The Lure of Lingerie!

What young male hasn't been fixated by an older woman? Dreamed of being seduced by her maturity? Dreamed of sexual fulfilment ... without inhibitions ... under her tutelage? Well, I'm proud to say I fall into this category ever since the days of my pubescent erections, when I would fantasise about Aunt Sarah, a mature, voluptuous and very sexy woman who epitomised the word eroticism.

Not a member of my family whatsoever - just a friend of my parents, a fact I never learned until I was in my late teens - Aunt Sarah is a modern woman and young at heart, a winning combination that enabled us to communicate easily.

I recall as a youngster that my visits to Aunt Sarah's home were always a pleasure. She would welcome me with a warm embrace and a kiss for the top of my head, and being tall for my age meant my face coming to rest within the softness of her inviting, perfumed bosom; sheer bliss. Then there was the visit that changed everything ... it was to be my sexual epiphany!

On that particular occasion I entered Aunt Sarah's house and called out as usual. Hearing no reply, I went in search of her and encountered Aunt Sarah coming down the stairs. But she wasn't dressed as I would normally expect to see her, in a dress or blouse and skirt for example. No, this time she was wearing something altogether different; a short, green silky garment, which I thought was called a petticoat. She appeared embarrassed to be seen in a state of undress but never tried to cover herself.

Upon receiving my normal embrace and kiss, my cock went from flaccid to rigid in approximately three seconds, pressing itself impatiently between Aunt Sarah's thighs. Thinking about the episode later, I realised that it was Aunt Sarah's semi-naked body and her silky slip that had given me such pleasure and inflicted me with an iron-like erection. The fact that it was pushing against her body was irrelevant to me, all I wanted was to revel in the excitement being generated by her ripe breasts which overhung the tactile silky petticoat.

Time passed and my visits to Aunt Sarah became less frequent. In fact she actively discouraged me from seeing her alone. Eventually I came to understand why our meetings were inappropriate, but still looked upon them as very special; but there was no forgetting the memory of her holding my face against her breasts, and the touch of that silky green petticoat. In fact, it has formed the basis of many masturbation sessions!

I was swallowed up by the education system and spent four years at university before I next set eyes on Aunt Sarah, which was at a family funeral. She still looked gorgeous, even though she'd put on extra weight, which to my lustful thinking made her even more desirable. She dazzled the event in a black silk dress, the soft fabric hugging every curve of her plump body and putting far too much strain on the seams. On her feet, black stiletto heels showed off her shapely legs and firm calves beneath fine black mesh. Eventually we got chatting, well out of earshot of my parents I might add - they never realised I'd paid her so many visits - and Aunt Sarah suggested I call on her sometime.

'It's been a long time since your last visit, Peter, and I appreciate you've grown up and been studying hard, but I have missed you. Why don't you come around sometime soon?' Her voice was barely above a whisper, the inference being she didn't want to be overheard. Well I was certainly up to it and told her so. I said it sounded like a great idea and asked when? 'Anytime, and,' she told me leaning closer, 'drop the aunty! My name is Sarah.'

On impulse I did the math concerning our age difference. Not that it mattered, but I quickly established there was a sixteen-year gap between us, making Sarah 37 years-old; it was impossible to believe. Those sexy come-hither eyes were still there, as well as her even more curvaceous body and both were beginning to disturb me, again.

Her proposal to drop the 'aunt' title was delivered with an intoxicating blast of perfume, which seemed to emanate from within the fabric of her dress, as it creased and plunged forward at the neckline, allowing me a view of her spectacular cleavage and black lace lingerie. The perfume was overpowering and a trifle incongruous considering the solemnness of the occasion, however, I did recognise the fragrance as the same one that had wafted from her that fateful day my erection had pressed between her thighs. Memories of that afternoon and her silky green lingerie were immediately revived, as my mind drifted back to that wonderful time.

That particular afternoon, Aunt Sarah's embrace seemed to last forever. She made no comment about my erection pressing between her legs, but I remember clearly how I felt at that moment, how I pursued those feelings by burying my face in the cleavage of her matronly breasts and probing the deep scented valley between them with my nose.

