My Aunt, My Lover: Taboo Erotica E-Book

Anita Mandelay

• Herausgeber: Taboo Pulp Press
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Warning: This is a vintage hard-boiled full length (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel. This is bad stuff. Both bad meaning bad and bad meaning *good*. The story is so crazy, we can't even give a proper description. Check out the free sample if you can.

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As the train rattled and swayed its way toward the end of the line Grace became aware of the young man across the aisle. He was ogling her full luscious breasts as if the thin fabric wasn't even there. She could not help but notice the bulge in the front of his thin summer slacks. He was a well-hung young chap and re minded her a little of Frankie. The mere thought of her nephew made her horny all over again. This boy was about Frankie's age, though not as tall. She wondered if he was still a virgin. If so, perhaps she could alter that status pretty quickly. Goddamn, if she didn't get some cock soon she'd go fruity. She determined to pick up the young boy and seduce him. In order to get him in a really receptive frame of mind she unstuck her skirt from her sweaty thighs and managed to hike it up, as though unmindful of the fact that she was sans panties. She watched his eyes bulge as they dropped from her tits to that dark, hairy patch that was now open to his amazed gaze. She saw him gulp once or twice and was fascinated at the way the bulge in his pants grew. She wondered if he had ever seen a cunt before and if he wanted what he was staring at as much as she needed what she was staring at. In her mind she rehearsed just what she would say to him when she staggered across the aisle and sat beside him. Finally she had it down pat. It had to work. Surely no young boy with hot pants could resist the temptation of a free fuck. She made a move to get up as the train stopped in the next station. In her present condition it would be easier to navigate across the aisle while the train was stopped. Her movement made him look up. He spotted the station sign and dashed out the door just as it was slamming shut. She had almost made him pass his station. She couldn't even get out of the car to follow him. The train ground into motion as, through the window, she watched a potential sex partner walk out of her life. Shithouse mouse! This just wasn't her day.by the time she reached her car in the lot the wave of intoxication that had engulfed her on the ride home ebbed away and she experienced a sinking spell. She drove very carefully the four miles from the station to her house. She knew she had something to drink there and felt that she needed it. How many times could a girl come out a loser in just one day? She remembered Adlai Stevenson's words after losing his second bid for the Presidency: "I'm too old to cry, and it hurts too much when I laugh." Going directly to the little bar in the living room she poured herself four fingers of sour mash tranquilizer.

Leseprobe

My Aunt, My Lover

Anita Mandelay

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

This summer, the din of excited young voices was deafening and already some of the wiser, long-seasoned commuters were detouring through the arcades to Lexington Avenue and the long, bare tunnel to the Roosevelt Hotel. Obviously they preferred extra steps to extra decibels.

In the midst of this melee, Frankie Powers felt ill at ease and totally out of place. The kids around him under the banner of Camp Mohawk all seemed so terribly juvenile. He towered head and shoulders above them. One nervous little lad had approached and asked him a question, addressing him as "sir." Obviously the young boy had thought that anyone as big as Frankie must be a counselor. He viewed the next ten weeks with resignation rather than anticipation. Didn't his folks realize that camp was for kids, not adolescents? The last summer he had been shipped off to camp he had been twelve; now he was nearly eighteen. Those five years made a hell of a difference in the type of nature study that interests a young man. He had graduated from leaf and butterfly collecting to a consuming interest in female anatomy. This summer would obviously offer no possibilities to advance that study. Later he would remember this thought and realize how wrong a guy can be when he makes a forecast based on superficial appearances.

"Are you sure you'll be all right at camp, son? The other boys all look so much younger and smaller than you."

"Yeah, Mom. I'll be just fine. It'll be fun getting back into the outdoor life again and maybe I can teach some of the younger guys a few things about camp life. You just enjoy your trip and don't give me a thought, except to send postcards from all those foreign countries. They'll impress the other campers." Frankie hoped it sounded more sincere than it felt. He knew that his mother had wanted him to make this chartered air tour around the world with them but his father had insisted that it was to be a second honeymoon and that you don't take teenage kids on honeymoons.

