Storm Brews
Rough night. Hardly any sleep. Couldn't leave it alone. Tried to fall asleep, but it all kept coming back to an incessant want to suck on my Aunt Nancy some more. And hold her big things. And see how huge her juggernauts looked when she dangled them right over my face. These thoughts wouldn't leave me. She'd done it now a few times, and in short order had rendered me an addict. Perhaps I would have become one anyway, without my Aunt Nancy. Maybe in my late teens or early 20s, I would have discovered this about myself. But my Aunt had fleshed it out early, I believe, and brought it full-forth, into the limelight of my consciousness and being, at a relatively early age.
For years before this particular time I speak of, I'd only had her pictures to look at, and now she was feeding me directly, for real, from the things growing out of her chest which had been getting larger and larger all that earlier time, as each year of the pictures had gone by. I'd kept most of those pictures to myself, hidden away in my bedroom - keeping those more revealing ones away from my mother - and I'd developed many a before-sleep hard kid-boner, night after night, thinking of how I could tell that she'd been becoming more and more developed, and I'd suspected, or at least hoped, that she'd wanted me to know that about herself, that she'd secretly known I was so into and captivated by her breastial bosomry, and because her breasts were indeed growing ever larger, even though we lived a continent away from each other, she still needed me to know of this change, and had sought to communicate it to me, not by words, but by her rather alluring pictures, even though she was fully dressed in them at all times.
I couldn't help running through what had just happened that particular night. With the two buttons both buttoned, perhaps she hadn't planned on letting me have any of her. Maybe she had just wanted me to put my thoughts and my obvious wantings for those sorts of things - her big heavy tit things - aside, since I really did, after all, have to concentrate the whole next day, to study, for finals to be given the following day, on Monday. And being overly distracted would not help, at all.
Maybe I was just overthinking it. Maybe she'd tried just one button, in preparation to come see me, out of sight of Uncle Rich, but found that just one button wasn't enough, because too much of her tittage would still yet be showing, either above or below it. So she buttoned a second one. To placate, at a minimum, standards of propriety expected of a woman in her 30s w/huge bosoms who was about to go kiss her nephew good night. In retrospect, I should have felt fortunate that she hadn't shown up with all the buttons buttoned.
Of course, I really wished she'd proceeded down that silky luscious rabbit hole, where all the buttons would be undone, and she'd let gravity cause a large swollen nipple to slip thickly into my mouth. Or, perhaps, in front of Uncle Rich, upstairs, in their bedroom, before coming to tuck me in, she did have all or most of the buttons buttoned, and then on the way down the stairs, she'd unbuttoned all but two, because she fully knew how much I adored staring point blank at her big unruly chest, and how much I liked to succulate on her erectified big thick nipples.
I wondered, too, if Uncle Rich, as he watched her drape his shirt around her massive breasts, in her preparations to come tuck me in, had any inkling, or any idea at all, that soon she might be suckling me to those unusually large breasts. Did he even bother to consider the possibility that his wife would in mere minutes be parting the lapels on that shirt of his, to expose to their 13 year old nephew, her massive unbridled breastage, so as to reveal to the boy's easily impressionable young mind the awesome wonder and power of her unusually large breasticulousness?
I doubted it. It just wasn't something you heard about much, or at all; yet right under his nose, it was in fact, actually being done. His wife had decided to not only bare her breasts to me, but to also feed them to me. She had apparently come to some decision to willfully expose to me her power, and had deigned to succulate me to it, and I suppose in addition to filling some need of hers to nourish and provide comfort and succor, to me, that it all satisfied her as well, on various different levels, to expose her breasts to me and then see me hungrily and ravenously feed upon them.
And then, that night, after Uncle Rich had yelled down to her, where his tone of voice belied a suspicion that we - as in, my aunt and I - were perhaps, possibly?, up to no good, my aunt had minutes later, perhaps as a return salvo to his suspicious tone of voice, marshalled her breastial powers, so as to intentionally bust a button right off of his shirt. Perhaps she actually thought him a fool, without actually coming right out and saying it.
What was crazy, too, was how her nipples, and the conicular dark pink hemispheres upon which they spawned, had, in those moments, become suddenly, so large, so thick, so out. How did she do that, I wondered. Could she, or did she, do it on purpose? Or did it just happen when she got riled up like that, involuntarily and subconsciously?
