The first time I saw Leanne, I was wanking. The second time too. Which should come as no surprise really, as I’m always wanking. When Violet isn’t spreading her thighs and showing me everything she’s got by the light of her impressive new TV, I seek visual stimulation elsewhere and, thankfully, it is all around me.

There’s a park at the end of our road. It has no playground, no flat areas for ball games, and it’s relatively small so no kids play there, but it’s a magnet for dogs and their owners. The 'dog bog', I call it. A steady procession of canines and their companions provides me with an embarrassment of wanking material. Though I’m perving all-year-round, summer is obviously best, when short skirts and vest tops give me the best views. And it was summer when Leanne first appeared. July the fourteenth to be exact, an appropriately hot and sticky summer’s day.

I’d come close to shooting over the widow from number 64, whose terrier always takes a fancy to the lamppost at the end of my drive. It runs circles around it, sniffs and repeats, over and over. More often than not, she tugs on his tether, curses quietly then cries, 'Come on, Charlie!' and drags him away. But on this memorable day, the tall nameless blonde waited patiently, skilfully letting out the lead and spooling it back in, rotating her shoulders and stretching her back between occasionally squatting to pat Charlie’s little black and white head. For some reason and despite the glare, she swivelled her sunglasses up from her eyes and rested them on the top of her head. As per usual, Widow 64's almost pretty face was heavily made-up, her shoulder-length hair coiffured to perfection. Each squat took her short skirt higher, showed off a little more of her skinny bronzed thighs and I reckoned it was only a matter of time before I saw more than she would have wanted me to see. As well as almost seeing her knickers, I could see right down her scanty yellow top to where the sagging flesh of her generous tits overflowed her black bra. Through Jeff's battered old bird-watching binoculars, I zoomed in on the battered old bird, even fancied I could spy the arc of a dark brown areola. The world beyond both the widow and my window began to blur as the background hum of dirty pleasure rose to a depraved primal scream. A familiar film began to play in which I fucked the skinny bitch up her skinny arse, slapped her skinny flesh and pulled her perfect hair till her orgasmic screams brought the whole street out to watch our animalistic rutting.

A honked horn and the squeal of tyres on tarmac broke the spell, snagged the spinning spool till the freeze-framed celluloid blackened then burned through. My fist somehow stilled. I released my grip. Loins pulsed, once, twice, yet my powder - and the T-shirt on the floor between my knees - remained dry. That was admirable! My eyes refocused onto the sunlit street. Both Widow 64 and her dog were gone. In their place, a red Toyota saloon. Gravel crunched as the front wheels turned hard right and rolled onto Violet’s drive.

The engine’s gentle thrum ceased. In its place, the thump-thump of an indeterminate rock track permeated the humid air; I struggled to name it, but it was almost all bass drum and, annoyingly, its provenance evaded me. I grabbed my tool once more and began to wank in time to the beat, my eyes fixed on the driver’s door, praying for a fantasy fix.

Music died. The door clicked and swung open. A hand appeared. A bare foot. A naked leg. Blonde hair. A head. A naked torso. Another leg. Fuck! Beyond my wildest dreams! My fist was pounding now, my breathing laboured. Stand there! Please! Just stand there you fucking beauty till I am done with you! She stood. She gazed around. Fuck and fuck again! She was petite, to say the least, surely no more than five feet tall. I fucking love petite. But for the curves, she could have been sixteen or seventeen - not that I love teenagers only. Obviously. I just adore diminutive doll-like women. And was she a doll! Honeyed tits were almost out of the skimpiest white bikini. Honeyed arse was out too, the thong snared somewhere deep between her plush cheeks. Large rounded sunglasses slid from the top of her head and hid her doubtlessly pretty face before I'd even seen it, but I didn't mind - the tits and arse, the flat stomach above a rounded pudendum and a hint of pussy lips showing through the tight thong were more than enough stimulation. If only I’d had my phone handy! The resultant film would have fuelled many a future wanking frenzy. The regret delayed my orgasm, but only by a dozen or so strokes. This was it and it was going to be sensational.

Violet's front door opened. My lover stepped into view. My lover. The phrase set my climax even further back. Yes, we were lovers: since that first time in her kitchen, we had done everything sexual either of us had ever wanted to do - and we were still pushing the boundaries: indeed, that very evening, with Rachel on a night out with some work colleagues, Vi was going to do my arse with the huge strap-on she'd recently bought from Amazon. No one would have guessed how hot and dirty this dear old lady could be. The old looked the young up and down and cackled in that throaty way of hers.

'Leanne! What are you wearing?'

She cackled again then stepped forwards and clasped her semi-naked visitor to her hunched and seemingly frail body, which, I hasten to add, was not frail at all. Believe me! I'd regularly ridden it to near destruction and it had always - touch wood - always held up.

'It's so hot, Auntie Vi! I couldn't bear to wear anything more.'

Vi released her grip, held her niece at arm's length and gazed lovingly into her face. Leanne. So this was the girl she'd spoken so fondly of, the youngest daughter of her dead husband's youngest brother. It had taken me a moment to get my head around that description and then several more to get my head around everything else she had told me. The adjectives ‘troubled’ and ‘damaged' had been applied to her, though, from this distance at least, she looked neither. If I were selling this perfect little thing then ‘mint in box’ would have been my description, if not ‘fucking mint in fucking box’.

