Our Secret Sin Ch. 02

The 7:30 AM alarm woke me on Sunday, February 16th. It was time to get ready for church. I hopped out of bed, already nude and ready for a shower. A few flakes of dried semen fell from my skin as I walked into the bathroom. How they got there was quite the story.

A few nights ago, it was Aunt Naomi’s first Valentine’s Day as a widow, so she proposed that I be her date. That meant a candlelit dinner with wine, cuddling on the couch to watch “Milo & Otis”, and then up to my room for sex. And, no, you didn’t misread that last part.

A few weeks ago, after her husband had passed away, Aunt Naomi and I started having sex. Before that, I saw her as an overly oppressive, Bible-toting disciplinarian that never allowed me to have any fun. Now, she had loosened up in more ways than one.

Her marriage to Uncle Randolph had begun when she was 28 and he was 58. They had almost reached 22 years of marriage before he had died. I had no idea how their sex life went before he became bedridden, but it was obvious that it had been a while since she’d gotten laid. I guess that fact had not been made clear until she came into my room Saturday night, removed both of our clothes, and took me again. As always, after we were done, she always went back to her room.

Once I had gotten dressed, I grabbed my bible and headed downstairs. My thin, blonde aunt was already in her Sunday best as she waited downstairs. She gave me a simple ‘good morning’ before we got into her van and headed for church.

As always, we never conversed on the way to church; it had been this way even before we started having sex. As the hymns came pouring out of the radio, I tried my best to get my mind to focus on holy things and not all of the sex I had engaged in last night with my dead mother’s sister. Both of my parents had died eight years ago when I was 10, which is why I lived with Aunt Naomi.

It then occurred to me: what would my late mother think of our relationship? Before she had died, she had been more of a sympathetic and easygoing Christian. Aunt Naomi was the other kind, the kind of Christian that would criticize anyone who showed up to church in a T-shirt. After the first few trysts, I thought her guilty conscience would force her to stop, but she didn’t seem bothered about being in bed with her nephew. I guess that I could have said something to stop our affair, but I couldn’t dredge up any genuine desire to do so.

In fact, I felt a pang of longing as Aunt Naomi ventured off to her adult bible study class, while I headed for the high school bible study class. My heart — and maybe my penis — leapt with joy when I found her in the main sanctuary for the late-morning service. Her face, as always, was unreadable as I sat next to her in the pew.

After we sang hymns with the rest of the congregation, the church collected the offering and then the head pastor came up to deliver the sermon. It always amused me to see how anxious the crowd got when he ascended the pulpit. Personally, I had nothing against Pastor McAvoy, but it was sad to hear the audience fall over laughing whenever he made a C-grade joke.

At long last, we said our closing prayer and listened to the weekly announcements before we were dismissed. As we filed out of the auditorium and into the lobby, it seemed that a group of church ladies seemed to automatically materialize around Aunt Naomi. Even though it had been almost 4 weeks since Uncle Randolph had died, they were still very much concerned about her. Pastor McAvoy even came over to give his repeated offers for any assistance whatsoever. Aunt Naomi was in high spirits by the time we left church.

On the ride home, she was giddy as she told me that the head pastor had issued a standing invitation to his house for dinner. I said nothing as she drove through the wintry streets. About five minutes from our home, I had decided to break the one-sided silence.

“I think it would be nice to have dinner at Pastor John’s sometime,” I said.

“Yes,” Aunt Naomi replied. “By the way, I don’t know what you’re wanting for dinner tonight. Did you have anything in mind?”

I gave my aunt a strange look; usually, she never asked me what I wanted to eat; she told me that I could always eat whatever she made, make something myself, or starve. I began to rack my brain for whatever I wanted to have for dinner. Even though it was February, it felt like Christmas had come early.

“How about chicken?” I suggested.

“Chicken sounds good,” she replied as she pulled into the driveway and parked in the garage.

We got into the house and removed our coats. After adjusting the thermostat, Aunt Naomi looked inside of the fridge. A few minutes later she gave a deep sigh and slammed the fridge shut.

“What’s wrong?” I said, worried that I had done something wrong.

“I forgot to defrost some meat for this week,” she grumbled.

She trudged to the garage and then returned with arms full of frozen chicken thighs that had been stored in the chest freezer. She deposited the frozen meat into the sink and washed her hands. She still had a sour expression on her face.

