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Aunt Myrna


Sitting at her kitchen table, I explained to Aunt Myrna,
my mother’s elder sister, with whom I had been sent to live,
why I seemed younger than the other freshmen in the college
town in which she lived. “My mother was eager to get me into
school early so she changed my date of birth from June to
the prior December so I had started first grade with kids
a year older. Then I skipped fourth grade so I was with kids
two years older. And having gotten early honors admission
to the university, I was three years younger than the other
freshmen. I would be fifteen in a few months.” Aunt Myrna,
a large bosomy dignified woman in her late fifties, nodded
sympathetically. “I am afraid that it will be a problem
meeting girls. Being short even for my age doesn’t help
either. I suppose I will have to wait a few years.” I blushed.
Aunt Myrna nodded her head still more sympathetically.
She wore her hair in a coiffure, not a hairdo. “Coffee?”
she asked, rose to get the carafe. I thought I shouldn’t.
“My mother said I was too young to drink coffee so I don’t
really know how to drink it or how it will affect me.”, I said.
Aunt Myrna’s eyebrows went up slightly and her face took
on an appraising air. “So, ” she said, “you’re starting
college at the age others start high school?” “I hadn’t
thought of it that way, but yes.” I answered. “Would you
like milk instead?” she asked, “and cookies?”

Aunt Myrna thought a while, looked strangely at me, smiled
to herself, and then said with quiet dignity, yes, she said,
you may stay as long as you like. I agreed instantly. Aunt
Myrna’s house was a big two story brown shingle. Though
fairly close to campus it was on a quiet isolated cul-de-sac
on a hillside behind the stadium. Best of all she had only
the one room so there would be no bigger kids to bully or mock
me nor girls to be snotty and unavailable. She said I could
have the run of the place unless she had guests, which she
assured me almost never happened. We would have to share
the upstairs bathroom, but what was the harm in that? “Is
there an Uncle Myrna?” I asked, not knowing if it was impolite
to ask, but asking anyway. “No.” she said.

I went back to the bus depot, got my suitcase from the locker,
and brought it to Aunt Myrna’s house and moved in that very
day. The day I went away to school my mom had given up her apartment
and moved in with her boyfriend who didn't like me.
My dad was still somewheres in Florida. So this was where
I lived now. All alone in the world now. Except for my Aunt

My days quickly fell into a round of classes, studying,
and occasionally television, usually sitting on the couch
with Aunt Myrna.”

She was watching a program about breast implants. “Those
things are just never going to be anything but artificial
and unnatural. I hope you will never get involved with a
girl wearing those things.” I stammered that I didn’t think
I…. “Well they’re just never going to be as good as the real
thing.” She paused. “Here, give me your hand.” I gave her
my hand. She put it on her enormous breast. “That, ” she
said, “is what a breast is supposed to feel like.” And holding
my hand against her breast rolled its great bulk around
several times. “There aren’t any balloons in there” she
said with an authority that brooked no contradiction.
“Ah, I , uh, gah, No, no balloons in there.” I agreed. “So
any time one of those college girls with their artificial
parts attracts you, you just come and feel mine to see what
the real thing is supposed to feel like” she added. “Uh,
ah, any time?” I hoarsely whispered. “Of course not” she
answered with the calm dignity of one whose propriety is
above question, holding my other hand on her other breast
and rolling them around simultaneously, “that would be

Aunt Myrna sometimes asked me to help her with tasks around
the house, like changing a light bulb in the kitchen. Though
there was a small step ladder in the garage, she did it by
standing on a chair even though she was afraid of falling
she said. She had me hold her waist to keep her from falling
while she stood on the chair and unscrewed the fixture.
“Don’t let me fall” she said and pressed my face to her midriff.
“Look up to watch whether I am going to lose my balance” she
said. As I did, she hunched her shoulders so that her breasts
fell in my face, first one then the other as she swayed back
and forth, still holding the back of my head. It took her
a long time to change the light bulb. Finally, “Oh, I am losing
my balance, I am falling” she said as she nimbly fell off
the chair and fell on top of me on the floor. She lay on top
of me rubbing first one breast into my face then the other.
Falling must have knocked the wind out of her because she
was a long time getting up.