Vi's gaze suddenly shifted and, through the narrow gap in my blind, our eyes met. Could she really see me, or did she instinctively know I'd be there? She was transfixed for so long that the girl turned and followed her stare, lifted her sunglasses for a better view and squinted, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun with a saluting hand. She was, as I had predicted, very pretty indeed, her face as impossibly doll-like as the rest of her. Wearily shaking her head, Vi turned and quickly ushered the girl into her house. With a last glance at my first-floor bedroom window, she closed the door.

My well-trained fist was still moving, though the enclosed flesh was now noticeably softer. I tried to picture the girl again, imagined tugging down that skimpy thong and feasting on those swollen lips, but all I could see was Vi's shaking head. The softening theme continued. Damn! But what was this? A flurry of familiar yelps set my pulse racing again. Striding into view, the tall black woman from number 48 - the big bungalow around the corner - her little dog tugging its lead so hard it was walking on its hind legs. Black 48 moved elegantly, like a model, her long, raven hair flowing behind her. The cambered tar and gravel was instantly glamorised, infinitely more catwalk than dogwalk. My eyes rolled up her long bare legs, from her sandalled heels to the high hem of her beautifully tailored shorts. They fixed on her rounded arse as it oscillated machine-like in the skintight confines of the khaki cloth. It was beautiful. Fucking beautiful. The dog’s yelps became her yelps as I speared her reluctant sphincter with my rigid tool, tugged on her tits and hammered against her firm slapping flesh. In rhythm with her slowly pumping arse cheeks, I too pumped then pumped and pumped some more, till my speeding cum audibly splattered the radiator and dripped obscenely onto the waiting shirt.

+

'He wanks while watching women walking their dogs. He's a bit sad, really.'

We were in the garden, lounging on loungers, soaking up the sun and sipping G & T's. Auntie Vi's whispered response to my query took me aback. I spat.

'Dirty old sod!' You ought to call...'

She interrupted my stock response with a hiss.

'He's not old. Quite young, really... Anyway, what were we saying?'

'I was asking you about the pervert over the road. Is he married?'

'No, before that!'

'But I want to know about the pervert!'

Auntie Vi sighed wearily.

'Leanne, dear, he isn't a pervert.'

'He sounds like one!'

'Well, he's not. Anyway...'

Like the Iron Lady, whose autobiography my sexy politics lecturer had suggested I read, I was not for turning.

'So is he married?'

Another weary sigh.

'I don't know...'

'He lives over the road and you don't know if he's married?'

Obviously agitated, Auntie Vi peered anxiously around then placed an index finger to her lips before continuing.

'I really don't want to talk about him. So can we please leave it? Your mum said you're taking a gap year. Are you going to work? Travel?'

I tamely shrugged. Heedless, she swept onwards.

'If you’re travelling, please take someone with you. Have you a... a boyfriend?’ And then, obviously as a further distraction, she became uncharacteristically PC. ‘Er... a girlfriend? Bi, trans, questioning...?'

I was totally intrigued. Something was going on here and there was no way I was going to let it go. A thought appeared from nowhere.

'Does he...' I hesitated before plunging in. 'Does he watch you?'

As her face froze, she coloured. And then she coloured some more.

'Another drink?'

She motioned to rise. I swirled my glass. The ice clinked.

'No, thanks. I'm driving.' I leaned towards her, lowered my voice and rasped. 'Auntie Vi, does the dirty, sad, wanking fucker across the road spy on you?'

I knew she forbade bad language at her house, but, for once, she ignored it. Her shrug - cleverly echoing my own avoidance technique - caused her dangling tits to bounce in their black bikini cups. My eyes swept over her. For an old girl, she was surprisingly physically tidy. In total contrast to her crumpled old face, her bronzed body was almost girlish and I doubted mine would look half as good at her age, or even half her age. Then I noticed something else.

'What's that on your thigh?'

She jumped slightly and, even through her sunglasses, I saw the terror in her eyes.

'What? Where?'

Her hands fell to her lap. She looked down and pretended to examine her upper legs, though I knew she really wasn't looking at all. I reached out an arm, pointed a finger to just below her bikini bottoms and giggled.

'That! There! Auntie Vi! Is that a love bite?'

'Oh, that?' She licked a finger then rubbed the mark as if she could erase it. 'I had an accident at the gym.'

'What,’ I giggled again, ‘someone accidentally gave you a love bite on your inner thigh at the gym? That's one gym I would join!'

The cool gloom of the house was a relief. She came back from the bedroom wearing her ancient silk dressing gown and slumped in the armchair opposite to mine. She looked suddenly older and I was sorry for the pain I had obviously caused her. Creased and veiny hands covered her face. Her sad, crying face.

'You have to promise...'

I leapt in with another stock answer.

'I can't make a promise without knowing what it is I'm promising! That can lead to all sorts of trouble, that can!'

'Leanne! For fuck's sake!' That had my attention. I had never heard Auntie Vi swear. With a sweep of a hand, she wiped her face and then leaned forwards. 'Get fucking real! If the rest of the family find out, they'll disown me!'

'Disown you?' I was incredulous. 'Why?'

