We tried to settle down. It was a hopeless task. Every few seconds another dastardly road blemish sent us ricocheting off of our surroundings. More than once I had to push the baggage aside to prevent us from getting buried. We were giggling like kids, struggling to get positioned over and over again, limbs flying everywhere. It was more than a little exciting, with my Aunt’s chest obviously unencumbered by a bra, and like to put my eye out on a couple of occasions.
During a brief interlude of near smoothness, Aunt Marie leaned a bit toward the door and twisted her torso, looking at me. “Hang onto me, Jeremy. I don’t want you guys to have to recover my broken body after I get ejected from this wild ride.” She had her mouth inches from my ear, and I still could barely hear her.
I slid my left arm between her and the door, while my right arm encircled her waist. I tugged her in close. I gave her side a little squeeze, pinching imaginary love handles through her shirt.
“I take it back. No more than 5 lbs difference.”
She elbowed me. “Stop it. You’re just being mean now.”
We hit a particularly bad rut in the road, and we were both thrown toward the middle of the car. I tried to hang onto her, but her arms and legs were flailing, and almost clocked me. I caught a breast flush in the face, and instinctively opened my mouth, clamping on for a moment, until the momentum dragged her away from me.
“Harold!” Mom yelled. “Slow down before you get us killed! Another bump like that last one, and if I don’t get hurled out of the car, your nephew’s going to learn a lot more about his aunt’s anatomy than is proper.”
Dad finally slowed down, and probably none too soon. That last lurch left Aunt Marie’s legs spread-eagle in the air, and I found myself clutching her to my chest, one hand on her breast, and the other gripping the inside of her thigh just a hair’s breadth from her crotch. Her shirt had crawled up past her waist again, and looking down I got a really good look at those panties. Tiny pink ones, with an embroidered red heart and the word ‘Me’ written in girly cursive below. Heart Me. I’m sure you can understand how that resulted in an immediate change in my status below the waist.
I don’t know how long Aunt Marie let me grope her like that, but she eventually peeled my hand off of her thigh, and pulled her shirt down enough to cover her bottom. She reached for my other hand, loosened the death grip I had on her tit, and sat back upright. She smiled at me, as she put my hand back on her breast, patting it softly. I gave her a little squeeze. She moved her lips next to my ear. “Boob day.”
That set us to giggling again, and I gave her tit a nice long feel. She put her hand on mine again, “Gentle, Ok? And this stays between us.”
“I’ll be gentle,” I assured her. “I’ll be anything you want me to be.”
She smiled. “Do you like my panties? I wore them special for you.”
“I love them. And I do.”
“Do?”
“I do love you.”
She moved her mouth to my ear. “It’s not about that kind of love. Know what I mean?”
I nodded mutely, while I struggled with the agony of my cock hardening while still bent in half. She must have noticed my discomfort. “Am I too heavy?” she asked, sounding serious for once.
I know I blushed. “Not at all. You feel great.” I told her. “Maybe a little too good.” I confessed.
She raised her eyebrows, and then grinned hugely. “Jeremy Daniels! Are you getting a hard-on for your aunt?” Her mouth was inches from my ear, and I could feel her breath. It wasn’t helping the situation.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean for it to happen,” I answered lamely.
She was still wearing that silly grin. “Don’t be sorry. It’s a nice compliment. Makes me feel all gooey down there. Do you need to adjust yourself?”
I nodded, and sighed in relief when she lifted her hips off of me. I straightened myself out, pointing it straight upward, toward my belly. Aunt Marie lowered herself, then wiggled her butt against me, a lot more than was necessary, so that my shaft was resting in her butt cleavage.
The whole boob thing was no longer my main concern. The road was still rough, and I held her by the hips, so she wouldn’t bounce away on the deeper ruts. Dad’s slowing down made it manageable. Our playfulness had fallen by the wayside, and we sat quietly for a while. Each bump would lift her up, and my arms would pull her back down, rubbing against my raging hard-on. I realized I was no longer pulling her straight down, but I’d ease her forward and slide her back, each time we lost contact.
Aunt Marie had one hand on the door handle, and the other pressed against her chest, to keep her overactive tits moderately under control. I could tell I wasn’t the only one getting worked up. She was actively playing along, rolling her hips, wedging me deeper in her crack.
I was going nuts.
Aunt Marie seemed to understand my predicament. I’ll say that for a woman who was nearly 40 years old, she was pretty darn flexible. She twisted around, and pressed her mouth to my ear again.
“We’re being a little naughty, don’t you think?”
“Too naughty?” I asked, hoping she’d say no.
“It’s a little much. You’re driving me crazy, baby.”
Driving her crazy? “Me too.” A sudden bump lifted her up, and I tried to be more careful about how I brought her back down. “God, you feel good.”
She gave me a little kiss. “And you feel big. Really big. When did my little nephew grow up so damn much?”
Yet another bump had me moan, as I felt the pressure of her ass slide along my shaft. That one was all her doing.
“Listen sugar. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us, and we need to get comfortable, or we’ll both be miserable. We can be grownup about this, right?”
“Sure,” I told her.
“Ok. Can you slide down just a bit?”
I struggled to move my hips forward an inch or two. “Like that?”
Aunt Marie nodded. “Trust me?”
“Of course. With my life. You know that.”
“I know. But I want you to relax for a second and don’t make a scene. Ok?”
I didn’t know where she was going with this, but I nodded.
My aunt reached down between us, and I felt her hand slide into the leg of my shorts, searching out and finding my stiffness. She tugged it forward gently, then I felt the material of my shorts move aside, and our connection was skin on skin. She wrapped her warm fingers around my shaft, and held me in place while she sat down in my lap, my aching cock between her legs, pressing back against her soft crotch.
She ground her hips in a bit, her hand pressing my hardness against her crotch. Then she closed her legs, and I peeked around her to see the head of my cock, playing peek-a-boo, between her soft pale thighs.
She leaned back against me, then deliberately wrapped my arms around her body, one around her waist, the other just below her tits. She leaned her head against mine. “As wild as the other was, it wasn’t at all comfortable. I couldn’t spend 2 hours like that. Isn’t this a little more comfy?”
I was trembling. Comfy was NOT the right word for what I was feeling. “Better.” I admitted.
I wondered if this wild side of her had anything to do with all the booze she’d consumed. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. I turned my hand upward and gently cupped her tit.
She sighed. “We can’t get too carried away now, Ok?”
“What’s too carried away?” I asked nervously. I wondered if she referred to where I’d put my hand.