Another time she had to use the small ladder to change the
bulb because it was a high-ceilinged room. And again I had
to hold her for fear she would fall. Standing on the small
ladder I had my arm around her thighs. My face, quite by accident,
wound up just at the top of her legs. She held my head against
her to keep herself steady. I don’t think Aunt Myrna is very
mechanical because it took her a long time to change that
bulb too.

That fall, Aunt Myrna, who was an educated and eclectic
woman and occasionally eccentric, became interested
in Graeco-Roman wrestling. She made me practice with her.
It was more than fair since, though a woman, she was much
taller, wider, heavier, and stronger. She wore a huge one
piece bathing suit and I wore my swim trunks when we wrestled.
She won pretty regularly. She usually started by getting
me in a headlock and wrestling me down to the living room
carpet. She held my face against her breast, occasionally
moving me around to emphasize her control. Sometimes one
of the big stiff cups of her bathing suit would accidentally
get pulled down. Aunt Myrna had an enormous nipple on each
breast and a big dark area around each nipple, all of which
I could see, feel, and suck when this happened. Just to hold
my own in our wrestling I sucked on Aunt Myrna’s nipple and,
secretly, just because I enjoyed doing it. I enjoyed it
a lot. “Stop doing that at once, ” Aunt Myrna said. “You
are supposed to be helping me practice Graeco-Roman wrestling,
not taking liberties with your aunt.” She forced my face
more firmly against her breast as she spoke. Even though
I didn’t struggle at all it must have been a lot of effort
for Aunt Myrna to keep hold of me, because her breathing
start to come in deep breaths. I rose up and down on top of
her like a small boat on ocean swells.

Other times I got the advantage of her in our wrestling practices.
If I could get behind her, which wasn’t hard, because she
didn’t try to stop me, I would get her in a quarter nelson.
I couldn’t reach far enough to get her in either a full nelson
or a half nelson because of how she towered over me, so I just
grabbed her breasts from behind and tried to pull her down.
That was a quarter nelson. She fell down to her hands and
knees quite easily, perhaps because her balance was so
bad. “You mustn’t touch me like that. I am a lady and your
aunt. You mustn’t do that, ” she protested. “But Aunt Myrna,
I can’t reach high enough to reach you around your shoulders.
And it would be okay if you were a man.” I complained. “Well
yes, it would be okay if I were a man, ” she agreed. Once I
had her down in a quarter nelson I straddled her back and
rode her like a pony. She would walk around the thick living
room carpet on her hands and knees while I lay on her back
and held her breasts. I wasn’t sure what the point of it was
since she could have shaken me off any time. But it was a heck
of a lot of fun and it passed the time and was good exercise.
In spite of it all Aunt Myrna’s dignity and self-assurance
never wavered.

One day Aunt Myrna came home with a lovely Greek urn she had
bought at the museum gift shop. It was painted in black and
ochre and was an exact replica of a famous fifth century
original. Showing me the painted figures on the urn, “We’ve
been doing it wrong.” “What have we been doing wrong?” I
asked. “See here and here and here? The ancient Greeks wrestled
in the nude. To be authentic we must do that too.” Blushing,
I asked, “Would that really be proper?” Aunt Myrna smiled
enigmatically down at me, and said, “Of course it would
so long as you behave yourself and don’t touch me in any way
that you shouldn’t. And nothing is more proper than the
classic tradition.” I didn’t see anywhere on the urn where
a large woman wrestled with a boy, but maybe that was on other

I had come to really look forward to our wrestling practices.
But I was nervous about the next one. I didn’t know what to
expect. The next day Aunt Myrna was as good as her word. She
took off her clothes and dignifiedly laid them on the couch.
I blushed and was embarrassed. She was a big woman, ripely
fifty-nine, with big hips, big thighs, big shoulders,
big breasts, and a big butt. A massive woman. With blue rinsed
hair and very nice skin for a woman her age. Usually Aunt
Myrna didn’t wear makeup but today she wore red lipstick.
Now I saw that she had a big furry muff at the top of her legs.
My faced burned bright red at the sight. “Go ahead and undress”
she prompted me, “I won’t look.” She looked away. I took
off my clothes and laid them on the couch next to hers. It
was silly because we were going to see each other and wrestle
but it put off the moment for a moment. By contrast to her
rich furry muff, I had grown only a few hairs there.

