Brat
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I never meant for her to know that I saw her. I never really meant to watch, but when I came home early and heard the noises, I just had to check.
My Aunt Margaret, you see, was kind enough to take me into her home when her sister, my mother, got sick. I know now what a sacrifice that was for her. At fifteen, though, my only concern was the inconvenience it caused me. Moving halfway across the country, away from my friends, my school, and everything I had known all my life - that was the worst disaster I could imagine.
Of course, then, I thought my mother would be well in a few weeks, and I'd be able to go back home and live with her. It never occurred to my self-absorbed teenaged brain that my mother might be dying. All I could think about was how totally unfair the whole thing was to me.
Perhaps my mom had spoiled me a little bit. Okay, I was a total brat. I knew, by looking in the mirror, and by the way the boys chased after me that I was totally hot. Since I had that going for me, I never had to do anything for myself. If I had homework to do, I just got one of the nerds to do it. They were so eager to please me. If I needed something, all I had to do was drop a hint and whatever guy I was dating would buy it for me.
Give away this hot little booty? No way! I knew I was too good for any of those guys! I didn't know where, or when, but I knew that some rich, handsome guy would come along and sweep me off my feet. Then, and only then, would I screw like a porn star. Don't get me wrong, I'd given my share of handjobs and even let one boy see my cute little boobs. I decided I was even willing to go as far as giving head to get what I wanted, but no way was anyone getting into my skimpy little thong without paying the price of admission - a big fat diamond!
The guy who got me would have to earn it with a ring, but when he did, I just knew he'd be grateful as hell to get into my sexy little pant. Somehow, when that happened, it was going to be the best sex he ever had, and he'd never, ever want to fuck anyone else.
Okay, so I was a fucked up fifteen-year-old, spoiled rotten brat with no real concept of how things really work. That all started to change when I moved in with my Aunt. Fortunately, I had been born with a good memory and a modicum of intelligence, even if I had never actually had to use it. That was a good thing, because Aunt Margaret had this weird fetish about checking my homework every night. It was like she had spies at the godawful school she sent me to! I tried lying about not having homework, but somehow, by the time I got home each day, she knew, in detail, what my assignments were.
To top it off, the bumpkins at that little one-horse school seemed to find my sense of fashion amusing. To them, cowboy boots and jeans were the height of country couture. Suddenly, I went from being the most popular girl in school to class clown.
Oh yeah, my aunt lives in the middle of nowhere outside even the podunk little town where that sorry excuse for a school was built. Was I bitter? Only every waking minute of every miserable day!
I was so wrapped up in my own troubles, that instead of being sad when my mother died, I got even angrier and bitchier. The only blessing out of the whole thing was that word got around about my mother's death, and the kids at school stopped teasing me for a while.
Aunt Margaret didn't let up on me, though. Oh no! It was almost like she blamed me for her sister's death. She never said so, but she did tell me, often and loudly, what an ass I was being about the whole thing. Looking back, I can see that she was right, but at the time, I felt like the most put upon girl in the universe.
So what changed my outlook? Did I suddenly have an epiphany and realize that it was my own behavior that was causing all my problems? Well, yes, but not in the way you would expect...
There was one girl at school - a Plain Jane type named Alice Monroe - who wanted to be my friend. God knows, I could have used a friend or two, but come on! Alice Monroe? Puh-leeze! She was such a total dork with all those freckles all over her face! Anyway, this one day, a day which had started off with yet another screaming fight with my aunt, Alice came to me trying to be all sympathetic about my mom dying and everything. I lost it. Right there in front of the lockers with half the damned school watching, I let her have it with both barrels, then reloaded and let go again, and again. By the time I ran out of ammo, the poor girl was a sobbing, sniveling wreck, and I was suspended from school for the rest of the week.
In my state of mind, as far as I was concerned, it was the best thing that could have happened. Since my aunt had confiscated my cell phone to keep me from running up a bill she couldn't afford to pay, I couldn't call her to pick me up, so I had to walk back to her house. Since I was in no hurry to tell her what happened, I took my time. At least, that was my plan. Problem is, out here in Nowheresville, everybody's got a goddamn dog. "So what?" you ask. So nobody - and I mean nobody - ties their damn dogs up, or keeps 'em behind a fence.
With all the world to use for a doggy toilet, why have 'em shit in your own yard, right? So who cares? I care, that's who. I wanted less to do with the stinky fuckin' dogs than I wanted to do with Alice fuckin' Monroe.