Finally, I fell asleep about 4 am. The next day went fast. Woke up about 9, sat up in bed, and saw the drawn candle on the night table, and the defeated, popped, shirt button next to it, exactly where she'd put it. I recalled what happened, remembering how it got there. I remembered seeing it fly, and how her shirt suddenly parted, as it snapped apart where it'd vacated its responsibilities. My aunt's breasts took over the asylum, while her ruggedly large nipples and areola, out of nowhere, suddenly grew ferociously outwards into the fabric, inches above the shirt's bottom hem, in a sense, denoting how her suppressed eroticism was making a bold response to my uncle's suspiciously sounding inquiry.
I'd become convinced, in those moments, that he was personally no match for her. She had already won, in other words. She, and her mind, and her awesome breasticular power, had defeated him. Concomitantly, she'd begun the engagement of succulating her 13 year old nephew to her massive tits. Who knows what would happen next. I was afraid to think about it.
And so on that cloudy early June Sunday morning, they were on their way to visit Gordon's grandmother, a/k/a my uncle's mother. I wondered what my Aunt Nancy was wearing. Would she have dressed demurely, or would she have allowed the form of her breastial largesse to be exposed, to my uncle, my cousin, and the world. Would she taunt my uncle with her growing power, or would she dress in such a way as to show an appearance of subservience, and cooperation, of dialing down her increasing bustiality.
And of course, a silent fear I had, spawning in me, was that he would, in time, perhaps today, perhaps a month from now, succumb to her, and he'd become the one she'd deign to suckle her developing mammarosity, so as to replace my services to her, in that department of her needs - which he should, I admitted, be the one for that, anyway, and not me.
Pele' was off, staying with her sister downtown, and Emjay was gone, rarely in sight on Sundays. I had a bowl of cereal up in the kitchen and then was back in my room to hit the books. All went swell till around 2pm when I felt antsy, and decided to go out on the pool deck for some sun. I heard slight sounds of humming coming from next door, over towards Jane's house, so I went to the secret alcove passageway mid-way down the yard, along the pine tree twelve foot hedge wall, and once inside the passage, paused.
I could see Jane very well from there, with earphone plugs in, rearranging pool patio furniture, straightening up, and whatnot. It was sunny out, in the low 70s. She wore old blue jeans cut off at upper thigh, was barefoot and had a red bikini top on. At first, I was just going to saunter right into the yard, and say hello - I mean, we were friends - but something told me not to. Ever since learning to watch my aunt swim, and prance about the pool deck late at night, believing she was unseen, while I watched hidden, I'd apparently tapped some innate desire within myself, to watch, to voyeur, to spy. I obtained some fascination and delight in it, especially if the subject was female. And so at these moments, seeing Jane, oblivious to my presence, wearing an obviously too-small bikini top, I paused, crouched, wearing my dark green t-shirt, and watched, while hidden. With large story size hedges and trees on both sides of her house, she'd no reason to believe she was being watched.
She looked older, older than me, I concluded, and older than the kids I was used to seeing in my grade. I was just finishing up at school - 8th grade, while she was just finishing up 9th. I'd last seen her at the Hiscox sleep out party, and I'd laid with her in that tent for a few hours, and kissed her, and felt her, but today, in the daylight, by herself, plain as day, she just looked older. And bigger. Her chest seemed even larger. Was I seeing things? But with that too small red bikini top on, she showing fatty white tit on top of the cups, below them, and to the sides, and the bikini top looking so stressed and uncomfortably tight on her, I was starting to get an erection. She was moving patio chairs around, and then sweeping, humming to her earphones.
Then she stopped, stood the broom to stand against the house, had one hand on a hip to survey her work, and while humming, began to dance. She gradually danced her way out into the center of the patio, and just started getting into it, big time, wildly - I supposed, carefree, believing no one was watching, strutting at times like when wearing high heels, and prominently sticking her chest out, amazingly so, for in no way was she small there, like most of the rest of the girls my age and hers were. She'd surely grown a woman's bust by this point, 14 going on 15, larger than average, and the little kiddy girl bikini top she'd been used to wearing, was in no way suited to her big-girl large-bust now. She had, by then, I concluded, superseded the D cup arena and had grown into the regions beyond it. Even if her breast growth were to come to a complete stop then, she'd still always be known as big-busted.
