Developing with Aunty June


It was an exciting time in my life. Whilst most of my friends seemed to have gone through puberty a little earlier than me, I was only just beginning to find out about what being a woman was like. My puffy little nipples had expanded and a shapely curve of flesh had developed around and under them. My vulva was still mostly bald, but curls of hair had appeared and I began to enjoy playing with them, testing their springy-ness. During these explorations I also began to notice how pleasant it was to touch that soft mound of flesh and push my fingers between the folds - the glow that spread through me like a slow wave and, of course, the moisture that developed in my vagina. I knew enough about these things to enjoy them without any sense of guilt or shame, and tended to spend more and more of my private time doing so.
A lot of afternoons I spent at my uncle and aunt's house. They lived near my school and I often had to wait until after dark before one of my parents could take me home. Uncle Robert was an engineer - a intelligent man who, in retrospect, was married to his job. Aunty June was a photographer, and it was her that took care of me in the afternoons. I had always admired her. My father was a working-class man, and my mother was a meek woman who supplemented my father's income by working as a sales-assistant at a supermarket. So, my aunt was a strong role model for me. I admired her creativity and the relative success she had had in her career. This is the first chapter in the story of how, over a period of weeks, I became my aunty's sexual plaything.
In early Autumn I began training for the school's cross-country running team.

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   I enjoyed exercise, and liked to keep fit. Training for the cross-country, however, really wore me out.
I arrived exhausted to my Aunt's house one afternoon and, after a quick hello, went straight into the shower. When I was drying myself she knocked on the door and offered to give me a massage. She suggested that I come out while my muscles were still warm from the shower, and that I should just wrap a towel around myself.   She had always been kind and warm towards me, but I still had a sort of formal, respectful relationship with her, common to most girls and their Aunts, and she had never gone out of her way like this for me before. Even so, I though it sounded like a good idea. I did exactly what she said but, out of modesty, couldn't help but slip on a pair of clean undies under the towel.

 "Lay down on the bed here. Put your hands by your side, and part you legs a little so I can get stuck into both of them. Just try to relax," she told me. She had a bottle of moisturizer and began to squeeze some into her palm. I was perfectly relaxed as she began to kneed the sole of my left foot.

"Do you like this, Emily?"

"Yes, that foot was really sore today. "


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   Tell me if I am going to hard, or if it starts to hurt, okay?"

She worked her way up to my calves, using her thumbs to separate the muscles. Occasionally I groaned when she hit a bit of muscle that seemed to have grown into a tight, painful ball. She began kneeding the back of my left knee, stopping for a moment to replenish her moisturiser. Next, she switched to my right foot and worked her way up to my right knee.

"Still nice? Let me know if you want anything done differently. "

"No Aunty June, its nice. Thank-you. "

She inched the towel up around my bottom and began sliding her thumbs and palms firmly up the centre of the back of my right thigh. I actually felt a little bit embarrassed that I had put on my underpants, against her instructions, feeling foolish for being so modest. But her massage felt wonderful, as though she was halving the tension like the red sea. She used long sweeping strokes that only stopped when the tips of the finger of her left hand grazed against my bottom. After a few firm strokes she changed to the left side and did the same thing.

"Is that feeling better, Emily?" she enquired.

"That feels great. Thank-you so much.

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"I'll just finish off with a bit more of a nice relaxing massage. Would you like that?"

She began back at my ankles, and with light touches of her finger tips traced her way up to my thighs and back again with long sweeping strokes.

"Do you prefer that, or this?" she asked, and turned her hands around as they passed my knees to lightly draw her fingernails across my skin. A shudder ran up from my thigh, through my spine, to the back of my neck, raising goosebumps on my arms. In a way it tickled, but felt incredible. "I think you like that one", she said smilingly.

"Mmmm, thats nice," I hesitated, wanting to sound as though I was really giving it proper consideration. "I like them both!"

She switched back to her finger tips and traced small circles up my left thigh. It still tickled, and my skin began to crackle with electric sensations at each point where her light touch made contact. My attention was intensely focused on her fingers as they moved up either side of my thigh until her thumbs rested lightly on the cotton of my panties. Her hands pivoted off her thumbs, allowing her fingers to trace delicate circles on the sides of my upper thigh.

"Feeling relaxed?" she asked in a dreamy voice. I just let out a long sigh.

My entire consciousness was focussed on the skin of my upper thigh, so I instantly noticed when the upmost finger angled upwards no more than a few millimeters and grazed the cotton on the crotch of my panties. Then the finger itself moved, and I jumped slightly as it landed on the edge of my panties, on the soft skin at top of my thighs.

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   It remained there, slowly tracing light circles up and down against the elastic, against that sensitive skin so close to my vagina. The most incredible feeling swept through me: a jot of electricity followed by a strong, flowing warmth. But at the same time my mind snapped to attention and all the muscles of my body tensed up. My breathing began to come and go in short gasps.