“Are you ready?” she asked. I nodded, still too embarrassed
to talk. Aunt Myrna for some reason had a big smile and came
toward me. She got me in a bear hug. It wasn’t much of a bear
hug, she just put her arms around me and held me to her. She
slipped to the floor, pulling me down on top of her. I had
been on top of Aunt Myrna before and it was always a lot of
fun because she was big and solid and heavy. But without
our bathing suits it was completely different. Completely.
I could feel her body against mine everywhere. She had been
warm through her bathing suit before, but now she was warm
against me in a completely different way. I couldn’t absorb
how different it was to be on top of Aunt Myrna’s big thick
body without her clothes or mine, skin against skin, all
over our bodies. Together.

Aunt Myrna took advantage of her size and strength to move
me around on top of her body, to rub me against herself. Suddenly
I realized down there was getting stiff. I blushed worse
than I ever had before. My face and ears and neck burned so
much it hurt. Fortunately Aunt Myrna seemed not to notice
and rolled me around on top of her even more. Then something
terrible happened. Down there started to squirt all over
Aunt Myrna’s big belly. I was sure she would notice and be
angry at me. But she didn’t say anything so maybe she didn’t
notice. But she giggled a little so maybe she did. I didn’t

Then Aunt Myrna made an unthinking wrestling mistake.
She slid me off of her and turned her back to me. I would have
gotten her in a quarter nelson but because she was on her
side I couldn’t get my arm around her. So I put my right arm
around her neck in a chokehold. Then for some reason she
made a second mistake and put her left arm behind her back.
It didn’t occur to me what I should do about it. But she waved
her arm around until I realized that it was an opportunity
to really get the better of her. I took hold of her wrist and
pushed it up her back. Just then she rolled onto her stomach.
My grip around her neck and holding her arm behind her back
pulled me onto her back in the same motion. Now I was on top
of her, had her in a chokehold, and had her arm twisted behind
her back. For the first time I was really in control of her.
And on top of her. It was a strange wonderful and exhilarating
experience. Aunt Myrna was huge compared to me, but for
once I was in control. I was on top. I was in charge. I was in
control. I had her. I could do anything with her. I could
do anything to her. I tightened my arm around her neck. I
twisted her arm further up her back. I didn’t see why she
had made the mistake of presenting her back, and then the
second mistake of putting her arm behind her back where
I could twist it into an arm lock, but I was glad she had.

Aunt Myrna started to breathe heavily and even to groan
a little. But even if I was hurting her I didn’t care. Actually
I liked it that I might be hurting her. I squeezed a little
tighter around her neck and twisted her arm a little harder.
She groaned more, and I smiled. We just stayed like that
for a while. I enjoyed being in control of Aunt Myrna. I wondered
if there were other ways to control her, to take charge of
her, to be on top of her. Down there was just starting to get
stiff again.