As I said, Aunt Sarah never demonstrated disapproval of my action. Quite the contrary, she actively encouraged my behaviour by bending her knees to accommodate my naughty exploration. And, as if the discernment of her naked flesh wasn't exciting enough, there was also the silky touch of the green lingerie and its coffee-coloured edging that was tickling my face; both adding hugely to my enjoyment. The experience left me feel strangely exhilarated and I learnt the meaning of the word - frustration!

When Aunt Sarah finally pushed me away, I saw her eyes drop to the bulge in my trousers. She muttered, 'tut-tut' but made no further comment about my impulsiveness and following that incident it was noticeable that all Sarah offered me was a peck on the cheek. But her eyes still clocked the front of my trousers, because there was usually something sticking out! I was returned to the present by Aunt Sarah asking.

'Peter, I intend leaving shortly, will you drive me home please?' Sarah's whispery voice held a meaningful edge. 'I can have a few more of these,' she said raising her glass, 'without the worry of being over the limit. Will you do that for me?'

'Yes, of course.' I replied eagerly. As I'd recently obtained my driving licence any chance to get behind the wheel of a car was OK with me, especially Aunt Sarah's BMW. She searched in her handbag for the key and gave it to me.

We arrived at Sarah's house without incident and I escorted her indoors. Closing the front-door I sensed a kind self-assurance taking over, a daring similar to the time I buried my face in her cleavage all those years ago; but this time I knew the reason for my effrontery.

'Peter, would you like to stay for a while?' Sarah asked.

'I would like that very much, Aunty Sarah.' I replied tongue in cheek. My answer brought a smile to her face and a disapproving wag of her finger in my direction.

'Good, then I'll go and change from this outfit while you pour me another large gin and tonic, please. There's beer in the fridge if you want. I won't be long.' Sarah left the room and I attended to the drinks. A couple of minutes later I heard her voice calling out from the top of the stairs.

'Peter, can you come up here please. I need some assistance. The zip of my dress is jammed and I can't reach behind to sort out the problem.' I bounded up the stairs to assist; my assertiveness in full flow. I knew which bedroom was hers and knocked on the door.

'Don't be silly, Peter, come in.' I pushed the door open and entered the holy of holies, Sarah's boudoir. She was standing before a full length mirror, her fingers fiddling with the zip. I stood just inside the door, hesitant but eager to help; Sarah detected my reticence. 'Come on young man, this is not the time to be shy. See if you can free this thing.' I spotted the problem immediately.

'There's a piece of thread caught in the teeth.' I told her lowering the fastener until I could extract the thread and instinctively raising it again.

'What are you doing?' She said laughing at my reflection in the mirror. 'I want to take it off. Come on, Peter, you must have done this for a girlfriend. Pull it all the way down.' Sarah ordered.

I held the top of the zip, my heart racing in anticipation of what I would see beneath the black silk dress. I ran it a couple of inches and stopped, my heart pounding, my fingers visibly trembling as they touched Sarah's skin. I hesitated before lowering the zip further. It was a truly sensual experience, Sarah's skin felt smooth under my fingertips and when the two halves of the dress parted bringing the black satin straps of her lingerie into view, I paused in fascination.

'Is there something wrong, Peter?' Sarah asked. 'Won't it go all the way down?'

I tried to answer but my mouth was dry. I swallowed hard and lowered the zip to its full extent discerning the glorious black lacy lingerie through the eyes of a voyeur. Sarah smiled at my reflection while holding her dress to prevent it slipping down.

'Do you like my lingerie, Peter?' Her voice was seductive.

'Sarah, I don't know what to say.' Sarah turned to face me.

'Peter, don't be a silly boy. Don't be shy about seeing my underwear. It's very flattering to have a handsome young man cherish the sight of your naked back and choice of lingerie that much is obvious.' Sarah nodded at the front of my trousers ... Christ, was my erection that conspicuous? But she hadn't finished with me. 'After all, it's not the first time you've seen me half naked. Remember the afternoon you caught me in my slip? And if I'm not mistaken, I had the same effect on you then.'

I was taken aback by her words. Not only did Sarah recall that incident, but was openly encouraging me to talk about it! I loved the way this conversation was heading, but was it solely her desire to be complimented, or was there a sexual connotation I should be aware of and if necessary act upon? And what about her allusion to my erection, clearly implying she was aware of my aroused state. I tried to put everything in perspective before I opened my mouth. But before I had chance to collect my thoughts Sarah had slipped the dress down her arms and was stepping from it.