"Now, remember, Frankie, if you get into any trouble, or need money or anything at all, just call my office collect. My partner, Bob Robinson, has said that he'll be happy to take care of any little emergency you might encounter while I'm away. Don't hesitate to call him."

"I understand, Dad, but don't worry. How much trouble can I get into at a closely supervised kids' summer camp? Don't sweat it. There won't be any emergencies."

Aunt Grace spoke now for the first time since they'd arrived at the station: "I still say this is all very silly and unnecessary; shipping Frankie off with all those strange children when he could have spent the summer with me."

"Now, Grace, we've been all through that a dozen times. This is the best thing for all concerned," Frankie's father said with a touch of exasperation in his voice.

"Yes, I know," Grace replied icily, "but I want Frankie to know that he can call me collect at any hour of the day or night, too, while you're trotting all over the world. He always has Aunt Grace to take care of him."

Frankie wondered if his mother's big-titted sister had any idea just how much he wanted her to "take care" of him. He wondered if she suspected that he'd been having wet dreams about her ever since that night he'd caught a glimpse of her going past his door to the bathroom in the nude. She was more woman than any of the strippers at the burlesque show he sneaked in to see whenever he could.

His daydreams were interrupted by the camp director, who announced that it was time for all campers to line up and march to the private railroad car that would transport them to that crummy little burg in Maine where dear old Camp Mohawk was located. His father insisted on hugging and kissing him, which made Frankie blush. He was too big to be kissing Dad. He gave his mother a dutiful peck on the cheek. Then Aunt Grace gave him a big hug and kissed him square on the lips. Her full lips were soft on his and those wonderful huge tits flattened against his chest. It was a feeling he tried to carry with him to make the ten dreary weeks ahead seem bearable. He moved into line with the younger kids and gave his family a cursory wave. His mother was crying, but she always did on such occasions. Then suddenly he was marching towards the train and away from family life as he had always known it.

On the railroad car Frankie was happy to find a window seat to himself, away from the younger boys. His short, thin, camp uniform pants were about to rip from the ferocity of a throbbing hard-on that had developed when Aunt Grace had given him that good-bye kiss. He wondered if she had felt it develop in just those few seconds that she embraced him. He closed his eyes, remembering the touch of those soft lips and tits as he felt his inflamed cock twitch from the memory of the brief physical encounter. Already he could feel the sticky slime of the clear juice that always oozed out when a hard-on like that came on. He could feel the wetness of his shorts and knew that if it continued it would show through the khaki short pants.

Carrying a magazine in front of him to hide the bulging erection, he made his way to the men's room at the end of the coach. Safely inside, with the door locked, he took down his pants and shorts. Sitting on the John he stroked his drooling dong while he thought of Aunt Grace. He could still see those big bouncing tits and that mammoth patch of auburn cunthair that he had glimpsed in the hall that night. His hand was well-lubricated now with the clear heavy liquid that kept oozing from the hot slit. He masturbated slowly and gently as he tried to imagine that the palm of his hand was the inside of Grace's pussy.

Just as the swelling and throbbing became unbearable he opened his eyes and watched as he spurted a huge load of jism nearly a foot up into the air before it reached the peak of its trajectory and fell back to land in a big sticky white puddle. It took over a dozen of the little individual sheets of toilet paper to mop up the pool of warm come and to clean off his now shrunken cock. When he was sure he had removed the final traces of having jerked off before the train was even out of the tunnel at 125th Street, he adjusted his clothing and made his way back to his seat.