Aunt Myrna shook herself and shook me off, and rolled over
onto her back again. This was obviously yet another wrestling
mistake. I got on top of her but this time I straddled her
belly. I scooted up to where her breasts were over my thighs.
I ran my hands up her long arms as far as I could reach by leaning
over, about to her elbows, and pinned her arms down on the
carpet. Now I was seated astraddle her middle holding her
arms down. I was sitting on her body. I was on top again. In
control. As I scooted up to reach as far up her arms as I could,
the motion pushed the huge mounds of her breasts together
and into my lap. Down there, and my inner thighs, and my groin
were utterly immersed in the squeezed mass of her breasts.
The sensation was wonderful. I wiggled around until I had
her nipples on each side of my scrotum. Aunt Myrna made some
feeble wiggling attempts to get away which didn’t help
her get away at all. All her wiggling did was get her breasts
and nipples the more snugly bunched around down there and
my scrotum. The wiggling and the snugness made down there
get really stiff. First Aunt Myrna wiggled. Then I wiggled.
Then Aunt Myrna wiggled some more. The sensation went from
wonderful to thrilling. I was glad Aunt Myrna had found
that Greek vase at the museum.

Aunt Myrna wiggled from side to side. I held her arms down
and wiggled forward and back, forward and back, forward
and back, pushing down there against the warm mass of her
breasts, working it against Aunt Myrna’s stiff nipples.
Aunt Myrna tried to raise her arms but this time I really
didn’t want her to get away and I held her arms down with all
my might. Forward and back, forward and back, forward and
back, forward and back. Wiggling from side to side. Groaning
and heavy breathing from Aunt Myrna. I rose and fell as her
big chest rose and fell. Down there squirted on Aunt Myrna’s
huge breasts. Her nipples were covered with it. I wondered
what Aunt Myrna would do or say. She just smiled. “You won
that one” she declared. I really liked practicing wrestling
with Aunt Myrna.

We took turns showering and got dressed.

Chapter 2

The next time we wrestled, we stripped again. I was still
embarrassed but not as much as the first time. I discovered
that if Aunt Myrna held one arm fully extended above her
head, I could reach just far enough to get her in a half nelson.
If she held both arms up, I could just reach around for a full
nelson. This consisted of reaching my left arm under her
smooth shaven left armpit and grasping the back of her neck
‒ a half nelson. And then reaching my right arm under her
smooth shaven right armpit and again grasping her nape
‒ a full nelson. By locking my fingers together it was a hold
that gave Aunt Myrna no leverage to escape and no way to get
my hands apart. It made little sense that Aunt Myrna had
been so helpful in letting me pull her down with a quarter
nelson and then, with me on her back, raising her arms obligingly.
But she had done it, and now I had her. And there was that sensation
again. I was in control. My small body was in charge of her
big female body. I could do with her whatever I wanted, dignity
or no. It was a great sensation. I squeezed and pulled and
drew her back toward me. I made her arch her back such that
her breasts stood out even more enormously than before.
Her nipples stood out stiffly. I pulled back and forced
her to arch her big thick body helplessly.

After thrashing around for a while I rolled her over on her
back, and I got on top of her again. But this time, instead
of straddling her, I put my knees on her shoulders. Again
I slid my hands up her arms and pinned her to the carpet. I
sat back. I found that I was sitting on her breasts. Aunt
Myrna’s big breasts again bunched up between my thighs
but this time they were against my scrotum. It was wonderful.
Down there started to stiffen. I didn’t know how much Graeco-Roman
wrestling we were learning but I was having wonderful time
getting on top of Aunt Myrna. Aunt Myrna, for all her dignity,
seemed to enjoy it too though she didn’t seem to wrestle
very hard.

I decided that I would force Aunt Myrna’s head into the carpet.
I scooted my knees up off her shoulders onto the carpet.
Now I was astraddle her neck. I leaned over to press my belly
into her head. I lay my full weight on the side of her face.
Again there was no point to it, but I was in charge, I had control
of her, little me was dominating big her. I loved it. I pressed
down harder. I could feel her hot breath against my belly.
Aunt Myrna was breathing heavily. I rolled around to grind
her head into the carpet. I was on top. She was on the bottom.
It was good.

