Growing Up with My Aunt

An experience shared by Tom:

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I had an unconventional upbringing. I was raised by Aunt Beverly, my mother’s sister, who took me in and later adopted me after my parents and older sister were killed in a car wreck when I was 11 years old. I had hardly known my aunt before the accident; we lived in upstate New York and she was in Florida. But, circumstances being what they were, she was my closest relative, or at least my closest relative that was willing to take me in.

Bev was an RN in a hospital and worked evenings mainly. She was, and still is, a very nice, caring woman. She was single and not maternal at all, but she tried her best with having a young, introverted kid thrust upon her. As you can imagine, it took a while for me to adjust to my new life, and I kept to myself for the most part. After a year or so of living with Aunt Bev, I began to settle in, both with her at home and also in my new school.

During this time, I was going through puberty and my cock quickly became my best friend. I remember being hard non-stop and constantly horny. I began using a sock to jack off with (not the same sock every time, any sock would do), and soon I had far more pairs of crusty socks in the laundry than there were days in the week. I was also desperately trying to catch Bev naked, and I guess my efforts weren’t as subtle as I thought.

One day Aunt Bev sat me down and told me that we needed to have “The Talk.” She told me that she knew I was peeking at her when she was changing or showering. (I need to interrupt myself here. Bev was not a terribly attractive woman. She was rather pear shaped with smallish breasts and a wide bottom. Her face was pretty in a kindly way, soft features and wide blue eyes.) She told me that she had been single all her life and was not accustomed to closing doors and getting fully dressed whenever she left her room or the bathroom. She said that if I was so desperate to see “this,” she gestured down to her body, then I wouldn’t need to sneak around, just do what I had to do.

She went on to say that she knew boys had incredible urges and not to be embarrassed or ashamed. She handed me a paper bag that contained some magazines that she had bought for me: a copy of Penthouse and a copy of Hustler. (I still have them to this day.) She said that I’d probably enjoy looking at those women a lot more than looking at her body. She also handed me a jar of Vaseline and told me to use that in my hand rather than soiling my socks at such an alarming rate. She went to the linen closet and got me a few old towels and told me that they were now my “cum rags.”

I was deathly embarrassed at first, self-confidence wasn’t yet my strongest suit, and Bev took great pains to make me feel normal. Of course I jerked off to those magazines like a monkey watching the banana channel, and every few weeks Bev would ask if I needed more “inspiration” as she called it (why would I ever say no?), and she’d bring home more magazines full of naked ladies for me masturbate to.

She still was careless about covering up and I jacked off to visions of her nearly naked (mostly bra and panties, but once in a while a much too short tee shirt that she slept in), but I did quit perving on her for the most part. However, there is no substitute for a naked lady in the flesh and my teenage cock didn’t have an off button.

I was pounding out at least four or five loads a day. My morning wood was never wasted. I jerked off every morning upon waking (still do, unless my wife has a better idea). I usually managed to make it through the school day and practice for whatever sport was in season, but when I got home I was always near bursting. My aunt was an ICU RN and for years she worked the evening shift at a local hospital. That meant Monday through Friday (occasionally a weekend) from four to midnight, I had the house to myself. And boy did I use my freedom.

I jacked off the minute I walked into the house. Every day. My cock would get hard on the bus ride home in anticipation, and I would begin tearing my clothes off before I got the front door closed. I didn’t need naked lady pictures for that first load of the afternoon, or even lube. My pre-cum dripping cock would spring urgently from my shorts as I kicked them off, and quite often I wouldn’t even make it to my room to get a cum rag. I’d stand just inside the door and beat off mercilessly for a few seconds and splatter my load right there on the foyer tile floor.

I would feel a tangible sense of relief after my first afternoon cum. I was able to think more clearly, and I’d do my homework and my chores (laundry and dishwasher) before my cock refocused my needs. It occurred to me one evening as I was settling in with Miss November or whomever, that my aunt was using my masturbation as a kind of babysitting service. Many of my friends in school were latchkey kids (while I don’t know if the term existed then, the concept did), and TV or older siblings were used as surrogates. My aunt knew that my need to jerk off kept me out of trouble. Plus, I was a good, dependable, if extremely horny, kid. She admitted to me later in life that she knew that if I had a cock and a right hand my behavior would be pretty predictable.

My dinners usually consisted of heating up a meal that Aunt Bev had prepared before she left for work, sandwiches, or salads. Or she’d leave cash to get a pizza delivered. Maybe not the most nutritious but, hey, I was fourteen and fifteen. I’d eat anything.

My favorite time of day was my aunt’s nightly phone call. She’d take her dinner break between 9:30 and 10:00PM and call me. My bedtime was ten and each night I’d get into bed a few minutes early and start to stroke my cock, often trembling with excitement, waiting for the phone to ring. I had to take care to pace myself because although I would have already jerked off quite a few times earlier in the day, when I heard the phone ring I’d have a near Pavlovian response and would have to literally squeeze my cock painfully to prevent myself from cumming.

My aunt would ask me about my day, tell me about hers, all normal things as I masturbated and listened to her. I didn’t usually say too much, couldn’t without gasping or groaning. There was nothing overtly sexual about her conversation for the most part. She might ask me if I liked a new magazine she’d gotten for me, or what I liked about it (if she mentioned a particular picture or set of tits or ass I’d always cum immediately), or if I was running low on lube, or if she’d find any surprises I may have inadvertently left around the house. I was pretty diligent about cleaning up my loads, but I did miss some spots every now and again. It certainly wasn’t phone sex, but it was incredibly exciting to me. I was sure that she was able to hear my slippery fist sloshing lube as I stroked my cock, and that made me shiver with arousal. I could never hold out for long, and I’d cum as silently as I could listening to my aunt’s voice, blasting my load all over my naked body.

Aunt Bev knew that I was masturbating during her nightly phone calls, she told me one night (which obviously made me cum hugely) and said that she was happy that she could help me get to sleep. Which she did. Whenever I’d cum on the phone with her, she’d hear my breathing change as I’d spurt and then relax. She’d say goodnight to me and tell me that she loved me.

Things got a bit more overt during the course of the next few years. My aunt and I never had any physical relations, but most of our inhibitions were dropped. I spoke to Aunt Bev the other day and told her about my sharing this experience. She liked the idea and she reminded me of quite a few other things, which I can write about if anyone is interested.

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A Little More with Aunt Bev >>

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One thought on “Growing Up with My Aunt

  1. I know I would love to hear more about you and your aunt. You wrote a great story. I would masturbate 5 or 6 times a day even when I had a girlfriend. And more on the weekends!

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