Frankie was so deep in his own thoughts that he was oblivious to the noisy mob of kids around him. Vaguely he wondered if he had ever really been that juvenile. He knew that he had nothing in common with these youngsters. No doubt his father had found it necessary to do a real selling job on the camp director to get him to accept a boy so much older than the others. In a strange way he relished the thought that this would be the worst summer of his life. He knew how much this big vacation meant to Mom and Dad. They had saved and planned on it for years. He had been the only real fly in the ointment. Mom had wanted him to take the tour too and had tried to convince his father what a great educational experience it would be for him. In the end she had backed down and now he felt like a martyr suffering punishment so that his parents might have pleasure. He prided himself on the fact that never once had he ex pressed any interest in taking the tour with them. At his age it would have made the most educational summer possible. He fell asleep now, content in the thought that he was doing a good deed with no hope of reward. The monotonous clickety-clack of the wheels over the rail joints seemed to keep repeating: "You're a good boy, Frankie ... you're a good boy."

The sun had dropped beneath the tops of the tall pines when they arrived at their destination and piled into the two old busses that would transport them the final eight miles through the woods to the campsite by the lake. By the time their tents were assigned and each boy had stowed his trunk of camp gear beneath his bunk and made that bunk with his own two blankets (sheets and pillows were frowned upon as retarding growth) it was dark. The yellow bulbs which were supposed to repel insects, but didn't, had been switched on from the camp office.

This first night there was to be no real supper in the mess hall. Instead the boys were all led out to a huge clearing around a roaring campfire where hot dogs and marshmallows were roasted. There was a welcoming speech by the camp director and then the counselors were introduced. Each tried hard to make it all sound like a lot of fun. They all sang a few songs and were then herded back to their tents.

Once the boys were in their pajamas and found their own bunks, the lights were turned off. Somewhere out there in the darkness a bugler played taps. It was obvious that he hadn't practiced since last summer. After he had faltered through the goodnight signal the quiet night air was returned to the chirping crickets and hooting owls. A couple of the younger boys began to cry from early pangs of homesickness. Frankie could hear the tent counselor trying to reassure them. In the confusion he slipped from his bunk and extracted a large handkerchief from his trunk. Crawling back between the blankets he carefully spread the handkerchief inside the fly of his pajama pants. He often had wet dreams lately and pecker tracks on the blankets would only cause a lot of lectures and recriminations. The blankets felt rough to his bare feet and he had trouble getting comfortable without a pillow. A couple of the younger boys began to snore as if they needed to have their adenoids and tonsils out. At last Frankie fell asleep and soon was dreaming of Aunt Grace. Before reveille he had mentally fucked her for the second and third times in the past eighteen hours.

When he awakened it took him a minute or two to realize where he was. When he did he was happy that he had taken the precaution to line his pajama pants with the handkerchief. With it he performed some necessary moppingup operations and then slipped from his bunk. He carefully checked the blankets before spreading them neatly. Sneaking the handkerchief full of jism into his trunk he dressed and joined the others for his first full day at summer camp.

CHAPTER TWO

When she had stepped forward to kiss Frankie good-bye Grace had hoped that her sister and that shithead she had married hadn't noticed that she kissed the boy full on the mouth and pulled him close to feel the hard hairy manliness of his young chest against the soft fleshiness of her ample breasts. It had only lasted for a second but she was sure that she had felt a hardening twitch of that lovely young prick against her hungry snatch that she had rubbed up close to his firm loins. Then, in a flash, it was over, and she watched as Frankie marched away with the others. He towered over the younger boys like a giant redwood in a scrub pine grove. What a criminal waste of that firm, anxious young male flesh to pack him off to camp with a bunch of mere children. Heaven knows she had pressed the point as hard and often as she dared to convince Sally and Harry that the boy would be better off with her while they were away. She had stressed the financial aspects of the situation, knowing that any saving of money always appealed to Harry. She had told Sally that she was afraid living in that house all alone and that Frankie could protect her as well as provide much needed company so soon after her divorce from Dick. Nothing had any effect. Now, when she needed him so badly, she watched helplessly as he was swept off into the north woods.