“I hope you don’t mind pizza tonight,” she said.

“Not at all,” I said.

“Good. I’ll order some around in an hour. In the meantime, I’ll MMPH…”

Unable to hold out any further, I grabbed Aunt Naomi and kissed her full on the mouth. She pulled away from me and delivered a slap to my face. Strangely enough, I found her reaction to be extremely arousing.

“Benjamin! What on Earth has gotten into you?!?” Aunt Naomi cried.

“I need you Aunt Naomi,” I groaned as I started unbuckling my pants.

“You can’t restrain yourself on today of all days? The Lord’s Day?!?”

“‘Restrain’? Where was your restraint when you came into my bedroom last night?!”

“Hush!” she hissed. “Do you want the neighbors to hear us?!”

Unashamedly, I yanked my pants down and bared my erect penis to her. Her eyes went huge as she let out a gasp. She quickly grabbed a dish towel and threw it at me. I was about to catch it, but it landed right on my member and draped itself like a strange tent. Aunt Naomi clasped a hand over her mouth and started to giggle.

“Oh, my goodness,” she laughed. “You look so ridiculous!”

Embarrassment washed over me as I stood there with my pants around my ankles in the middle of my aunt’s kitchen. She kept laughing, clutching her sides at the absurd sight that was me. I couldn’t help but crack a smile at myself as well.

“Ugh, I guess I do look ridiculous,” I admitted. “I’ll go upstairs and take care of this problem myself.”

“You do that,” Aunt Naomi grinned. She snatched the towel away from my crotch and used it to give me a playful swat on my backside as I pulled up my pants and went to my room. I could still hear her giggling as I walked upstairs.

As I closed my bedroom door behind me, I tried to think about the last time I tried to masturbate and came up with nothing. Despite going to a Christian private school, I still heard the guys joke about “choking the chicken”. How hard could it be (no pun intended)?

I took off my clothes and sat on the bed, unsure of what to do next. I really didn’t have any material like a magazine or a video, thanks to Aunt Naomi’s strict ban on pornography. The only naked women I’d ever seen apart from Aunt Naomi were in library books. I grabbed the bottle of lotion on my nightstand and tried to mentally craft a woman to masturbate to. My only thought was to use the faces of the girls from school and church and piece them with the few naked female bodies I had seen in my pitiful life.

Of course, the only woman I was able to vividly imagine was Aunt Naomi. I could just picture her slim body, that perky little backside of hers, and those small yet supple breasts of hers. When I started thinking about that large patch of golden-brown hair between her legs, I was rock hard again. I hastily put some lotion into my hand and grabbed my dick. The memories of our past liaisons played through my head easily.

My reverie was interrupted by the sound of an opening door. Aunt Naomi peeked her head inside and her jaw went slack. I stopped what I was doing and look at her with the utmost annoyance.

“Could you please knock before you come in?!” I yelled.

It was Aunt Naomi’s turn to be upset. “Don’t you raise your voice at me, Benjamin. This is my house. I merely came to see how you were doing.”

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be done in about ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? I warn you, Benjamin, I’m not going to let you spend the rest of the day pleasuring yourself.”

“I’m almost done.”

“You’re not using pornography, are you?”

“Aunt Naomi,” I grumbled, trying hard to rein in my frustration. “I’m trying to finish as soon as possible. Please, wait downstairs.”

Instead of closing the door, she came inside. I eyed her warily as she sat down beside me on the bed. Were we about to have one of our special nephew-aunt times?

“Would you like me to help you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Understand that I…did this for your Uncle Randolph when he was having trouble.”

“Okay.”

She cautiously reached over and grasped my prick, which was still covered in lotion. She then began to slowly move her wrist up and down. Her frigid palm soon started to warm itself from the friction against my skin. I wasn’t sure if Aunt Naomi was a pro at this but having her do it was immensely better than doing it myself. I could feel myself getting harder.

I was in heaven. I took a momentary glance at my aunt, finding her gazing intently at my penis. It seemed as though she was completely absorbed in her task. Just when I thought this couldn’t get any better, she reached over with her other hand and started to massage my balls. My toes curled in rapturous delight.

For her sincere efforts, I rewarded her with three glorious spurts of cum that drenched her fist. I fell backwards, sprawling myself on the bed as I panted with weary satisfaction. Aunt Naomi bent down to give my pecker a tiny kiss before going into the bathroom to wash her hands.