I just crouched, watched in amazement, and felt my erection stiffen. Finally, I heard her mother yell "Jane!" and the girl stopped, frozen, then slowly and dejectedly walked back inside her house. I thought about that red bikini top coming off, and how delicious it would be to stare at and suck on her big ones. Still, I doubted such a thing would ever happen. She was too young I thought, and would be reluctant to reduce herself and just bare herself to my lust, being from a kid even younger than her. For me, it'd be simply too good to be true.
I quietly walked back to the house and did another few hours studying and then could simply study no more.
I made a frozen pizza, ate it, felt lonely, watched some TV in the porch den, and went to bed. I was asleep when they came home and only have vague memories of my aunt checking on me. The next day I woke early, studied an hour, went to school, spent five hours taking tests, and did fine. I was confident that I at least passed, and wouldn't be held back a year. Done!
My aunt and uncle were still at work when I got home and Gordon was in the den eating potato chips and watching TV with Emjay. Pele' was in the kitchen making dinner. I still felt uncomfortable around Gordon. An instant friendship, it wasn't. He was quiet and moody, not that I was any life of the party, and I just got the feeling he kept wishing he were somewhere else. Another two weeks and he'd be off to his summer camp. So be it.
I was antsy and so put my swimsuit on and did some laps. I kept thinking about Jane, how the next day, I'd see her. I was looking forward to it.
I had to be careful because as I was swimming I was starting to get a hard on, thinking about her red bikini top. She certainly hadn't been that big some several days, or was it weeks, ago, at the Hiscox party in their backyard. I'd lost track of time. She was big then but not like I'd seen just yesterday. Had she done all that growing in so short a time?
When I finished swimming laps, there was Gordon, street clothes on, watching me, sitting in a chair. As I toweled off, he said, "I just thought someone ought to be down here watching, you know, just in case."
"Nice of you," I said. He had that weird half-smirk on, that I just couldn't figure out. Or maybe he was just trying to figure me out. "Dinner's on," he said. "Cool," I said.
My aunt decided to celebrate the end of the school year with a big dinner for everyone - me, her, Uncle Rich, Emjay, Pele, and Gordon - in the dining room. We celebrated with Pinot Grigio and Gordon and I were allowed a glass. The mood was light and for the first time since I'd moved there I began to feel as if, after all, everything was going to be alright, despite the fact my uncle's wife, my aunt, and the lady of the house, had been succulating me lately, and was surely well aware that when she did so, my budding, pointing, organ got rock hard.
Aunt Nancy wore a many-colored bohemian summer skirt (which bordered on times at see-through revealing hints of her dark colored bikini panties), tan sandals, and a snug thick threaded maroon top. It was apparent she had a bra on, and there was definitely no attempt, this evening, to hide her bustial largesse. Occasionally, there was the broad outline of a hint of beginning nipple impression, into the threads, out of the apex of the paradoxically bright white bra cups she wore, and then it would subside and be perfectly smooth there again. Still, there was no doubt, with her bold darkly shaded solid-colored top, with thick slightly spaced-apart thick threads, and obviously see-able bright white full cupped bra underneath, that she was not attempting in the least to hide her obvious, growing massiveness. I am sure any visitor to the table that night would have formed in their mind thoughts to the effect of, "Jeez that woman sure does have a set."
My aunt and Pele' both served, going back and forth to the kitchen - plates of roast beef, potatoes, green beans, and salad. My aunt sat at the far end, my uncle at the other end. I sat on the far side, nearest my aunt, while Gordon sat next to me, near his father. Across from Gordon and I sat Emjay and Pele'.
At the table sitting ladylike and erect, my aunt's bust showed prominently, being all bra'd up with a full cup bra covered by a close form fitting thick sweater. It was as if dessert was constantly on display, long before the real dessert was to be served. Though I tried not to stare, I couldn't help but imagine the large conical outswell of her big areolae, pushing and struggling against the insides of those bra cups. I practically reveled in the secret knowledge that I'd tasted my aunt there, and licked and sucked on her, and gazed profoundly at her female voluptuousness.
Thinking about her like that, I reflected to myself, was my personal reward for having finally finished the school year. Now and then my aunt smiled lovingly at me, and even winked once. I imagined the wink to mean, "I love it when you suck on my big tits, and I just can't wait for you to do it again." It was our dark little secret. She'd taken me into her home and not long after had begun succulating me when no one else was around.