'There, you can appreciate everything to your heart's content now.' Sarah's voice contained the assuredness of a woman with a mission. She bent and picked up the dress, put it on a hangar, placed it in her wardrobe and then turned to face me once more. 'Now, Peter, how do you like seeing me exposed?' I became a jabbering imbecile, my confidence blasted away. I tried to form a sentence.

'I, umm, I mean, you, you look stunning, Sarah.' I mumbled.

'That's more like it, thank you. Stunning you say, better not let your parents hear you say that word in connection with seeing me in my underwear, eh?' She laughed and put her forefinger to her lips as if indicating a secret. I tried not to look chastened. 'I am so pleased to hear you say that, Peter, especially as you can back it up with proof.' Sarah inclined her head and my cock twitched under her watchful gaze.

Sarah turned back towards the mirror and, running her hands down her body, traced its curves. 'How about my figure now I've added weight? Does it still appeal to you, Peter?' I nodded. 'This basque not only helps shape my overripe body but it looks sexy too, wouldn't you agree?' Again I nodded. 'And, I can fix my stockings to it.' Sarah pulled at the shiny straps that attached her stockings to the basque then slipped her fingers beneath the lacy tops of both stockings. It was a provocative move on her part, one which left me in no doubt as to Sarah's motive for teasing me. Or so my ego led me to believe. Then she hiccupped.

'Oh dear, I've had too much to drink.' She giggled.

My cock throbbed impatiently as it attempted to assess Sarah's shameless behaviour. Should I touch her in the hope it was what she wanted me to do? Or, should I await a definite invitation to caress her? Sarah answered both these questions by squeezing her breasts and asking.

'What do you think of these? What does Peter think of his Aunt Sarah's tits?'

'I think they're beautiful.' I replied softly and without thinking.

'Would you like to see how large they are?'

'Yes please very much.' I answered gleefully.

'Would you like to squeeze them yourself?'

'Oh Christ, Sarah, you know I want to see them! I'd love to touch them. But, I beg you, unless you really mean to show me how beautiful they are, don't tease.'

Sarah considered my words then made more suggestive movements with her hands, as if she were about to carry out her promise. Then, when on the brink of scooping out one breast she stopped, and dropped her hands. She gave a wicked laugh and said. 'Sorry, Peter, not today I am only teasing. It's the drink I've consumed bringing out the worst in me. But one day, maybe soon I'll let you have your wicked way. That's a promise.'

It was a slap in the face and my disappointment must have shown. But Sarah just laughed it away. Instead she put on a pink satin robe and said. 'Come on, let's get that drink. I want you to tell me all about your girlfriends.' So we headed downstairs, my erection showing no sign of flagging.

We sat close on a sofa, legs touching and my erection hard and throbbing. After a few swigs from a bottle of beer I began to tell Sarah about Jane, the girl I was currently seeing. What did she look like, Sarah wanted to know? Did she have a nice figure and did I think she was the kind of girl I'd marry? I was in the process of answering her questions when she dropped the bombshell.

'Does Jane get you hard like I do? Does she let you touch her up? What do her breasts look like naked? What do they feel like?' The speed of her questions prevented me from answering immediately and she mistook my hesitancy for embarrassment. 'Come on, Peter, don't be shy, tell me everything.'

'Well, yes she does let me feel her.' I offered timidly.

'Do you finger her pussy? Oops ...' Sarah was apologetic. 'I really have had too much to drink, but do you mind me using that term?

'Not in the least.'

'What if I use stronger language, a little more risqué, if you know what I mean? In all honesty, when I've had too much to drink I love talking dirty; I'm really a dirty bitch at heart, a dirty bitch who takes great pleasure in using naughty words when talking about sexual matters. Plus, I like to see you embarrassed, Peter, it makes you vulnerable. But feel free to talk as dirty as you want with me.'

'No, that's fine.' I replied timidly but curious to learn what words Sarah termed as - more risqué.

'So then, tell me about her breasts - I hope she isn't a skinny girl with tits like fried eggs.' Sarah squeezed her breasts to emphasise her own proportions. 'I hope she's got what I have.'

'No not skinny in the least, quite the opposite. I can best describe Jane as being well-built - not fat - and her breasts are a lovely, firm handful, though I've never seen them completely naked.' Wow, did I really say that about my girlfriend's tits? I continued in the same vein. 'And, she lets me finger her pussy.'