'It's not been nearly long enough since... since... In their eyes, I'd be pissing on Jeff's memory.'

I sniffed incredulously.

'Come on, Auntie Vi! They're not that bad!'

But in truth, I knew they were. Though it was several years ago, they had never forgiven me for what had happened with Uncle Jim. Jim was not my real uncle, but Dad's best friend who I'd always called uncle for some reason. I was eighteen at the time and he was forty-nine. How the fuck was that ever my fucking fault? Anyway... That was history. Secret history. Known only to four - Mum, Dad, Jim and me. They insisted it stay that way. It was still-painful history to me, but what the fuck. The memories inspired me to ask a question, a really juicy question, one I fancied might have an even juicier answer - Vi and Jim had always been big buddies and there were murmurs that - despite the age difference - they might once have been lovers themselves.

'Who is it then? Come on! Tell me! Surely not Uncle Jim?'

Her eyes were so wide, I swear I could see her soul. And then I actually could.

'Look. We have sex. All kinds of sex.’

I was flabbergasted.

‘Who? You and Jim?’

She winced.

‘No! What? After what he did to you?' Oh, maybe not so secret after all. Anyway, he'd done nothing to me that I had not begged for. Auntie Vi winced again. 'Not fucking likely! Me and... and...' She nodded her head in the direction of the house across the road. 'That's it. That's my secret. And yes, before you ask again, he is married.’

‘Fuck, Auntie Vi!’

‘Look, I'm ashamed of it... and yet I'm glad of it. So fucking glad of it. Now do you understand?' She mistook my silent incredulity for silent incredulity of an entirely different type and lashed out with a dangerously pointing finger. 'After Jeff died, obviously! When I was all on my own! Fuck, Leanne! Fuck! What do you fucking take me for?'

Four in one delivery. Wow! I was suitably admonished.

'I... I never imagined... while Uncle Jeff... Honest! I never imagined!'

I had never imagined it. Any of it. She stood slowly and came to me, knelt between my legs and hugged me, her heavy old head resting between my firm young tits, her droopy old silk-clad tits resting on my naked thighs. Her tears dripped like the runniest spunk, wetting my bikini top and delineating a rising nipple. Both by my associations and my physical reactions, I suddenly realised I was turned on - and not by Auntie Vi's proximity, I hasten to add, but by the thought that she was still doing it, probably doing it in this very room - perhaps every room in the fucking house - and with a guy around half her age. I had to ask, though, to he honest, I already had a fair inkling.

‘So why all the pervert talk? What was that about?’

‘Because I was afraid...’ She pensively bit her lip. ‘It was... a... a red herring, sweetheart.’

‘Oh. Okay. But why?’

Her eyebrows rose asymmetrically, further twisting her ironic smile.

‘Have you looked in the mirror recently?’

I not only feigned shock, I was actually shocked.

‘Auntie Vi! As if I’d be interested in some middle-aged pervert!’

Her eyebrows arched even higher. Ah. Yes. Fair enough. My track record wasn’t good there. To be honest, Jim had never stood a chance. Not a fucking chance. I had always wanted him to break me in, and when the chance came, I grabbed it. I loved older men, especially married older men, had never been even vaguely interested in boys my own age. So perhaps, as Mum and Dad had made it quite clear to me at the time, it actually was my fault. Who even knows? Soon after all the dust had settled, Jim was accused of 'messing' with someone even younger than I had been. Maybe that was my fault too...

Auntie Vi rose and kissed me on the cheek, her eyes pleading, her dry lips quivering.

'Please don't say anything to your dad, your mum. Not to anyone. The shame...’

I shook my head. Not that I could ever have broached such a subject with Dad. Even if he'd been speaking to me, he would never have understood. Though years younger than his brother Jeff, he was somehow of an older generation, almost Victorian in his outlook. And, as you may already have gathered, Mum was no better. No, there was no one I could tell and no one I wanted to tell. If Auntie Vi were getting her kicks with this guy - pervert or not - who was I to judge? It was unconventional, but so what? Jim had been three times my age with three daughters older than me, and I had loved every fucking minute of it. It broke my teenage heart when it all came out and, as you may already have guessed, I had never really recovered, was still fucked up beyond reckoning. I instantly and easily promised myself I would not expose Auntie Vi to any of that.

'Not a word. I swear. Not to anyone. I'm pleased for you.' I smiled a genuine heartfelt smile 'Really pleased. Fuck me!' Wonder and not a little admiration shook my grinning head. Perhaps fuelled by the gin, or perhaps by the sex chemicals that swirled through my system, I felt suddenly emboldened. 'What's he like?' I winked. 'Yer know?'

'Leanne!'

She looked suitably shocked. I smirked and tried again.

'Go on! What's he like?'

Her face softened. While smiling an almost dirty smile, she perched on the edge of her chair then paused as if about to commence a long and saucy monologue.

'He's... big.' Her brows rose and fell. 'Very big.' I gasped, then giggled, hadn't expected such instant intimate revelations. Her eyes became those of a lovestruck teenager. 'And he can go all night. All. Fucking. Night.'

‘Fuck!’

She leaned further forward, twisted her mouth and squeezed close one eye and I knew she was considering sharing something, something that till that moment she had intended to keep to herself.