All was polite; Gordon made no facetious remarks, and Uncle Rich seemed to be going with the flow. Likewise, my Aunt Nancy - though I've never been able to tell if this was a purely voluntary act or not - saw fit to hold the full potential of her pronounced and volatile nipple erectivity in check. Meanwhile, our dinner discussion was sanguine and jovial. We talked mainly about 9-1-1, and the country possibly going to war. Meanwhile, everyone it seemed, according to my Uncle Rich, was getting cell phones. Uncle Rich said he was looking into getting a "family plan" through Verizon, so that everyone could have a phone. "Cool!" Gordon said. All his friends, apparently, already had them at school.
Tidbits of new information were gleaned as well. For example, I found out that Emjay had many talents, besides keeping our house running efficiently. He was a 3rd degree blackbelt, and 2-3 days a week assisted downtown at a karate dojo. He was also a certified masseuse, and maintained a small practice, and workout dijou, in the basement of his house across the yard. Most importantly, my uncle divulged to both Gordon and me, though not before asking Emjay's permission, that Emjay was in no way mute. He could speak, in other words. My eyes widened at this revelation. But, as per his personal ethics, discipline, and spiritual habits, speaking was for him a personal luxury not to be mis-used, and so, consequently, he did so only in rare moments. I looked at Emjay. He merely stared downward in apparent respect and humility. Cool, I thought.
My uncle suggested Gordon and I go visit him Wednesday - and he might even give us a karate lesson in his below ground dijou, my uncle said, winking, if we showed up at noon. Gordon and I both went "Yeah!" Emjay smiled politely.
Meanwhile, as to my aunt, and Jane, I began to consider, as the dinner progressed, that perhaps, I ought not be saddled with what felt more and more like unnatural, wild and crazy desires, but there they were all the same. Just as with the elephant in the room, at the Hiscox backyard camp out, being Jane, with her suddenly adult looking knockers, quite easily and suddenly more developed than any other girl at that kids-in-the-neighborhood gathering, so it was that evening, at dinner, with my aunt sitting there at the one end of the table, gracious, almost regal, but yet with her big soft bra'ed bust filling out her top, in rather unusual largeness, for what was otherwise a trim, almost petite 30s woman, manifested almost always it seemed, by that hint, and sometimes outward technical knockout, of a ferocious kind of nippular energy at the very tips of her unusually developed bust. I use the word "ferocious" because that's the mayhem these observances and subsequent thoughts played on my young hungry mind.
My uncle meanwhile said he had a surprise for us - Gordon, me, and my aunt - for that coming Sunday. All he let on was that it involved a drive out into the mountains.
Later that night, as my aunt tucked me in, she still had her snug maroon top on, and her long translucent bohemian skirt. She'd lit no candle, nor had she turned on a light in the outer room. A clear sky and bright moon, though, rendered my bedroom bright enough to see shapes and black, white and gray contrasts, And as she went about fluffing the pillows behind my head, I saw that her top was no longer tucked into the waistband of her skirt, but that it had, instead, bunched up some, between her bust and her neck, causing the bottom hem to have lifted up, higher, nearer the bottom of her still bra'ed bust, exposing the pale white skin of her flat tummy. For a second, as she hovered over me, I could see the broadly rounded bottoms of her bra cups, extending horizontally outward perpendicularly from her tummy, where the underwires were conspicuously failing to extend the full way, but instead terminated their role as the last line of resistance, about a half inch up from where her breasts sprung outwards.
In that moment, while her bust filled my field of vision very nearly to capacity, she looked so large and bulbous, and so accessible, that I nearly reached up to touch and feel her there, but as the too few seconds went by so fast, nothing happened. Then I heard her whisper, as she kissed my cheek, "Good night, sweetheart, sweet dreams." And I replied, "Good night Aunt Nancy," as I stared at her and her twin-torpedoed buxom chest lift up away from me.
She stood up then, before me, though, in the dark, lingering there a few seconds, staring down at me. Her bust seemed behemoth in size, though perhaps it was exaggerated by the shadows, and by how much of her top had bunched up above the apex tips of her bust, the bottom hem of the top just hanging out there, unkempt and unnaturally. I don't know why she lingered there - perhaps to just take me in, for her own benefit, or, to leave me with an enticing, albeit frustrating view of her, for the remainder of the night. I wondered if she understood that a 13 year old could lust, want, and desire.