I was enjoying Sarah's interrogation of my sex-life, it was a big turn on and I was prepared to release any salacious details regarding Jane and our sexual habits to further the conversation. Sarah licked her lips and pressed me for more details.

'Tell me about her nipples, are they big or small? Do they sit in the centre of large, brown surrounds? What happens when you play with them and suck on them, do they get hard and swell up?' Fuck this was beautiful talk. But was it really alcohol induced? I had my doubts. I was prepared to believe that Sarah really was the dirty bitch she labelled herself to be.

'Yes,' I answered willingly, 'to me they seem a nice size, though my personal experience of nipples is limited. They are a pinkish colour but the surrounds are a much darker pink, and they swell and get hard when I play with them.'

I noticed how agitated Sarah was becoming as she waited for my replies, shuffling her backside and crossing her legs, then gripping my thigh when I spoke. But there was an added bonus to all of Sarah's feverish grilling; her pink robe had come loose, displaying not only her stocking tops and suspenders, but also her basque and breasts. I couldn't take my eyes from the expanse of flesh that the lacy cups of her basque were supporting. It was then I realized how in thrall to her body I had become, and how much I loved the erotic lingerie that adorned it.

'Does Jane play with your cock, Peter?' Sarah continued wrapping her fingers around the bulge in my trousers and squeezing ... how I defied the moment of ejaculation I'll never know! 'Does she stroke your cock and bring you off? Does she make you cum, Peter? Does she give you a wank until you cum?'

I nodded and to my disappointment, Sarah released my erection.

'So, Miss Jane gives you a wank, does she? And what about a bit of fellatio, a bit of cock sucking, does she suck your cock as well, Peter? Does she take your knob in her mouth and suck on it?'

This time I shook my head.

'Oh dear, poor Peter, so you've never had your cock sucked? Then what happens when you climax? Where do you squirt your cum? Over her tits or does she let you cum over her face?

Sarah crossed her legs drawing my gaze to the suspender straps biting in to the flesh of her thighs, bunched and bulging around the lacy tops of her stockings. I longed to touch them, but didn't have the courage.

I gave another shake of my head. 'Neither place, sadly. It's usual for me to cum in her hand.'

'Now, my sweet boy, the big question, have you two ever fucked? Have you had this cock up her cunt?' I explained that we had not. Christ, I loved this woman's use of obscenities and her mature, dominating charisma. It lent her sex appeal on an unprecedented level.

'Perhaps I can help you there. I still have several boxes of condoms that Arthur never got around to using and if they haven't passed their sell by date, you can have them. And, if you wish, you can use my guest bedroom to fuck your darling Jane! How does that sound?'

'Are you being serious? You'd let us do it here in your house?' I was flabbergasted at her suggestion.

'If you both want to, that is. Why not bring Jane around on Saturday; I'd like to meet this young lady who's the object of your carnal desire. Who knows, as well as providing the room to fuck in, I may be able to offer some guidance for the big occasion. Do you think she would be amenable to the kind of chat we're having now?' Sarah wanted to know. 'Do you think she might have a problem accepting this thing I'm holding? Or will she get wet enough for you to slip it in easily?' Fuck, this woman was inspirational

'I really couldn't say. In private we talk about sex and Jane tells me how frustrated she gets when my fingers aren't sufficient to satisfy her, but whether she'd open up to a stranger, I can't say.' I replied while fantasising about the three of us in conversation like this; I made a mental note to raise this issue with Jane.

'Well, if I can get her alone I will broach the subject.' Sarah said. 'Meanwhile, I can't help noticing your eyes haven't left my stocking tops and tits since we sat down, and judging by how hard this cock is, I'd say you're enjoying the view.'

'Well, you look so fabulous, Sarah. Your body in that erotic lingerie is so enticing and so fucking sexy!'

'Ooh, you do say the right things, Peter.' She said opening wide the pink robe. 'Here's a reward for those nice words. Enjoy me in all my glory.' Sarah took my hand and laid it on her thigh. 'Stroke my nylon stockings, feel how nice the mesh is.' She moved my fingertips over the lacy pattern of nylon. 'But it feels even nicer if you slip them under the mesh and rub your fingers together.' I was practically salivating but did as she suggested. 'I bet Jane doesn't wear stockings and suspenders, does she?'