‘The pervert bit was over the top,’ her sniff was reflective, ‘though it wasn't a complete lie - he does wank while watching women walking their dogs. Morning, afternoon, evening.' She cackled. 'All the fucking time, to be honest! He's quite open about it, well, with me at least. I don't mind. It harms no one.' Her old eyes narrowed and the dirty smile returned. 'And he wanks while watching me too. I love giving him something to watch. I feel so alive when I know he is watching me...’

Her eyes momentarily glazed over. A conspiratorial nod to her perennially open curtains spoke volumes. It was my turn to be suitably shocked.

'Auntie Vi!'

She was on a roll now.

'I've never felt so wanted. So desired. So... sexy! He's hot. So fucking hot.'

'What about his wife?'

Again the smile.

'I don't know. I've only had him, sweetheart.' She winked. 'So far, I've only had him.'

Auntie Violet went to the shops for some bits for tea. I offered to give her a lift, but she declined, said she both enjoyed and needed the walk. She added that she usually bumped into someone for a chat and said those encounters were the cornerstone of her social life, so who was I to argue? She said make yourself at home. So I did.

+

Music. Loud thumping music. It came from across the road. I peered through the downstairs window. The car, the red Toyota, was still on Vi's drive. Its delicious owner was nowhere in sight. And then there she was. In her left hand, a bucket and a sponge, while Vi's dripping bright yellow hosepipe dangled from her right. I dashed upstairs, tore off my shorts and underpants and, stark naked, took up my regular spot by the window. I'd be wearing kneeholes in the bedroom carpet at this rate.

Though I had cum no more than an hour beforehand, I was hard in moments. As I toyed with my glans, she similarly twiddled with the hose-end. The sudden spray hit the bodywork, reflected back onto her and soaked her through. She squealed then laughed before deftly taking control of the powerful flow. The once white bikini was now all but transparent. By refocusing Jeff's old binoculars, I could see her nipples quite clearly, while her pubic landing strip also sprang nicely into view. Christ! She was fit as fuck and showing almost everything she'd got, standing on tiptoe and stretching across the bonnet then pressing her tits into the windscreen, much like the hot whory tease in an old black and white prison breakout film I'd once seen. But this was real and in full colour and infinitely, infinitely hotter.

Now the soapy bit. Oh, God! How she massaged that bodywork! So wrapped up in her work was she that not once did she look up or glance around. Now the music took her and she moved in time with it, gyrating her hips and dancing round the car as though starring in one of those soft-porn soft-rock videos. Suds were everywhere. I realised she was covered in them. She seemed to simultaneously realise it too and held the hose above her head to rinse herself off. Incredibly, she took out her tits one by one and removed all the soapy residue by sensuously rubbing and squeezing. When she popped them back in, the nipples protruded obscenely through the wet cloth. I'd stopped myself cumming at least a hundred times by that point, yet still I held back, edging and ogling in equal measure till I was unable to touch myself for fear of uncontrolled ejaculation. And then she did this. And I spontaneously spurted my cream.

A thumb tugged at the triangle that barely covered her pudendum. The hosepipe eased slowly, perpendicularly, down inside the sopping material. Her eyes closed in bliss and she threw back her head. Even through the cloth, it was obvious that the hose was nestled between her lips, pissing its contents through the tight weave and out into a disbelieving world. Then she turned it back onto herself and shuddered with the pleasure the spurting water gave her. A moan left her lovely lips. And another. And yet another, longer and lower. Knees splayed, she staggered blindly sideways and leaned against the car for support. And then she came.

At least, I think she came. That was the point at which my own orgasm both blinded and deafened me. When I came round, she was still standing there, her backside pressed into the car door, her head bowed and arms hanging limply by her sides. The now inert hose lay prone on the ground, much as my spent dick lay limply across my palm. Slowly, she raised her chin, turned her head and her big blue eyes met mine. She grinned and gave me a coy little wave. Honestly. That's what she did. And then she did this. The sexy little bitch did this. Shielded from the rest of the street by the now gleaming car, and with her smouldering eyes never leaving mine, she stripped, took off her bikini, unclipped the top and lowered the bottoms, till she stood naked before me. She sensuously bit a finger then swept her dripping hair from her lovely face before stepping slowly, seductively, back towards the car. The door opened, the music flared then died and the door clicked closed once more. A chirp and double flash of indicators told me it was locked and that this wondrous episode was over. After picking up and then wringing out her dripping bikini, she sidled her naked sexy arse back into the house.

 +

I threw my bikini over Auntie Vi's washing line then drip-dried myself while pacing her lawn. Five minutes. It was all I dared wait. Well, more like four and a half, actually and every second was torture. On stepping through the door, I looked up and down the road, listening for cars, footsteps, anything, and heard nothing. Dressed only in Auntie Vi's old dressing gown and with my damp hair tied back, I hurried across the street on tiptoe, gingerly avoiding the roughest patches, wincing whenever my sole met with a grain of loosened gravel. And there were plenty of those. The cool of the shaded lawn soothed my poor feet. And then I was there. At the pervert's door. Heart pounding and not a little light-headed, I raised my fist then noticed the bell. Ding, dong, ding. His shadow crossed the glass.

'Vi! What are you...?'

