AUNTY JEAN’S TIGHTS II

I hadn’t noticed the small clumps of mud falling off me as I made my way home from football practice. I still had my kit on, I didn’t think it was important to change, it was only a 10 minute walk anyway.

I’d barely walked through the back door before Mum barked sternly at me “Look at the state of you, have been rolling in mud? Get those boots off”. Mum and Aunty Jean were sitting at the kitchen table, both looking at me as I self-consciously kicked my boots off, causing more clumps of mud to spread over the floor. “How am I supposed to get those clothes clean” Mum barked again. Aunty Jean’s kind smile softened the mild bollocking I was getting from Mum. “Go on Jack, get your kit off, give us both a thrill, what do you think Liz?” said Aunty Jean as she looked at mum with a wide grin. I stood still, awkwardly uncomfortable as Mum slowly looked me up down. “I haven’t got time for that nonsense any more” Mum finally cackled as she rose, picked up a pile of bedclothes and made her way out of the kitchen.

I shuffled to the table and took a seat opposite Aunty Jean. She was looking past me, her eyes following Mum out of the room and up the stairs. She then slowly stood, took a few steps towards me, and bent over slightly. I could smell just a hint of her perfume. Her left hand touched then slowly slid up and down the front of my shorts as my cock stiffened instantly. Bending even closer she placed her mouth next to my ear and whispered softly “If you were my son…….I’d be draining your balls every day”. I gasped as she firmly squeezed the outline of my cock through my shorts. I gulped loudly and stared as she walked towards the kitchen counter, turned to face me and with both hands gathered up the hem of her skirt, pulling it upwards until it was nearly bunched around her waist. “Do you like my tights”, my jaw dropped as I looked at the thick centre seam of nylon running vertically over the front of her pale pink panties. “The shade is called Mink…..I bought them yesterday”. My cock hardened even more as she delicately slid out of her wooden heeled mules, rose up onto her toes and turned slightly back and forth. “I like the way they make my legs and feet look” she added. I gulped again as I looked at the curve of her bum just visible under the bunched up skirt, and slowly my eyes tracked down her nyloned thighs, calves and then…….her small high arched feet, the soft nylon clinging to her soles and ankles as she turned back and forth on her toes. I gasped audibly as my eyes fell on the small darker nylon band of her perfect petite nylon toes. I couldn’t speak, could barely think…….all I wanted was to lie on the floor and let her smother my face with her feet as I inhaled deeply from them. “Can you call over at the weekend and help me in the garden” I think she said. “If you can, I can let you have these tights…..to keep…………..your Mum said she’s always finding her tights covered in mess”. My face burned crimson at my now known secret, but I still stared at her feet as my cock throbbed, straining painfully at my shorts.

Mum’s heavy descending footsteps on the stairs sent a shiver of panic through me, but Aunty Jean slowly smoothed her skirt back down, slipped her feet elegantly back into her mules, picked up her teacup from the table, and with expert timing had just finished rinsing it under the tap as Mum walked back in the kitchen. My face still burned as I shuffled my chair further under the table, hoping the tablecloth would hide my tented shorts. “I’d better be off Liz” Jean said to Mum, “Jack said he might cut the grass for me on Saturday” adding just the hint of a wink in my direction. Mum stood uncomfortably close to me as she replied “He’ll be there,……. if he knows what’s good for him” as she nudged me to reply. They both smiled and said bye for now and Jean was gone. “Come on then, get that kit off so I can get it in the washing machine”, Mum said. My cock was still rock hard and very uncomfortable, I needed more time for it to subside before I could safely move, “can I have a cup of tea first please Mum” was the best I could come up with as she muttered “suppose so”, picked up the teapot and walked towards the kettle.