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Aunty Rose: Summer Heat

Aunty Rose makes an impression on a young married couple
I thought my husband was joking when he claimed that one of the neighbours was flirting with him. It turned-out that he hadn’t been exaggerating as I saw her doing it at a friend’s barbeque. ‘Rose’ was fluttering her eyelashes and touching him unnecessarily, but it was when she laughed at one of his stupid jokes that I knew she wanted him. I moved in to protect my man. I’d had a couple of glasses of red wine and Rose was in serious danger of getting a slap if she didn’t back-off.

Matt, my husband, sensed the tension and sensibly went to join the men, doing whatever men do when they gather round the barbeque. I was feeling a little tipsy, having had little to eat all day and I was spoiling for a fight as I’d found myself in a similar position before – a woman knows when she needs to step in to protect her husband from a glamorous assassin.

“Your husband’s quite the looker,” Rose said, casually moving into my personal space. I was about to say something quite rude but she stopped me in my tracks. She leant forward and whispered, “But I have to say that you’re the one making my juices flow.”

I was shocked.

Rose backed-up the comment by lifting her sunglasses and openly examining my body. Only men had looked at me like that. I knew she was mentally undressing me and found myself getting flustered. Flirting with my husband had made me angry – but flirting with me? I’m ashamed to say that I was getting aroused by the openness of her lust. I gulped the contents of my wine glass as I felt my skin flush with excited embarrassment. Rose insisted that she get me a refill.

My eyes dropped as she handed me the glass, trying to escape from Rose’s intense gaze and I found myself looking at her cleavage. Realising what I was doing, I looked away but knew that I’d been caught. “I think I’ll just go and check my make-up,” I said, trying to find an excuse to flee.

“Oh, good idea,” Rose gushed and we were suddenly walking arm-in-arm to the house. We climbed the stairs to the bathroom and I couldn’t help but take a peek up Rose’s tiny skirt. I admired her legs and even caught a glimpse of her bum. If she was wearing underwear, it was much skimpier than anything I would choose.

We were side-by-side looking into the bathroom mirror with the door locked behind us. My heart was thumping wildly. There was something happening to me and I was desperate to get away before I lost control completely. I tried to be cool, putting some lipstick on as Rose pouted and adjusted her minimalist make-up. But as I watched her rub her lips together my mind suddenly filled with images of those lips wrapping around my husband’s cock and then even more shockingly, I imagined them sliding over my pussy. And my mouth sliding overs hers.

Rose had said that I made her juices flow.

I gasped at the dirty thought and Rose turned to look at me. She was looking expectant, waiting for something. I was too - I wanted her to kiss me. There was no way that I could take the lead in this – and Rose obliged. She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine and I kissed back instantly with all the enthusiasm I could muster.

Her lips were soft and puffy, and I enjoyed the smooth stickiness of our fresh lipstick as it mashed together. I melted – I was snogging another woman. What would my husband think?

Rose took the oral lead and I responded as I felt her tongue tease its way into my mouth. But I raised the stakes as I reached down between her legs to satisfy my question as to whether she was wearing underwear.

She wasn’t.

My fingers found bare flesh. No knickers and no pubes. Just slippery smooth skin. I had never felt anything like it. Not a word was spoken as Rose gripped my wrist and guided my fingers to where she wanted them. She gasped and moved her mouth from against my lips to nibble my earlobe.

“Rub my clit,” she said. “Make me come.” My fingers were moving over her most private flesh but they felt like those of a teenage boy getting to second base for the first time. What to rub and how?

I was surprised that I couldn’t really distinguish the details of her pussy. My fingers slipped around Rose’s greasy gash and it gave me a sexual thrill when my fingers tips followed the folds of her labia and Rose gave a groan of satisfaction.


I felt like less of an amateur and rubbed her in the way that I love to be rubbed. “Harder,” she whispered into my ear. I did it harder, feeling the nub of flesh slip out from under the pressure of my fingertips again and again. It wasn’t what I liked but Rose was making all sorts of appreciative noises and her body was writhing with pleasure.

As she moved, her legs interlocked with mine and I felt the sticky warmth of her excitement oozing onto my thigh. I could smell her musk and she gripped me as her hips bucked. She was very nearly humping my leg.

I rubbed faster, knowing that she could take it and Rose’s mouth opened with a mixture of shock and pleasure. As I increased the pace still further, Rose slipped her hand under my skirt and moments later her fingers probed the wet groove between my legs.

I would never have believed that I would let a woman do that to me but there was something disarming about Rose: she’d been totally honest and open about what she thought and what she wanted and had gone for it in a way that I would never have dared. It felt good to let her do what she wanted with me, scarily good.

My legs came open even wider, inviting her deeper into my pussy. Rose took my invitation and as I pushed two fingers deep inside her, it became a wonderful mirror image of masturbation as she did the same to me.

Rose got me. It was effortless and wordless. No-one, not even my husband, had ever fingered me so perfectly. It was all so… instinctive.

Suddenly, the gentleness was gone. Our fingers worked each other’s pussies harder and harder. It became impossible to tell who was leading and who was following. It was a frenzy of mutual masturbation. Rose’s body was straining for release but I climaxed first, desperately trying to keep my ecstatic cries under control.

As my hand stopped moving, Rose started humping my leg for real and it felt wonderfully perverted as she dragged her hot, slippery pussy up and down my thigh. She used my body to come and that made my climax even more powerful. Rose had obviously enjoyed humping my thigh and her orgasm had been enormous - judging by her whimpers and body-rocking spasms. As she pulled away, we could both see that my thigh was slick with her pussy cream and there was so much that it was running down into my shoes.

We stood for a few silent seconds, holding one another upright. “So…” Rose began. We might have only been in that bathroom for a few minutes but we had shared a climax of wonderful intensity and there was a spark of something that I didn’t want to let go of.

“I think we’d better go and find my husband,” I replied, smiling. Matt was surprised to see the two of us approaching together. But not as surprised as when we ushered him to the end of the garden and I took Rose’s wine glass as she dropped to her knees and extracted Matt’s cock. He was too confused to resist as Rose took his flaccid member and sucked it into life.

I couldn’t help but groan with lust as I watched Rose’s ruby-coated lips slide down my husband’s shaft. She took him more deeply than I had ever managed and Matt simply couldn’t resist. He grunted and he looked into my eyes as he spunked his load into Rose’s mouth or down her throat. The sexy spectacle combined with the wine to make the red of Rose’s lips too much to resist. I didn’t care who saw, I simply gave Matt the wine glasses and pulled her into a proper kiss.

It was so, so wrong, but it just felt so right.

We didn’t bother staying for the food – the only thing I wanted to eat was between Rose’s legs…

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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