Too late he realised his mistake. His door was open; my bare foot was inside his house. He wouldn't slam the door on my cute little foot, would he? Would he? He thought about it, definitely thought about it, before stepping back and letting go of the door handle. Only then did I see his face. Not what I expected at all. He was cute. Good looking, even, the stubble adding instant allure. And his body was fit, his naked torso slim yet muscled and his rounded arse very much at home in his denim shorts. And the bulge! The 'ooh, look, I've just cum' bulge. Delicious! What he saw in Auntie Vi was anyone's guess. I for one did not have the slightest clue. My purpose, if indeed I had a conscious purpose, was momentarily upended. I simply stared. He too was staring. At my chapel hat peg nipples. I couldn't blame him one bit. They really are something else. In the old nick of time, I reconstructed a reasonable reason for being there and found my sexiest voice.

'Can I come in?'

His eyebrows almost hit the chandelier-style light fitting above his head.

'Er, yes. I, er, suppose so.' He stepped even further back. 'Would you like a tea, coffee, anything...?'

I was on his doormat now. The door clicked closed behind me. I glanced around. It was modern, clean, minimalistic. Nice. A pertinent question crossed my mind.

'Are you alone?'

He looked and sounded uncertain. Almost afraid. He glanced around nervously.

'Yyyyesssss.'

'Are you really married? Only Auntie Vi...'

He cut me dead, his words swirling with unexpected undercurrents of annoyance.

'Yes. I'm married,’ he frowned, ‘though what business that is of yours...'

It was his turn to die. My pointing finger actually jabbed his sternum.

'If you hurt Auntie Vi in any way - any way at all - I'll have you, you bastard! You hear?'

My words seemed to hit home, but he was, like me, a well-practised liar and he quickly recovered.

'What? What are you on about?’ He sniffed while looking me up and down. ‘You come over here, naked but for Vi's dressing gown, nipples nearly poking my eyes out… Accusing me of… of… What exactly do you want?’

'I...'

The initiative, if I'd ever had or even wanted it, was gone and he knew it.

'Does she know you're here?' My mouth fell open, but I had nothing to say. He surmised the obvious. 'She doesn't, does she?'

'No.'

'So where is she?'

'Shopping.'

'Back soon?'

'Yes.'

'How long?'

I bit a finger end and looked coyly aside.

'We have about fifteen minutes, I'd say...'

The downstairs cloakroom was perhaps not the best choice, but it had its ups as well as its downs. There was room to suck him off, tit wank him too. And if I stood on the closed seat of the toilet bowl, he could quite easily lick me out. But before we got down to that, there was something I had to know: exactly how big was he?

After a brief, almost polite kissing intro, his shorts were impolitely around his knees. As they fell, I fell to mine and began to manually work on him. He shaved. I love that. So kissable. So suckable. Just from the smell of him, it was obvious he'd recently cum. As I peeled back his foreskin, his glans shone with spunky residue and his cock's eye pissed the final drop of his last ejaculation. Before I ingested, I had to confirm it was mine to drink.

'Did you cum over me while I cleaned my car?'

He shrugged.

'Yes.'

'That's okay then.'

He shot back.

'Did you cum as I watched?'

'Yes.'

He seemed dubious.

'Really?'

'Yes.'

I sucked and swallowed. I knew Auntie Vi had had this fucker between her lips - a thought that inspired rather than deterred - and I tried my damnedest to outdo her. Thankfully, and despite his very recent climax, he grew in my mouth. As my tongue twirled about him, I fondled his smooth balls and he grew even more. He was soon rigid. Long, fat, and very, very hard. Veins pulsed in time with his thudding heart. My heart thudded too.

‘You are so fucking big!’

‘Nah, not really. It only looks so big because your hands are so small.’

'No! It’s big! Auntie Vi said you...'

Oops. He cupped my face and lifted my head, forcing our eyes together.

'She talked about me?'

'Er... not really...' That wasn't going to cut it. I quickly decided to come clean. Well, clean-ish. 'Look, she has a love bite on her inner thigh. I wouldn't let it go, kept going on at her. Eventually, she just blurted it out.'

He looked really worried now.

'What did she tell you?'

Clean-ish turned decidedly dirty.

'That you fuck her. And, er... you watch her while she wanks... Well, I think that's what she meant. Oh, and that you jack off to women walking by.'

Eyes narrowed as he screwed up his face in obvious embarrassment.

'And er... you're okay with all of that?'

'Well, I'm here aren't I?'

I deep-throated then closed my teeth on his momentarily failing tool. It pulsed. He groaned.

'Mmm, yes, you're definitely here.'

He began to swell in my throat. Just before I gagged, I drew it out and kissed his tip.

'She was right. You are fucking big. I'm not sure it'll fit inside me!'

'Want to try?'

'Yes.'

It did.

First, and rather pedantically, I hung the dressing gown behind the door. After lowering the toilet seat, I stepped daintily onto it then wrapped my arms and legs around him and slowly impaled myself on him. He guided himself in then his strong hands cupped my arse cheeks and controlled his cock's incursion. Tiny girl that I am, he almost split me in half. When my stretched pussy lips finally rested against him, I snaked my arms more tightly around his neck and kissed him. With my tits pressed to his chest and my legs locked together above his tight bum, our thrusting tongues intertwined in eager anticipation of the pelvic thrusting that was about to follow. All the while, he effortlessly held me there.

