Visiting ‘tant Shirl

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“Timmy! Come in, come in. What a lovely surprise! How wonderful to see you again.” Gushing with enthusiasm Mrs. Griggs led me to her front room, a room she reserved exclusively for her extra special visitors, and then she bustled off to brew tea in the kitchen, leaving me on my own to explore. This was the one room in her house that I had hardly ever been in before, never before had I been accepted as a distinguished guest. I had known Mrs. Griggs all my life but the year before I went to Uni. her husband, Steven, had died suddenly and unexpectedly and she had simply fallen apart, gone utterly to pieces. Mum, a very old friend indeed, went round when she could to try and keep the place neat but she had bribed me into doing the shopping: it wasn’t hard she simply allowed me use Dad’s big car instead of lending me her old banger. Now I was all done at Uni. and Mrs. Griggs had long since pulled herself back together but I was home, I was struggling to find a job, I was under Mum’s feet and she had suggested that Mrs. Griggs might still appreciate a hand with some of the bigger jobs around the house.

“Now Timmy… I can’t really call you Timmy anymore can I? You’re all grown up now. Quite the handsome young man too, so slim and so obviously athletic. Are you still my little tennis ace? But that’s not good is it? Me saying that like that! You’re not anyone’s little anything any more, so I suppose it must be Tim or Timothy now?” When I’d been doing her shopping Mrs. Griggs had been merely existing rather than living, a damp dishrag that simply lay there on an old sofa in her back room, dressed in worn, creased, non too-clean, sad, drab clothes and, on those rare occasions that she could not possibly avoid responding at all, she’d answered with monosyllabic grunts. Now, once again, she was smartly dressed, neat as a new pin and she had a spring in her step. In fact she positively bustled, just as she had when her husband had been alive: when I was tiny she had actually scared me with the way she got on with everything all at once and still found the time to not only notice everything but comment upon it forthrightly, especially when I was up to something I ought not to have been up to. And she had also resumed her peculiar and disconcerting habit of constantly interrupting herself to half answer her own semi-rhetorical questions.

“Tim,” I mumbled, looking down at the carpet, practically whispering; Mrs. Griggs had not merely recovered but was, once more, every bit as overbearing as she had been when I was tiny.

“And, I can’t be Mrs. Griggs any more. And I’m most certainly not your ‘tant Shirl, so I’ll just have to be plain old Shirley. Anyway, what brings you here? You must be all done at College by now. I’ve no cake, you really did catch me by surprise, your Mum didn’t even ring to warn me you were coming over. And I’m sure you’ve no time to spare for old ladies not even elderly aunties, well ex-aunties, so what brings you here?”

“Mum thought that you might appreciate a hand with some stuff round the house. Really I’m in her way the whole time so she sent me over to irritate you for a change.” That at least elicited a smile from ‘tant Shirl, or rather from Shirley; calling her that was going to take some getting used to.

“No Tim my helpless days are long gone,” she chided, “I’m all sorted now. Pretty much my old self really. Though I do still miss Steve.” She paused to reflect but whether she was remembering Steve or deciding what to say next was quite impossible to tell. “But thank you anyway. Thank you, both of you. It was a really sweet thought and I know you’d have wriggled out of it somehow if you really hadn’t wanted to come. And now you’re here there’s lots of tea in the pot and my biscuits might not be cake but they are at least chocolate ones so you can tell me what you’ve been up to whilst you clear those too tempting biscuits out of my way,” she patted her own rounded tummy, “and I’ll keep you out of your Mum’s way for a while.”

Over the course of the next hour or so Shirley extracted a less than potted history of my adventures at Uni.. I’d done OK academically, gained a good degree, which pleased her but didn’t seem to surprise her in the slightest. I, however, surprised myself by describing my succession of girl friends, a parade which had ended abruptly about six months before I graduated: Shirley really was a skilled interrogator she drew all kinds of information from me that I did not intend to share and then used that to pry out more. I told her about the food, mostly not very good, the bars, mostly not that cheap and the accommodation, either expensive or unsanitary. I did manage to miss out the sex and the clubs. So she didn’t winkle everything from me, with grown-ups there are some lines you simply don’t want to cross.