The damn dogs didn't give a shit. I was trying to take my time walking back to my aunt's to delay the scolding as long as possible, but every damn dog in town wanted to be petted, or wanted to lick my face. Short as I am, some of those brutes didn't even have to lift their front paws to slobber all over me, totally screwing up my makeup.
So much for quiet introspection. I knew from experience that pushing them away wouldn't do a damned bit of good, so I endured and walked faster. Finally, I reached the sanctuary of my aunt's white picket fence. With the gate closed behind me, I left the pack of wild slobber-monsters behind and steeled myself to face my aunt's rage.
Hoping she was busy with something else and wouldn't notice me, I let myself in as quietly as I could and went to my room to drop off my backpack.
That was when I heard it - a low, guttural moan. I had never heard anything like that in my life and I figured who- or whatever had made it must be in pretty dire straits. Now mind you, I was big into helping out people in distress, but I was curious. The moan sounded again as I stepped into the hall and I followed it down the hall toward my aunt's bedroom.
The third moan was more like a muted bellow, and I wondered if, somehow, one of the calves had gotten in the house and got into something it couldn't get out of in Aunt Margaret's room.
Wondering if it was even safe to be near a trapped or wounded animal, I slowly pushed the on the door, which wasn't fully closed.
Imagine my shock when I saw Aunt Margaret, wearing a black leather bustier, with her right arm buried almost to the elbow in the ass of ... Oh my God! Mrs. Monroe!
Okay, in my defense, the irony of it was just too much! I had just been suspended from school for verbally reaming Mrs. Monroe's daughter, and here was my aunt, physically doing the same thing to Alice's mother! I could not help myself.
I laughed. Yes, 'LOL' - I laughed out loud. If I hadn't had a good grip on the door handle, I would have been ROTFLMAO - (okay, 'Rolling on the floor, laughing my ass off' for the three of you out there who haven't texted enough to know what that means.)
I had to give my aunt cool points: instead of being all shocked and embarrassed, she just looked at me and said, in that 'do it or else' voice of hers, "It's about time! Get over here and strip, Heather."
Say what? I stopped laughing, but I couldn't believe what my ears were telling me. I stood in the doorway with my mouth open.
"Now!"
Whoa! I had never heard her use that tone of voice before. While I was marveling at the various nuances and inflections it carried, my body, almost without my knowing it, slowly sidled toward the bed.
Mrs. Monroe was facing me, head on the mattress, ass in the air, but she didn't even seem to see me. No wonder - Aunt Margaret's elbow had just popped through her sphincter, eliciting another bellow from the young mother.
Suddenly, I realized that she was not only totally engrossed in what my aunt was doing, but she was enjoying it! A river of fluid was pouring down the insides of both thighs and her eyes were rolled so far back in her head that all you could see was featureless white where you would expect a cornea and pupil. Even as I watched, she shuddered through a full-body orgasm, sending yet another stream of fluid down her thighs.
I had not noticed the riding crop in Aunt Margaret's left hand, but as I came within range, without diminishing her assault on Mrs. Monroe, she apprised me of its presence by slashing it across the back of my bare thigh.
"Ow!" I yelled, dancing from the pain.
Aunt Margaret was not to be distracted. "I said strip! If I have to tell you again, you will not be able to sit even when they let you back into the school!"
Oh, shit! That could not be good! She already knew about my suspension! I should have known!
While those thoughts were running through my head, I was tearing garments off. It wasn't until I got down to my lacy little bra and the butt-floss the lingerie designers laughingly call panties that I realized what I was doing.
I thought that surely that would be enough ... No, the murderous glare in my aunt's gaze told me I'd better not stop there.
Off came the bra and the thong, and before I knew what was happening, I was on my back with my head shoved between Mrs. Monroe's thighs, watching in awe as Aunt Margaret's arm pistoned in and out of her distended rectum. I didn't get to watch for long. With two quick taps of the crop, Aunt Margaret spread the older woman's thighs, planting her dripping pussy solidly in my face.
Okay, I'm not stupid. I knew why she did that, even though I was having difficulty believing any of this bizarre scene, but there was no way my pristine little tongue was going into the floodwaters from Mrs. Monroe's bikini-waxed pussy.
I clamped my mouth shut in defiance, only to open it wider than ever as my aunt's crop on the inside of my thigh deluged me with searing pain! Immediately, of course, about half of Mrs. M's protruding labia, including her distended clit, barged into my open maw. Spitting it out wasn't exactly an option - not when it had the weight of her lower torso on top of it, probably encouraged by Aunt Margaret's fist. I thought to use my hands to get her up enough to close my mouth again, but the crop foiled that plan.