V 1 / Ch 23
A Storm Brews
Rough night. Hardly any sleep. Couldn't leave it alone. Tried to fall asleep, but it all kept coming back to an incessant want to suck on my Aunt Nancy some more. And hold her big things. And see how huge her juggernauts looked when she dangled them right over my face. These thoughts wouldn't leave me. She'd done it now a few times, and in short order had rendered me an addict. Perhaps I would have become one anyway, without my Aunt Nancy. Maybe in my late teens or early 20s, I would have discovered this about myself. But my Aunt had fleshed it out early, I believe, and brought it full-forth, into the limelight of my consciousness and being, at a relatively early age.
For years before this particular time I speak of, I'd only had her pictures to look at, and now she was feeding me directly, for real, from the things growing out of her chest which had been getting larger and larger all that earlier time, as each year of the pictures had gone by. I'd kept most of those pictures to myself, hidden away in my bedroom - keeping those more revealing ones away from my mother - and I'd developed many a before-sleep hard kid-boner, night after night, thinking of how I could tell that she'd been becoming more and more developed, and I'd suspected, or at least hoped, that she'd wanted me to know that about herself, that she'd secretly known I was so into and captivated by her breastial bosomry, and because her breasts were indeed growing ever larger, even though we lived a continent away from each other, she still needed me to know of this change, and had sought to communicate it to me, not by words, but by her rather alluring pictures, even though she was fully dressed in them at all times.
I couldn't help running through what had just happened that particular night. With the two buttons both buttoned, perhaps she hadn't planned on letting me have any of her. Maybe she had just wanted me to put my thoughts and my obvious wantings for those sorts of things - her big heavy tit things - aside, since I really did, after all, have to concentrate the whole next day, to study, for finals to be given the following day, on Monday. And being overly distracted would not help, at all.
Maybe I was just overthinking it. Maybe she'd tried just one button, in preparation to come see me, out of sight of Uncle Rich, but found that just one button wasn't enough, because too much of her tittage would still yet be showing, either above or below it. So she buttoned a second one. To placate, at a minimum, standards of propriety expected of a woman in her 30s w/huge bosoms who was about to go kiss her nephew good night. In retrospect, I should have felt fortunate that she hadn't shown up with all the buttons buttoned.
Of course, I really wished she'd proceeded down that silky luscious rabbit hole, where all the buttons would be undone, and she'd let gravity cause a large swollen nipple to slip thickly into my mouth. Or, perhaps, in front of Uncle Rich, upstairs, in their bedroom, before coming to tuck me in, she did have all or most of the buttons buttoned, and then on the way down the stairs, she'd unbuttoned all but two, because she fully knew how much I adored staring point blank at her big unruly chest, and how much I liked to succulate on her erectified big thick nipples.
I wondered, too, if Uncle Rich, as he watched her drape his shirt around her massive breasts, in her preparations to come tuck me in, had any inkling, or any idea at all, that soon she might be suckling me to those unusually large breasts. Did he even bother to consider the possibility that his wife would in mere minutes be parting the lapels on that shirt of his, to expose to their 13 year old nephew, her massive unbridled breastage, so as to reveal to the boy's easily impressionable young mind the awesome wonder and power of her unusually large breasticulousness?
I doubted it. It just wasn't something you heard about much, or at all; yet right under his nose, it was in fact, actually being done. His wife had decided to not only bare her breasts to me, but to also feed them to me. She had apparently come to some decision to willfully expose to me her power, and had deigned to succulate me to it, and I suppose in addition to filling some need of hers to nourish and provide comfort and succor, to me, that it all satisfied her as well, on various different levels, to expose her breasts to me and then see me hungrily and ravenously feed upon them.
And then, that night, after Uncle Rich had yelled down to her, where his tone of voice belied a suspicion that we - as in, my aunt and I - were perhaps, possibly?, up to no good, my aunt had minutes later, perhaps as a return salvo to his suspicious tone of voice, marshalled her breastial powers, so as to intentionally bust a button right off of his shirt. Perhaps she actually thought him a fool, without actually coming right out and saying it.
What was crazy, too, was how her nipples, and the conicular dark pink hemispheres upon which they spawned, had, in those moments, become suddenly, so large, so thick, so out. How did she do that, I wondered. Could she, or did she, do it on purpose? Or did it just happen when she got riled up like that, involuntarily and subconsciously?