It was as we were starting the ritual of saying goodbye, Shirley pressing me to come again soon and next time she’d be sure to have baked a cake; me promising to do so, remembering how ümraniye escort special her cakes had always been and telling her this; both of us knowing that this was polite make-believe that was not really going to happen: I’d done my duty, she had been sociable and gracious with it but that, well that would be that. Then Shirley gave me a thoughtful sideways appraisal, like a butcher sizing up a side of beef; intense enough to made me shudder a little. She began to say something but then choked herself off, uncertain of her words, which by itself would have been unusual, almost unsettling, but immediately after that lingering look it was positively unnerving. “Tim. There is maybe one little thing you might be willing to help me with, I’d decided it was too much to ask but I’ve had a sudden change of heart,” I realised she was not looking at me but behind me.

“Of course Mrs. Griggs, I mean Shirley, Mum sent me over to help and once I get back home it would be really nice to be able to tell her that I’d actually made myself useful. I’ve not been of much use to anyone of late, it would be good to feel like I’d actually done something for a change.” I was genuinely enthusiastic, it really would feel good to be of some help to someone.

“Yes,” she hesitated, “and, after all your Mum did send you,” I was not sure if she was talking to me or herself, “but even so it’s a big favour.” She looked me straight in the eye, “it’s an upstairs job: in my bedroom.”

I groaned to myself. Mrs. Griggs’ bed had been her mother’s, even possibly her grandmother’s. It was ancient solid dark oak, kept polished to a mirror sheen – even when she had been at her most despondent Mrs. Griggs had kept that bed frame perfectly buffed – but more to the point it weighed a ton and then some. She wanted the bed moving so she could dust under it properly, or some such. And yes that was a big ask, asking me to shift that dead weight on my own, I could see why she was holding back, I could imagine that afterwards I might be holding my own back.

I followed Shirley up the stairs into her big gloomy bedroom. It was the furniture that made the room so oppressive, that and the wood panelling around the walls, panels that rose to waist height. Everything was constructed exclusively from dark hard woods and the furniture was totally solid, intricately carved, with big brass handles. Two vast wardrobes, big enough to make hidden lands concealed in their backs perfectly imaginable. A dressing table with a long stout padded stool that you could easily seat three people along. A narrow cushioned chair with low arms and an ornate back, that was not part of the original set but nevertheless matched it perfectly. I could remember Mr. Griggs making that chair in his garage – come shed – come workshop, and it had taken him a whole year, which as a child seemed to me like forever. In an alcove stood a tallboy that was not only lockable but had always been kept locked when ever I had surreptitiously tried the drawers when we had visited. Then there was the bed, vast, oaken, ornate and preposterously heavy. “Now Shirley what do you want me to do for you?” I said, definitely staring, probably glaring, at her monstrous bed.

I felt very uncomfortable, Mrs. Griggs – for I still thought of her as Mrs. Griggs even if I was mostly remembering to call her Shirley – was once again eyeing me thoughtfully, obviously picking her words with care. Maybe she didn’t want the bed moved after all, but then what else? Surely not the wardrobes! I’d have to get Dad, or more likely a mate, to help with those, they were simply too heavy.

“What I want Tim…” She started her sentence resolutely enough but nerves got the better of her and she faltered. She cleared her throat noisily and then tried again, this time blurting out “Tim, what I really want is for you to rip away my clothes, throw me down onto that bed, kiss me all over and then fuck my brains out. Four years, it’s been since Steve died, that’s too long for any woman, I’m as randy as Hell and it’s been a few months for you too. I know for you I’m old, but your are so handsome and so like… and my body’s still good and it’s what I need.” Actually, she didn’t say ‘it’s’, she made a noise that might have been it’s, might have been Ste…, might have been you’re and was probably slithered mid word anyhow but beet red as I was I wasn’t really absorbing such details.