Our combined body heat plus the searing heat of the day made the confined space almost unbearable. Beads of perspiration began to form on my tingling skin. They joined and ran, dripped from my nose and chin then drizzled between my tits. He was suffering similarly, his cheeks as red as his cock end had been. It was like fucking in a sauna, the sweat sticking our naked bodies together.

Without warning, he began to forcefully bounce me up and down. It almost - almost - hurt. And then it did. Just as I began to think I could take no more pain, pleasure stole up on me. At first, it merely dulled the pain and then it quickly and totally submerged it.

The fucking was lengthy, noisy and somehow necessarily violent. Again without warning, he lifted me off, plonked my feet back on the toilet seat and proceeded to eat my titties. When he'd had his fill of those, he ate my pussy, fingering and licking me right to the edge. He was very, very good. Much better than Jim had ever been. Inevitably, his slick fingers ventured towards my bum hole. Tightened buttocks stopped their progress.

'I don't enjoy that, sorry...'

I imagined what he and Auntie Vi got up to, knew anal must surely be on the table and so, not wanting to be less willing, less adventurous than my seventy something aunt, I reconsidered it myself, though found I could not overcome my initial reticence. But I promised myself. Next time. Yes, next time - if there were to be a next time - I'd give him my virgin arse to do with as he wanted.

As though shinning up a tree, I clambered onto him again, quickly took the full length of his hard prick inside my very slippery twat and rhythmically squeezed my pelvic floor. That was surely something Auntie Vi couldn't do! Well, not nearly as tightly as I could. His watering eyes told me I was right. Then, pussy still clenched like a vice, I bounced once more. He stood firm, his spread palms again supporting my arse cheeks. A tentative finger tickled my anus. I tightened my sphincter and playfully slapped his cheek.

‘Oi! Mister!’

He grinned.

'Can't blame a guy for trying?'

I thought of Vi then thought again and threw myself tumbling into the flow.

'If you promise to be gentle...'

He simultaneously grinned and groaned in disbelief. The finger probed then opened me and, aided by sweat and stray pussy juice, slid inside. A different kind of pain, but one I could definitely get used to. I whispered.

'Do me there?'

'You sure?'

I shrugged.

'No.'

He suddenly looked very serious.

'Say stop and I'll stop.'

I laughed.

'Ooh, that’s so very gallant of you, not to rape my arse!'

Laughing too, he lifted me off, hefting me like a mannequin, a hollow doll. He was deceptively powerful. I somehow loved the thought that he could have me whether I wanted him to or not, could fuck my arse till he squirted there, whether I flashed red, amber or green. That made me shudder with anticipation. With my palms pressed onto the cold ceramic cistern and my legs splayed around the toilet bowl, I offered my unsullied arsehole to him.

The washbasin lent him a dollop of squirty soap. It smelled of lavender. A second later, so did his cock. More of the cold gel lubricated my tightest of holes. I moaned.

'Please take it steady!'

Hands grabbed my hips. Blunt smoothness pressed against me. I relaxed all I could, but could tell it would never be enough. He pushed against me. Hard enough to make his stiff shaft flex. Tears stung my eyes.

'It's hurting me. I can't...' His grip tightened as he tried again. 'Please, I can't take it.'

Soap squirted then chilled my sphincter once more. A single finger slid up me. Deeper. And deeper. Oh, god! A playful buttock-slap broke the tension.

'You're ready now. Relax!'

I tried, tried so hard to do as he asked. His glans nosed its way into position. I grimaced. Held my breath.

A grunt and it was over. Even if I'd wanted to change my mind, it was too late. His whole cock was up me, buried deep in my intestines. Gasping, shaking and with my head spinning, I fought hard to subdue the natural reaction to expel him. The pain was exquisite. I reached between my legs and felt him there, his thickness spreading my bum hole wide. I started frigging myself. He grabbed my ponytail and began to bugger me.

Next time? What was I thinking?

Fuck next time!

This time!

The pervert was fucking my arse this time.

Fucking. My. Arse.

It was amazing.

If you've never tried it, don't put it off. Grab someone and do it! Now!

Between particularly slow and deep thrusts, I found breath to groan.

'If we keep doing this, I'm going to cum.'

He found breath for a groaned response.

'Oh, God...'

'Are you?'

'Yes.'

Despite my explicit warning, and his positive response to my cum query, we kept doing it. And doing it. And - fucking dirty fuckers that we undoubtedly fucking were - we kept doing it till we could do it no more. I felt him tense several times, heard his litany of oh gods peter out and knew he had filled me up. That thought carried me over the edge. I composed my own litany.

'Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck!'

By the time I stopped thrusting backwards onto him, I realised his cock was no longer inside me. I stood with legs spread, tits dangling, back arched and arse in the air, till my heart slowed and my breathing calmed. It was so quiet that, between the irregular drumming of sweat on the toilet seat, I heard cum splash onto the tiled floor - whether dripping from my numb bum or from his softening tool, I really couldn't give a fuck.

He suddenly fell to his knees behind me. Dropping my head further, I watched him through my legs as he lapped at my bum hole. I felt him open me, reclaim his own cum from my battered bowels and swallow. Fuck! That was dirty. Almost too dirty. But not quite.