Then something unexpected happened. As I was rolling my
belly around on Aunt Myrna’s head, down there popped stiffly
into Aunt Myrna’s mouth. It surprised me and I jumped. Aunt
Myrna jumped too. “Whatever are you doing? Just what do
you think you are doing?” she asked crossly. “Well, I was
on top of you and it just happened. I didn’t do it on purpose, ”
I said in extenuation. “If it was not intentional then I
guess it was okay, ” she said. You may resume your position.
To my surprise it happened again. It must have surprised
Aunt Myrna too because she closed her mouth on it. Not with
her teeth thankfully, but with her lips and tongue. She
began to gently suck on down there. I didn’t see what this
had to do with wrestling but a lot of our wrestling didn’t
seem to have much to do with wrestling. Up and down, in and
out, in and out, up and down. Aunt Myrna sucked and I moved
my hips. I pushed down there into her mouth and out and in
and out and in. Now here was control. And it was wonderful.
I not only was lying on top of her head, I also had down there
in her mouth. This was exciting, so exciting. Now I was more
than sticking down there in Aunt Myrna’s mouth, going in
and out with it. I was more than having her suck gently on
down there. Now down there was squirting into Aunt Myrna’s
mouth. Squirting and squirting. I saw blazes of light in
the backs of my eyeballs. What would she do? Would she gag?
Would she spit it out and rinse her mouth? She hesitated
a moment and then…. … swallowed.

This drove me absolutely wild. It was as if nothing else
had even happened before this. Now I went out of control
with sticking down there in Aunt Myrna’s mouth in a frenzy.
“You absolutely must not do that again, ” she scolded.
“And you must not get that sticky stuff on the carpet either, ”
she said, licking the last bits of sticky stuff off my still
stiff down there, causing me intense jolts of pleasure.
Here was the proof that I could do anything at all to Aunt
Myrna and that it would always be alright. I was absolutely
free to use Aunt Myrna in any way I wanted. She belonged to
me. I would always be on top and she would always be on the
bottom ‒ during our wrestling. The rest of the time she was
still dignified, my aunt, forty five years older, a foot
taller and twice as big.

And that was how it was. To this day I still think of her only
as Aunt Myrna. Except for our physical contact, she was
always starchily correct with me and insisted I have proper
manners not only toward herself but toward adults in general.
I was to do as I was told and not answer back. It was never lost
on either of us at other times that I was a fourteen (and then
fifteen) year old boy and that she was my aunt. As the weeks
and then months of school and wrestling wore on, our relationship
changed. I became ever more in control of the wrestling.
At the same Aunt Myrna became ever more conscious of being
in loco parentis to me because I so rarely heard from my mother
and never from my father. She became strict about my studying
hard and long and that I not waste time on juvenile things.
She insisted I keep my room clean and tidy, my clothes put
away. She forbade me to smoke, drink, or be idle. She became,
if not my mother, then my aunt, my stepmother. It may be that
the fitting together of the two things made her a better
parent and me a better son. I bear her impress to this day.

Chapter 3

The next time we practiced wrestling, Aunt Myrna said,
“You know this isn’t fair because I am bigger. I should have
a handicap.” This hardly made any sense since I had won the
last two practice sessions, but I saw no reason to disagree.
If she had a handicap, it would make it even easier for me
to win. “What kind of handicap?” I asked. “Oh, I don’t know.
Maybe you could tie my wrists together behind my back.”
Since I had won last time this seemed …. But if she wanted
to wrestle, not with one hand tied behind her back, but two,
so be it. Coincidentally there was a soft cotton rope on
the couch. We stripped as we had before. I was still embarrassed
but not as much as before. Aunt Myrna put her hands behind
her back and I tied her wrists together.