I was stupefied. Having sex with either ‘tant Shirl or Mrs. Griggs had never ever entered my head, it was not a consideration, I had no response, it was such an enormity that I was not only rooted to the spot but utterly tongue-tied with it. My mind was reeling, completely overwhelmed by the very concept, it would be like… It would be like… but there my head got stuck, no obvious comparison sprang to mind. It would be; well like fucking my mother or something. But there again Shirley, for somehow in my thoughts she had suddenly metamorphosed into Shirley, well pendik escort Shirley wasn’t my mother, not at all like my mother and; well, when I though about it she wasn’t all that bad at all. Well not considering: her tits were wonderful, far larger than any I had ever hoped to bare before and looked soft as pillows. She was a bit short and dumpy but not fat, her tummy was round but didn’t stick out, her face was a bit lined but not really wrinkly, her eyes shone like diamonds and she was radiating enthusiasm; though in a funny rather stern and severe kind of way. Somehow she suddenly became sexy, very sexy indeed. For me our mismatched ages began to make the prospect of screwing her exotic and, let’s face it, the line between exotic and erotic is a very thin one and anyway forbidden fruit does always taste the sweetest, and whilst bedding Shirley, a woman who was at least twice my own age, might just about be considered to be within the bounds of the acceptable, fucking ‘tant Shirl was most emphatically overstepping the line, wherever you choose to draw it.

Unlike me, frozen on the spot, once ‘tant Shirl began something she got on with it and, correctly interpreting my hesitation as assent, she set too with vim and vigour. “Don’t worry Tim, I’m sure you’ll manage fine with just a little encouragement,” as she was saying this she dropped to her knees before me and without any further ado, in one swift blur of movement, she un-hooked and unzipped my trousers, tugged both them and my underpants down below my knees and took my already thickening cock in her mouth. These were all completed before I had any time to react at all, I simply could not believe this was actually happening to me let alone respond.

I tell a lie, I was palpably capable of one response, suddenly my cock was hard as iron and throbbing with it. ‘tant Shirl had rolled my foreskin down the shaft with one hand and was deftly working on my exposed and already swollen dark purple helmet with her lips and tongue. I closed my eyes and began to sway unsteadily, to say that she was skilled at this did not do her justice, she was a bloody expert and was rapidly turning my knees to jelly. To keep my balance I was forced to place my hands on her shoulders. Any thoughts of stopping her had been driven from my head, any reservations had evaporated, cock sucking had never been like this before, my balls felt tight and heavy, the root of my dense and solid pole was tense and taunt: if she kept things up for much longer I was going to come in her mouth. Finally I managed to blurt out, “Stop. Stop or I’ll come. I’ll come in your mouth!”

She drew back and looked up at me with a wolfish grin plastered all over her face. “That I don’t normally care about in the least. But no, today you’re right, that’s not at all what I had in mind for the both of us. Now strip me, stuff that throbbing shaft of yours inside of me and then bounce up and down on me and ream me out with that fat purple truncheon.” She lifted my cock lovingly with one hand and used the nails of the other to tickle its root and my balls, causing me to rise up on tips of my toes as she sent a thrilling little shiver of pure lust down my spine. “This mighty organ that’s sticking out from between your legs. Yes, this one Timmy. This swollen monstrosity of yours that’s twitching all by its itty-bitty self at the moment. I want to feel it prise me apart and then stretch me wide.”

Shirley stood, turned with her back to me and lifted her hands above her head, a clear indication that she was now expecting me to undress her. Just in case I had not got the message she first wiggled her hips and plump bottom seductively and then bent forwards just a little, a clear invitation for me to approach her from behind. My turn to unhook and unzip her, though not quite so simple for I had to lift her dress over her head and I was not half so slick nor a quarter as practiced as she had proven to be. Still as I lifted her dress up and away I took the opportunity to run my hands over her luscious breasts, swivel her around and then kiss her hard upon the mouth. Swift as a striking serpent she flicked her tongue between my lips, pressed home the bulk, still tasting of chocolate and sugary biscuit, and set to work, hungrily attempting to devour me. That kiss lasted and lasted, mouths vacuumed together masking a veritable battle of hot wet pushing, probing and prodding. Whilst we kissed there was a frenetic fumbling going on as we fought to undress one another. I was easy prey, by then I only really had my shirt left on and Shirley soon not only had that off of my back but was raking my chest with her nails, making me squirm and wriggle with lust and causing my cock to bob and throb even more determinedly.

She had to ease off a little before I could concentrate enough to fumble her bra away. Her bare breasts felt every bit as fabulous in my hands as they had appeared earlier. Soft, silky smooth and oh so generously proportioned. Eventually bostancı escort I found her nipples, large and already stiff, so I squeezed firmly and started to roll them. Shirley’s efforts inside of my mouth were redoubled, she made a curious nasal sound, half grunt, half moan and she began to grind her hips into my now almost painfully stiff member. Instinctively I ground back. Now there was no doubt about it, we were going to fuck like bunnies and keep right at it until we had slaked our passions: I don’t suppose that ‘tant Shirl had ever had any reservations that she needed to overcome but now mine had all vanished too, my head was in a whirl of anticipation and it was definitely that twitching, throbbing cock of mine that was doing all of my thinking for me.