Finally, I fell asleep about 4 am. The next day went fast. Woke up about 9, sat up in bed, and saw the drawn candle on the night table, and the defeated, popped, shirt button next to it, exactly where she'd put it. I recalled what happened, remembering how it got there. I remembered seeing it fly, and how her shirt suddenly parted, as it snapped apart where it'd vacated its responsibilities. My aunt's breasts took over the asylum, while her ruggedly large nipples and areola, out of nowhere, suddenly grew ferociously outwards into the fabric, inches above the shirt's bottom hem, in a sense, denoting how her suppressed eroticism was making a bold response to my uncle's suspiciously sounding inquiry.
I'd become convinced, in those moments, that he was personally no match for her. She had already won, in other words. She, and her mind, and her awesome breasticular power, had defeated him. Concomitantly, she'd begun the engagement of succulating her 13 year old nephew to her massive tits. Who knows what would happen next. I was afraid to think about it.
And so on that cloudy early June Sunday morning, they were on their way to visit Gordon's grandmother, a/k/a my uncle's mother. I wondered what my Aunt Nancy was wearing. Would she have dressed demurely, or would she have allowed the form of her breastial largesse to be exposed, to my uncle, my cousin, and the world. Would she taunt my uncle with her growing power, or would she dress in such a way as to show an appearance of subservience, and cooperation, of dialing down her increasing bustiality.
And of course, a silent fear I had, spawning in me, was that he would, in time, perhaps today, perhaps a month from now, succumb to her, and he'd become the one she'd deign to suckle her developing mammarosity, so as to replace my services to her, in that department of her needs - which he should, I admitted, be the one for that, anyway, and not me.
Pele' was off, staying with her sister downtown, and Emjay was gone, rarely in sight on Sundays. I had a bowl of cereal up in the kitchen and then was back in my room to hit the books. All went swell till around 2pm when I felt antsy, and decided to go out on the pool deck for some sun. I heard slight sounds of humming coming from next door, over towards Jane's house, so I went to the secret alcove passageway mid-way down the yard, along the pine tree twelve foot hedge wall, and once inside the passage, paused.
I could see Jane very well from there, with earphone plugs in, rearranging pool patio furniture, straightening up, and whatnot. It was sunny out, in the low 70s. She wore old blue jeans cut off at upper thigh, was barefoot and had a red bikini top on. At first, I was just going to saunter right into the yard, and say hello - I mean, we were friends - but something told me not to. Ever since learning to watch my aunt swim, and prance about the pool deck late at night, believing she was unseen, while I watched hidden, I'd apparently tapped some innate desire within myself, to watch, to voyeur, to spy. I obtained some fascination and delight in it, especially if the subject was female. And so at these moments, seeing Jane, oblivious to my presence, wearing an obviously too-small bikini top, I paused, crouched, wearing my dark green t-shirt, and watched, while hidden. With large story size hedges and trees on both sides of her house, she'd no reason to believe she was being watched.
She looked older, older than me, I concluded, and older than the kids I was used to seeing in my grade. I was just finishing up at school - 8th grade, while she was just finishing up 9th. I'd last seen her at the Hiscox sleep out party, and I'd laid with her in that tent for a few hours, and kissed her, and felt her, but today, in the daylight, by herself, plain as day, she just looked older. And bigger. Her chest seemed even larger. Was I seeing things? But with that too small red bikini top on, she showing fatty white tit on top of the cups, below them, and to the sides, and the bikini top looking so stressed and uncomfortably tight on her, I was starting to get an erection. She was moving patio chairs around, and then sweeping, humming to her earphones.
Then she stopped, stood the broom to stand against the house, had one hand on a hip to survey her work, and while humming, began to dance. She gradually danced her way out into the center of the patio, and just started getting into it, big time, wildly - I supposed, carefree, believing no one was watching, strutting at times like when wearing high heels, and prominently sticking her chest out, amazingly so, for in no way was she small there, like most of the rest of the girls my age and hers were. She'd surely grown a woman's bust by this point, 14 going on 15, larger than average, and the little kiddy girl bikini top she'd been used to wearing, was in no way suited to her big-girl large-bust now. She had, by then, I concluded, superseded the D cup arena and had grown into the regions beyond it. Even if her breast growth were to come to a complete stop then, she'd still always be known as big-busted.