When I finally straightened and turned towards him, I almost slipped on the now slick floor. He grabbed me forcefully by the wrists. Too forcefully to simply stop me falling. Confused, I momentarily struggled till I saw what I now took for tears in his wide eyes.

'I would never hurt your Auntie Vi. Never.’ His voice fell to a whisper and he gazed right into me. ‘You've got me by the balls. I'm in your hands. And so is she.'

I opened both my hands and heart.

'I would never hurt her either. I love her. Like a mum. No. More than that...'

'Then let's take care of her. She's been through a lot.'

Whether knowingly or not, his eyes told me quite clearly that he loved her too. Did Auntie Vi know that fact? Even suspect it? Fuck! This was complicated. What had I got myself into? I found a single word.

'Yes.'

'You've a strange way of showing it, Leanne, but I can tell you want the best for her.'

A smile played on my lips as his words played inside my head.

'You are the best for her - and I wanted you!' I sniffed a reflective laugh. 'Anyway, you should talk!'

He reflected my laugh right back at me.

'Yes, true.' Bending, he kissed my forehead. 'She is lucky to have you.'

Reaching up, I kissed his soft lips and tasted a hint of myself there.

‘She’s lucky to have you too.’

It was somewhat contrary. Yes. Perverse, even. No. Much more than that. What we had done was fucking deceitful at best. But we had a contract now, the pervert and I, had signed it in sweat, spunk and cunt juice, and it was forever binding. We'd look after the old girl. Yes, we'd look after her. I made a promise, both to myself and to him.

'Now I'm home for a bit, I'll visit her more. Much more. Keep an eye on her.' I winked. 'And you!'

The wink seemed lost on him. His eyes were still on me, but he was looking inside himself.

'I have all the time in the world, so between us...'

His words fizzled out. There was an elephant in the room and, perhaps because it was such a minuscule room, I found it suddenly too big to ignore.

'Don't you work?'

I immediately wished I hadn't asked. The man vanished. Fuck knows what took his place. Whatever it was, it hung its head.

'No, I... Sorry, I can't... I...'

There were tears in his eyes. What had I done? I hugged him.

'Hey! No problem. Sorry I asked!'

We held each other. The room was stifling and I was finding it hard to breath. I was about to peel our sweating bodies apart when he spoke. His voice was tiny, his words slow and deliberate. Soft lips brushed my ear.

'I used to work. All the time. When I could work, I worked so hard that now I can't. It...' he faltered, 'It will get better, so they say. Just a matter of time.'

'Look, if there's anything I can do...' I quickly qualified that, 'Not money or anything, cos, well, you know?'

He pressed a finger to my lips.

'Thank you, but Rachel earns enough for both of us - for four of us if there were four of us - so we're okay. No,' he screwed up his face and I thought he was going to cry, 'she's okay. Knowing she is supporting me makes me not okay.' He sniffed and I thought he was crying, but no, he was laughing. 'Why am I telling you this? I don't tell anyone. I'm...'

I did not want to know what he thought he was.

'You are lovely, caring, great at sex and a bit pervy. What's not to like?'

Standing again on tiptoe, I showered kisses on his loving face then wrapped the sheet of tired old silk around my sticky satisfied body and skipped back across the road.

The bikini was already dry. I slipped it on. I was just in time.

‘What you been up to?’

'I washed the car.'

'I can see. Wearing what?'

I did a twirl.

'My bikini. What else?'

Auntie Vi rolled her eyes, her single nod aimed across the street.

‘Was...?’

I grinned, maybe even coloured slightly.

I think so. I...' I laughed, 'I hope so!’

Was her facial expression real anger, or merely the mock? I really couldn’t tell. Her voice was similarly unreadable.

'You are definitely not your mother's daughter, young lady. Your dad's neither.'

'No. I'm more like yours.' A sob caught in my throat. 'I wish I was yours. I love you, Auntie Vi.'

She held me, hugged me and kissed me. I heard her sniff. I thought she was crying. If so, there was a lot of crying going on. Another sniff.

'Is that lavender?'

'Er, yes, I think so...'

'Nice.'

In silence, we embraced. What was she thinking? Would she work it out? Guilt was eating at me. Inside, I was screaming, 'It's the fucking soap your lover used to lubricate my virgin arse before he fucked me there and squirted there. It's still up there, mixed with his spunk. He ate my young cunt before that and I sucked his big hard cock. So hate me! Spit on me! Throw me out!' But guilt never haunted me for long. I knew it would take no more than a quick shower to wash it away.

At last, Auntie Vi broke the embrace. She kissed my hair.

'Stay here, if you like. Any time you like. The company would be good for me.' She clocked the uncertainty in my eyes, held me at arm’s length and immediately barked up the wrong tree. 'No pressure, Leanne, sweetheart. None at all. The ball is in your court. All you have to do is ask. That's all. Just ask.'

The pervert's cum oozing into my thong helped to quickly make up my mind.

'I'd love to, Auntie Vi. Fucking love to!'

Her old eyes twinkled and I dare say so did mine.