Eventually I was down to my socks and Shirley just encased in her tights. To remove those was beyond blind gropings and fumblings so I roughly shoved her over onto her back on the bed, grabbed her ankles and hoiked her legs high into the air; talk about someone looking like the cat that had got the cream. ‘tant Shirl looked me directly in the eye and licked her lips slowly, sensuously and so provocatively! Once I’d raised her bum clear of the bed I leant forwards grasped her tights and simply yanked, she wriggled, enthusiastically aiding and abetting me. Soon she was stark naked, on her back with her legs held akimbo. I hesitated, she was so hairy between her legs, far more hairy than any woman I’d ever seen before, a veritable forest of fuzz. But my surprise only delayed me by a heart beat because my cock was a bob-bob-bobbing – a real cock robin – along and I angled myself to thrust it deep inside of her moist quimm. But Shirley wagged a finger at me reprovingly, “Timmy stop! No, you mustn’t! Well not just yet awhile,” she giggled. “You naughty, naughty boy. You still have to kiss me all over! Then, and only then, are you permitted to fuck me,” and she extended a hand toward me all ready for me to kiss, as if she were some kind of medieval princess.

I kissed her knuckles, the back of her hand and then started to move on down to the wrist. “No you slothful wretch, suck my fingers, then lick my palm and if you’re a naughty boy, before you move on, you’ll look me right in the eye as you bite my mons of Venus. When I say all over, I mean precisely that; all over, every last little bit of me, taking great care not to miss any of me: you’re still not too old to be bent over my lap and given a good spanking m’lad?” I was utterly taken aback, ‘tant Shirl sounded so commanding, she actually sounded as if she might just try it, which was quite ridiculous because I was a big boy now and if anyone were going to spank anyone she would be over my knee and I would be the one walloping her bottom. And the though of her led face down over my lap, her round white bum protruding high into the air set my cock a throbbing and a bobbing again. She eyed my dancing member, “well, well. I expect such dirty thoughts would cost at least tuppence; eh Tim?” I blushed. “Oh Timmy!” she giggled. “Cat got your tongue, has it? Timmy?”

Skin is a far more erogenous organ that most people realise. It was when my tongue delved into the crook of an elbow and Shirley closed her eyes, began to sigh loudly and started to rock her hips that I comprehended just how much she was enjoying my attentions. Hell, she was already on fire and I still had almost the whole of her body to go, she was going to be delirious with lust by the time we were done. She would be gagging for it, begging for it; ‘tant Shirl would be pleading with her little Timmy to fuck her hard. An thought that reminded me of how painfully stiff my poor prick was right then.

“You missed a bit,” she complained. I’d reached her shoulder, she was pointing at herself whilst growling at me crossly.

“What, I missed this bit?” I enquired sucking down, and when she nodded in the affirmative I bit down hard making her squeal. “Hah,” I crowed, “you behave or you’ll pay for you cheek, you’re not always going to be the one calling the shots!” I was gaining in confidence and anyway from the mewls and whimpers she was making I knew that if I were to shove ‘tant Shirl down and plunge inside of her there’d no longer be any objections made, she’d not be able to stop herself.

“Bad boy Timmy! Taking advantage of an old weak woman and hurting her like that.” So affected was her protest that it almost did succeed in provoking me into spinning her around, pinning her down and humping her hard just to show her who was boss. But I kept my cool: if she were this hot now, how hot would she be after I’d nibbled her ears, how hot after I’d sucked upon those taunt red nipples that I could not help but keep eyeing up greedily, how hot after I’d lapped up and down her sweet sex, even if it was amazingly hairy. I was enjoying making her so impossibly randy, forcing this often scary woman to shed all vestiges of control and decency, hearing her laboured breathing as she tried to inhale and gasp all at once, making old ‘tant Shirl forget herself so she cussed and swore like a trooper. But I knew that I would have to take her soon, I was agonisingly stiff now and my self control could not and would not last much longer.

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