I was keen to be on top of Aunt Myrna in every way I could. I
threw her down on her back. I did everything I wasn’t supposed
to do. I put my hand on her furry muff. It was warm and moist
and felt good. I lay on top of her and sucked her nipples,
first one and then the other, with no pretense of a headlock.
“Stop, ” she said, “you mustn’t.” I sat on her face. I stuck
down there in her mouth. I caressed her face with down there.
Then I had an idea. I lay full length sprawled on top of her,
scooted down and slowly…. Ever so slowly… slowly and slowly…slid
down there into her muff. “Stop that at once, ” she commanded.
“Now you have gone too far. I will not permit this indecency, ”
she shouted as she thrust her hips against me. It was more
exciting than I could have imagined in spite of all I had
experienced wrestling with Aunt Myrna. I didn’t move down
there around this time. I just lay there savoring down there
being inside Aunt Myrna’s enormous adult female body.
I could feel Aunt Myrna’s muff muscles squeezing and releasing
on down there. It was wonderful. I went so slowly so very
slowly that Aunt Myrna lay still under me for a long time.
But after a long time, her breathing began to get heavy.
I continued to go so slowly so slowly. It lasted a long time.
“Get off me this instant, you little animal, ” Aunt Myrna
screamed as she suddenly began to thrash around like a captured
animal, her hip racing up and down wildly. Aunt Myrna slowed
and then sighed. I rolled off her. “You should have obeyed
me sooner, ” she said contentedly.

I lay on my back. Aunt Myrna took the hint and sat astride
me. Without her hands, she couldn’t direct down there where
it was to go. She floundered around for what seemed like
a long while, then suddenly found it. And down there sank
home. Home. Aunt Myrna’s muff muscles were exquisite.
Her hips careful not to let down there get loose. Eventually
her legs tired and she rolled off. Which was fine. I stood
up and pulled Aunt Myrna to a kneeling position. She was
so big and I was so short that she had to crouch down on her
knees to reach down there. Here was a crescendo of desire
and domination. Here was this enormous woman, this mass
of breasts and shoulders and hips and muff and neck. Here
she was not just kneeling, but bowing down before me, little
me, submitting completely, helpless, her hands tied behind
her back. Taking down there in her mouth. I put both my hands
behind her head. I thrust. I thrust. I thrust. And thrust.
And thrust. And thrust. She sucked while I thrust. She sucked
and I thrust. I was small and still fourteen. Everything
went in. Her tongue was soft, warm, active, and big. Faster
and faster. More and more. I was doing it to her head almost
as separate from her body, my hands behind her head matching
each thrust of my hips with a thrust of her head toward me.
Impaling her face over and over. Her mouth, her face, her
head, became things I was using, over which she had no power
at all. I was standing, down there in her mouth. She was crouched
low, down there in her mouth. I was on top. She was on the bottom.
I was on top a hundred times more because I was little and
she was big. And she was on the bottom a hundred times more
because she was big and I was little.

Chapter 4

When it came time to wrestle (we always wrestled at a set
time, once a week) I took the initiative now. I did not let
her take off her clothes immediately, sometimes not at
all. There was something special, almost iridescent about
fondling her with her clothes on. It was a way for my domain,
the wrestling, to trespass on her domain, everything else.
I got to put my hands on the clothed Aunt Myrna. I came behind
her and grabbed her breasts fondling them through her blouse
and big underwire bra. I pulled her to me. With her clothes
on, she was the dignified woman who ordered me to put away
my clothes. It was that woman whose breasts I was grabbing.
When I stood behind her with my arm around her throat in chokehold,
pressing the collar of her silk blouse against her neck,
it was the lady who made me turn off the television whom I
was choking. It was the lady who made me take out the garbage
whose arm I was twisting behind her back.

I tied her wrists behind her back again when I had reluctantly
taken off her clothes. I didn’t blindfold her. I wanted
her to see and savor every indignity I committed on her.
I bent her over on her knees. Without the use of her arms,
she was not upon hands and knees but on face and knees. My
legs were much shorter than Aunt Myrna’s so even though
she was on her knees and face, she still had to crouch way
down to lower herself to where I could enter her conveniently.
That was good because it was good. It was also good because
it confronted me with the vastness of Aunt Myrna’s butt
and hips, the lush thickness of her waist, the wide solidity
of her shoulders, the ponderous pendulousness of her breasts,
the columnar thickness of her thighs. I was like a rich landowner
surveying his wide estate with pleasure and satisfaction.