I just crouched, watched in amazement, and felt my erection stiffen. Finally, I heard her mother yell "Jane!" and the girl stopped, frozen, then slowly and dejectedly walked back inside her house. I thought about that red bikini top coming off, and how delicious it would be to stare at and suck on her big ones. Still, I doubted such a thing would ever happen. She was too young I thought, and would be reluctant to reduce herself and just bare herself to my lust, being from a kid even younger than her. For me, it'd be simply too good to be true.
I quietly walked back to the house and did another few hours studying and then could simply study no more.
I made a frozen pizza, ate it, felt lonely, watched some TV in the porch den, and went to bed. I was asleep when they came home and only have vague memories of my aunt checking on me. The next day I woke early, studied an hour, went to school, spent five hours taking tests, and did fine. I was confident that I at least passed, and wouldn't be held back a year. Done!
My aunt and uncle were still at work when I got home and Gordon was in the den eating potato chips and watching TV with Emjay. Pele' was in the kitchen making dinner. I still felt uncomfortable around Gordon. An instant friendship, it wasn't. He was quiet and moody, not that I was any life of the party, and I just got the feeling he kept wishing he were somewhere else. Another two weeks and he'd be off to his summer camp. So be it.
I was antsy and so put my swimsuit on and did some laps. I kept thinking about Jane, how the next day, I'd see her. I was looking forward to it.
I had to be careful because as I was swimming I was starting to get a hard on, thinking about her red bikini top. She certainly hadn't been that big some several days, or was it weeks, ago, at the Hiscox party in their backyard. I'd lost track of time. She was big then but not like I'd seen just yesterday. Had she done all that growing in so short a time?
When I finished swimming laps, there was Gordon, street clothes on, watching me, sitting in a chair. As I toweled off, he said, "I just thought someone ought to be down here watching, you know, just in case."
"Nice of you," I said. He had that weird half-smirk on, that I just couldn't figure out. Or maybe he was just trying to figure me out. "Dinner's on," he said. "Cool," I said.
My aunt decided to celebrate the end of the school year with a big dinner for everyone - me, her, Uncle Rich, Emjay, Pele, and Gordon - in the dining room. We celebrated with Pinot Grigio and Gordon and I were allowed a glass. The mood was light and for the first time since I'd moved there I began to feel as if, after all, everything was going to be alright, despite the fact my uncle's wife, my aunt, and the lady of the house, had been succulating me lately, and was surely well aware that when she did so, my budding, pointing, organ got rock hard.
Aunt Nancy wore a many-colored bohemian summer skirt (which bordered on times at see-through revealing hints of her dark colored bikini panties), tan sandals, and a snug thick threaded maroon top. It was apparent she had a bra on, and there was definitely no attempt, this evening, to hide her bustial largesse. Occasionally, there was the broad outline of a hint of beginning nipple impression, into the threads, out of the apex of the paradoxically bright white bra cups she wore, and then it would subside and be perfectly smooth there again. Still, there was no doubt, with her bold darkly shaded solid-colored top, with thick slightly spaced-apart thick threads, and obviously see-able bright white full cupped bra underneath, that she was not attempting in the least to hide her obvious, growing massiveness. I am sure any visitor to the table that night would have formed in their mind thoughts to the effect of, "Jeez that woman sure does have a set."
My aunt and Pele' both served, going back and forth to the kitchen - plates of roast beef, potatoes, green beans, and salad. My aunt sat at the far end, my uncle at the other end. I sat on the far side, nearest my aunt, while Gordon sat next to me, near his father. Across from Gordon and I sat Emjay and Pele'.
At the table sitting ladylike and erect, my aunt's bust showed prominently, being all bra'd up with a full cup bra covered by a close form fitting thick sweater. It was as if dessert was constantly on display, long before the real dessert was to be served. Though I tried not to stare, I couldn't help but imagine the large conical outswell of her big areolae, pushing and struggling against the insides of those bra cups. I practically reveled in the secret knowledge that I'd tasted my aunt there, and licked and sucked on her, and gazed profoundly at her female voluptuousness.
Thinking about her like that, I reflected to myself, was my personal reward for having finally finished the school year. Now and then my aunt smiled lovingly at me, and even winked once. I imagined the wink to mean, "I love it when you suck on my big tits, and I just can't wait for you to do it again." It was our dark little secret. She'd taken me into her home and not long after had begun succulating me when no one else was around.