+

The dildo battered my innards. Her bony hand spanked my arse. She reached between my splayed thighs and grabbed my bollocks, tugged downward and backwards, till it seemed like she was trying to force them up my arse too. After one particularly powerful and painful penetration, she stilled her pelvic thrusts and held me there, my testes stretched to breaking point, my foreskin pulled as far back as it had ever been. In the silence that followed, bliss quickly turned to trepidation. I knew what was coming.

‘You fucked her, didn’t you?’

To say ‘who’ would have been an admission. A softening cock would have had similar connotations. I softened.

‘Who?’

The double bluff seemed to have worked, till she sniffed a quiet and somewhat bitter laugh.

‘I really didn’t think you would. But I certainly didn’t put it past her!’

She squeezed my poor ball sack even harder, gyrated her hips till the fake cock further stirred my very real and rather bruised insides. Three, four, five extra hard slaps stung my flesh then she pulled my hair till my back arched and my head snapped backwards. Tits pressed into my shoulder blades. Spittle wet my ear.

‘Bev saw her sneaking across the road. While I was out. And wearing my dressing gown. Stayed about fifteen minutes, apparently. And all the while her bikini was hanging on my line. What was that all about? Seems fairly noteworthy to me, but you never mentioned it? And neither did Leanne.’

Bev was Vi’s next-door neighbour. And a right nosy interfering bitch she was too! Or so I had heard, at least. She and her husband had taken early retirement, were almost always away somewhere, either caravanning or cruising, so I rarely saw them. But the fact she had witnessed both ends of Leanne's visit made me wonder: on the odd occasions they were home, was she watching me too? Was he watching me too? Did they watch together? Fuck! It was something I had not previously considered. I had to change the subject. I tried a well-worn distraction.

‘Mmm, you’re making me cum, baby... Better let go.’

She somehow squeezed my swollen sack even harder and dug her long curved nails in for extra effect.

‘So... tell me, lover, what was that all about?’

I hissed through the pain, the shame, and my clenched teeth.

‘She just wanted a chat.’

‘Leanne? Just a chat? Fuck off, Ali! You fucked her didn’t you?’

Now my cock was failing. The pain and shame made it inevitable. The clenched teeth didn’t help either.

‘No!’

‘Yes, you did! She fucking told me!’

Though my head was spinning, I managed to recall Leanne’s face - her troubled young face - and her trusting deep blue eyes. Her jabbing finger again stung my sternum while her threatening words burned my ears.

'If you hurt Auntie Vi in any way - any way at all - I'll have you, you bastard! You hear?'

Vi was bluffing. She had to be. I was certain. I called it.

‘No she didn’t! Because it never happened. Come on, Vi! As if! We talked. And that's all we did. In fact, she threatened me. Said if I ever hurt you...’ Talons tore at my testicles. ‘Aaaarghhh, Vi! Fuck! That hurts! Oh, fuck!’

Her vulturous grip suddenly released. I knew I had passed her test when the vibrator buried deep in her cunt began to buzz. She almost sobbed.

‘I believe you, baby. I’m sorry I doubted you. Fuck! I’m so sorry!’ She was stroking me now, fucking my arse as hard as she could and stroking me back to full length with a crushing grip. Though incredibly sore, my cock was once again like iron. She growled. ‘Cum for me, lover! Cum... Oh, god, yes! Oh, fuck! Cum!’

As Vi neared her climax, her movements always became spastic; the more spastic, the closer she was. And she was very, very close. Pelvic thrusts were random. Her wanking hand a manic blur. The impending orgasm swelled till it filled my whole body.

‘Fuck, I’m cumming, Vi. Pump it, baby! Fuck me harder! Harder! Yes! Yes! Deeper! Oh, yes! You cunt! You dirty cunt! You fucking dirty cunt!’

Obscenities always helped her over the edge. She was wheezing, moaning. Crying out. And then she simply wasn’t there.

I was cumming and, as per usual, I was on my own.

When I came down, I found I was spooning her, fondling her gorgeous tits and nibbling her ear. Long, thick, curved and slick, the strap-on was still strapped on. It reminded me it was almost pumpkin time. I had to get home. I whispered.

‘Vi? Vi, love?’

Nothing. She was sleeping. I gently covered her up, silently dressed and let myself out.

The streetlight at the end of my drive was out for some reason. As I crossed the moonlit street, I glanced furtively around. No footsteps but my own; no sound but the distant rumble of traffic. A quick shower, a cursory search for incriminating marks, and I’d soon be sound asleep. And long before Rach rolled in, pissed up and dying for cock: whenever she came home drunk, she was always dying for cock - if she hadn't already had her fill, of course. She was almost as big a whore as I was. And, even though I’d cum countless times in the last twelve or so hours, I’d be more than happy to oblige if she insisted - when drunk she said stuff, did stuff, she would never have said or done while sober.

Sudden movement in my eye corner caught my breath. There! A shadow. A silhouette. At Bev 82’s semi-darkened bedroom window. No! For fuck’s sake no! She'd already tried to come between Vi and me with her vindictive revelations. Would she tell Rachel what she'd seen? And how much would she tell her? About Leanne's little visit? About me visiting Vi? What else had she seen? Despite my rising panic, I took the initiative, stood up straight and walked as normally as I could. When I reached my side of the road, I turned and gave whoever was standing up there a little wave. Ridiculously, unexpectedly, the silhouette gave a little wave back.

+++++