I had almost decided on another strategy when my aunt growled, "If you bite, I'll shove this fist up your ass all the way to my shoulder! Now get that tongue moving!"
Damn! How does she do that? Is she a fuckin' mind-reader or something?
With no other viable options I did as she commanded, not at all sure that I would survive the experience. To my surprise, Mrs. M. didn't taste half bad. A little gamy, maybe, but god knows how long she and Aunt Margaret had been at it before I got there. My disgust didn't turn to nausea as I had expected. In fact, when Alice's mother started grinding her hips in response to my tonguing, I started getting a perverse little thrill from the power it gave me over her.
I found her hard little clit and started playing with it. Mrs. Monroe rewarded me by nearly drowning me in her juices! My God! Did I do that? Far from being disgusted by the fluids running down my face, I started producing a flow of my own. Granted, my aunt's fist, high up her colon, had something to do with it, but the idea that my pink little tongue had caused such a reaction just drove me wild!
Aunt Margaret had said 'no biting', but I knew that if it was my clit, I wouldn't have minded a little nip here and there, so I tried it. A very gentle little nibble, just letting her feel the edges of my sharp little teeth.
OMG! The woman went ballistic! She wailed like a cheerleader who just woke up to find a pimple on her nose, rammed her ass back against the fist inside her, then pounded her pubic bone on my nose three or four times before collapsing, limp as a dishrag, on top of me. It was a good thing I could breathe a little through my mouth, otherwise I would have suffocated!
Aunt Margaret took her time about extricating her fist from the poor woman, then took a leisurely stroll to the bathroom to wash before finally returning to roll the unconscious body off of me.
I lay there gasping for air, but my aunt was not going to give me any respite. Before I was even close to getting my breath back, much less my composure, I was blindfolded and trussed up like a Christmas turkey. My ass was high in the air and my wrists were bound to my ankles. I had to turn my face to the side to keep from being smothered by the bedspread on Aunt Margaret's bed.
The irony of finding myself in the same position that Mrs. M. had occupied only moments before was not lost on me, but somehow, I didn't feel like laughing. In fact, I wasn't quite sure what I felt like.
Scared? Shah! I had never been so frightened in my life! Humiliated - definitely. Angry, ashamed, all of these were part of the jumble of emotions swirling through me. Thing was, and this is what was so confusing, I was also hornier than I had ever been, even when I got a backstage pass to the Jonas Brothers. Confused? Oh, yeah! This was my bitch of an aunt who was doing this to me, with her sister not even cold in the grave yet!
Aunt Margaret didn't give me a lot of time for introspection.
"I have tried to do right by you, Heather, because you are my sister's only child. I have been as patient as anyone could be with a self-absorbed little brat, but this community is my home, and these people are my friends, and you, prima-donna that you think you are, are not going to fuck this up for me! Your mother is gone, and she is not coming back, and while I will miss her at least as much as you, we both need to move on. Talking to you has not helped, and neither has anything else, so now I'm going to take a more direct approach."
"Make the call," she told Mrs. Monroe.
I must have waited there, exposed and wondering what in hell was about to happen for a good fifteen minutes after Alice's mom called somebody on her cell, her voice so low I couldn't hear what was said. Finally, I heard footsteps and Aunt Margaret turned toward the bedroom door.
"In here, dear," she called.
I struggled to turn my head the other way so I could see who else was about to witness my humiliation. Bad idea. You probably already guessed who it was going to be, but I didn't have the luxury of time for logical thought. I had been too busy wondering what would happen to me and why I had to be in this position for it.
If I had felt humiliated before, imagine how I felt when Alice walked through the door. That's right, the Alice. The one I had been abusing before I got suspended. The one whose mother now sat demurely in a chair beside the bed on which she had climaxed all over my face, now fully clothed.
The look on Alice's face was priceless - or it would have been if I'd been in a position to appreciate it. Confusion, apprehension, and even embarrassment mingled in her expression as her face turned red.
"Y-you wanted to see me Mrs. Stanton?"
"Yes, Alice," Aunt Margaret answered warmly, putting her arm around the trembling girl. I noticed that the bustier had been replaced by a sundress. "I understand that you were trying to offer sympathy and friendship to my niece, and that she treated you rather badly. Is that correct?"
"Oh, I understand, Mrs. Stanton," Alice said, her face even redder. "After all, she just lost her mother..."
"That's true, Alice," the older woman smiled, "and it's very sweet of you to be so understanding, but I'm afraid that Heather needs a little help understanding that she can't use her own troubles as an excuse to treat others like dirt. Would you like to help me with that lesson, Alice?"
Geraldine
- 11.06.2020
- 21
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