From behind it was not only Aunt Myrna’s muff that presented
itself. Mounting Aunt Myrna from behind became an especial
pleasure because it was the one thing she didn’t particularly
care for. Once she had been to a museum board reception before
our wrestling. I did not let her undress. I mounted her from
behind still wearing the long black formal dress she had
worn to the reception, her blue rinsed hair still immaculately
coiffed. I imagined I was doing it to her with all the museum
board members looking on in horror. I was especially active
and excited that time and went on for a long time. So was she.
Because I lay on her back to mount her, not even bothering
with my feet, my weight on her back forced her face into the
carpet, twisted her neck. I deliberately draped myself
on her, my weight on her hips, her back, her face, and on the
entry itself. I clung for balance not to her shoulders,
but wrapped my hands around her neck. I hammered away, both
slow and fast, at her behind. She was as out of breath as I
was by the time I finished. The dress was wet.

Chapter 5

One thing I liked to do was make Aunt Myrna kneel under my
desk and take down there in her mouth while I pretended to
study. This made her into a mere utility which I scarcely

Another practice of our practice was to tie my Aunt Myrna’s
wrists together and then tie her bound wrists to a hook on
a rafter high above her head. I pulled the upper rope just
tight enough that she partly stood on her feet, partly hung
by her wrists, strung up. I had an improvised cat of nine
tails that I used to beat her with. That excited her. I would
untie her from the hook but keep her wrists bound. Then I
threw her down and got on top of her. I put down there in her
and she was off in a moment. I loved it as much for the wild
ride of her bucking and leaping as for the thing itself.
My weight restrained her no more than if I had been a teddy
bear and I clung desperately to her while she threw me around
like a rag doll. It was all the more exciting and remarkable
a performance given that her wrists were bound behind her
all the while. She was utterly spasmodic. I privately called
it ‘Aunt Myrna’s Rodeo’. My part in it was mainly just to
hang on as best I could.

I discovered another excellent combination was the chokehold,
hammerlock, and rear mount. The choke and the hammerlock
combined with the disliked rear entry to give an experience
of infliction. That made it work for Aunt Myrna. Making
the hammerlock rhythmic with the hammering helped too.

Chapter 6

I took to deliberately violating the rules to get even with
Aunt Myrna if she had been too disciplinarian. She was upbraiding
me for not washing the dishes when it was my chore. Without
a word I put both hands under her blouse and grabbed her breasts.
She continued to tell me about my responsibilities to do
the dishes as though nothing had happened. I pushed her
down on the kitchen floor and she continued to lecture me
about the dishes. I don’t know why but this excited me. Now
I wasn’t putting down there in the muff of the eccentric
lady who my aunt became once a week. This time I was getting
on top of my Aunt Myrna, my mother’s elder sister. The effect
on me was like the effect of the cat of nine tails on her. When
the spasm came it went on and on and on. I couldn’t stop it
and I didn’t want to stop it.

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Very hot story really enjoyed reading the story and had
a hot time loved it wow wish you could write more chapters


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man that was outstanding. love to do that to my play mates


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Great story! Made me wish I had the same relationship with
my Aunt. Keep them coming!


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I have an aunt in Cleveland who did some of the same stuff
to me when I was about 15...She was a little smaller, but
did the same things and it was the learning experience of
a lifetime...great story....


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excellent story, will you continue.


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Wow! This story has kept "down there" erect
for quite some time...excellent article and what an education.
Lucky you, lucky Auntie and lucky us, thanks for sharing
it with us.


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Really a wow narrative It just goes to show you a nice blue
haired lady has wants and needs and she should


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I am looking forward to being your Aunt Myrna. OK?


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I had a lot of the same things happen to me by three different
aunts and a few of their friends that used to babysit me.
I didn't feel any child abuse, I loved every minute
of it. That's why I get so turned on by older women today.
I would absolutely love for you to be my aunt myrna.I don't
think that I have had a hard on for that long since I was sixteen.


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What a great aunt you have. I have had a few experiences with
my aunt as well. I get hard down there every time I think about
it. Keep up the stories. Loved it!