All was polite; Gordon made no facetious remarks, and Uncle Rich seemed to be going with the flow. Likewise, my Aunt Nancy - though I've never been able to tell if this was a purely voluntary act or not - saw fit to hold the full potential of her pronounced and volatile nipple erectivity in check. Meanwhile, our dinner discussion was sanguine and jovial. We talked mainly about 9-1-1, and the country possibly going to war. Meanwhile, everyone it seemed, according to my Uncle Rich, was getting cell phones. Uncle Rich said he was looking into getting a "family plan" through Verizon, so that everyone could have a phone. "Cool!" Gordon said. All his friends, apparently, already had them at school.
Tidbits of new information were gleaned as well. For example, I found out that Emjay had many talents, besides keeping our house running efficiently. He was a 3rd degree blackbelt, and 2-3 days a week assisted downtown at a karate dojo. He was also a certified masseuse, and maintained a small practice, and workout dijou, in the basement of his house across the yard. Most importantly, my uncle divulged to both Gordon and me, though not before asking Emjay's permission, that Emjay was in no way mute. He could speak, in other words. My eyes widened at this revelation. But, as per his personal ethics, discipline, and spiritual habits, speaking was for him a personal luxury not to be mis-used, and so, consequently, he did so only in rare moments. I looked at Emjay. He merely stared downward in apparent respect and humility. Cool, I thought.
My uncle suggested Gordon and I go visit him Wednesday - and he might even give us a karate lesson in his below ground dijou, my uncle said, winking, if we showed up at noon. Gordon and I both went "Yeah!" Emjay smiled politely.
Meanwhile, as to my aunt, and Jane, I began to consider, as the dinner progressed, that perhaps, I ought not be saddled with what felt more and more like unnatural, wild and crazy desires, but there they were all the same. Just as with the elephant in the room, at the Hiscox backyard camp out, being Jane, with her suddenly adult looking knockers, quite easily and suddenly more developed than any other girl at that kids-in-the-neighborhood gathering, so it was that evening, at dinner, with my aunt sitting there at the one end of the table, gracious, almost regal, but yet with her big soft bra'ed bust filling out her top, in rather unusual largeness, for what was otherwise a trim, almost petite 30s woman, manifested almost always it seemed, by that hint, and sometimes outward technical knockout, of a ferocious kind of nippular energy at the very tips of her unusually developed bust. I use the word "ferocious" because that's the mayhem these observances and subsequent thoughts played on my young hungry mind.
My uncle meanwhile said he had a surprise for us - Gordon, me, and my aunt - for that coming Sunday. All he let on was that it involved a drive out into the mountains.
Later that night, as my aunt tucked me in, she still had her snug maroon top on, and her long translucent bohemian skirt. She'd lit no candle, nor had she turned on a light in the outer room. A clear sky and bright moon, though, rendered my bedroom bright enough to see shapes and black, white and gray contrasts, And as she went about fluffing the pillows behind my head, I saw that her top was no longer tucked into the waistband of her skirt, but that it had, instead, bunched up some, between her bust and her neck, causing the bottom hem to have lifted up, higher, nearer the bottom of her still bra'ed bust, exposing the pale white skin of her flat tummy. For a second, as she hovered over me, I could see the broadly rounded bottoms of her bra cups, extending horizontally outward perpendicularly from her tummy, where the underwires were conspicuously failing to extend the full way, but instead terminated their role as the last line of resistance, about a half inch up from where her breasts sprung outwards.
In that moment, while her bust filled my field of vision very nearly to capacity, she looked so large and bulbous, and so accessible, that I nearly reached up to touch and feel her there, but as the too few seconds went by so fast, nothing happened. Then I heard her whisper, as she kissed my cheek, "Good night, sweetheart, sweet dreams." And I replied, "Good night Aunt Nancy," as I stared at her and her twin-torpedoed buxom chest lift up away from me.
She stood up then, before me, though, in the dark, lingering there a few seconds, staring down at me. Her bust seemed behemoth in size, though perhaps it was exaggerated by the shadows, and by how much of her top had bunched up above the apex tips of her bust, the bottom hem of the top just hanging out there, unkempt and unnaturally. I don't know why she lingered there - perhaps to just take me in, for her own benefit, or, to leave me with an enticing, albeit frustrating view of her, for the remainder of the night. I wondered if she understood that a 13 year old could lust, want, and desire.