"Just relax, darling", said Aunty June, "enjoy the massage. "

My mind was suddenly racing. "What's happening? Is she supposed to do that?"

A corner of my mind told me that something was wrong, but I quickly told myself not to be foolish. "This is Aunty June. She wouldn't do anything wrong to me. You are over-reacting to a perfectly innocent situation. " Slowly my body relaxed again, and I decided to allow myself to continue enjoying the massage. And enjoy it I did. The slight pressure of her one fingertip, stroking the soft flesh against my panties, became the sole focus of my attention.  

"Do you like that, Emily?"

"Mmmm," was all I managed. Communicating with her verbally made me feel a little uncomfortable again.

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Her hands switched around, so the fingertips of her left hand rested on the left cheek of my bottom and the fingertips of her right hand on my right cheek. Her thumbs came down to the inside up my upper thigh, resting lightly against the edge of my panties. Again I shuddered with a warm bolt of pleasure. She began to draw them up and down in synchrony, brushing them against my thighs and outer crotch. This time I let an involuntary "ugh" escape from my slightly parted lips, and began to squirm my hips a little. The feeling was amazing - unlike anything I had ever imagined. Her fingertips, too, began to fan out across the pink cotton covering each cheek of my bottom, sending with them little jolts of electric pleasure.

"You have a lovely bottom, Emily. You're lucky. We have good bottoms in our family," Aunty June stated, casually.

"Thank. . . " I began, but my voice failed me. "Thank-you", I said again.

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"Which do you like most? What my fingers are doing, or my thumbs?" she enquired with the same casual tone.

"Um. . . probably. . . the fingers. " It wasn't true, but for some reason I didn't want to give away just how amazing her thumbs felt as they brushed my delicate skin.  

"Part your legs a little more. "

Parting my legs seemed to widen the angle where my thighs met my crotch, and her thumbs worked in even more snugly.  

"Thats better, isn't it? I always enjoy a good massage after I've exercised. Are you enjoying this one?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you. "

"What part do you like most, Emily?"


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  . . " I hesitated for a few seconds, "probably when you used your finger nails".

She removed her thumbs from my crotch and, lowering one hand to the back of each knee, stroked her fingernails slowly and lightly up to the creases of my bottom. Again I moaned, "Ugh", and almost arched my back with the sudden jolt of pleasure her fingernails sent up my spine. A warm glow spread up my back again, restoring goosebumps to my arms. Her fingernails continued, up onto the cotton of my pink panties, and traced broad circles on my sensitive bottom. They turned and traced back down my bottom, with the small fingers on either side of my bottom drawing down the valley between my cheeks. Next, her right hand left my bottom and I felt it land softly on my upper right thigh. Her left hand also left my bottom, and for a moment it seemed to have disappeared. The next thing I knew I was being lightly touched by two fingers right in the centre of my crotch, where my thin pink panties covered the mouth of my vagina.

"Augh!" I moaned, and my hips jumped of the mattress. An even more incredible sense of pleasure coursed through me, made more intense by the shock I felt at being touched in such a private place. I had never been touched there before.

Now the fingers began to rub very gently, and every cell of skin on the lips of my vagina seemed to feel them individually.

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   I felt incredible.

Suddenly I was struck by a horrifying thought. I remembered that when I played with my vagina, such pleasant feelings were always accompanied by my vagina becoming very moist. Sometimes the moisture even dripped out of me in globs of slimy fluid. I became terrified that that might be happening to me now! What would my Aunty think of me if she saw me reacting that way to her massage?

"I think you must be enjoying this a lot, Emily. Are you?" my Aunt enquired, just as these guilty thoughts passed through my mind.

"Yes Aunty June. "

"How much?"

"Um. . . a lot?" I answered tentatively, not knowing what kind of response she was looking for.

"Well, I think we'd better finish up there. Would you like it if we had another massage after your next training session?"

"Yes, please. "

"Good girl. "

In a final gesture, she stroked all the fingers of her left hand up from the bottom of my crotch, where it met the mattress, across my thinly-covered vagina, through the valley of my bottom, and across my left bottom cheek.

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   I turned my head to see if she appeared to be finishing her massage just in time to see her lowering her hand from her face, as though she had been smelling it. She gave me a friendly smile.

"Why don't you go and pop your clothes back on before your mum gets here. "

I pulled the towel back down to cover my bottom, and pushed myself off the mattress to get up. Aunty June had walked out of the room, and I went to where my clothes were piled in the bathroom. As soon as I had closed the door I let the towel drop, and hurriedly took off my panties. To my horror, the entire crotch was stained dark pink with moisture. The gooey liquid was so think that globs of it were sitting on the cotton. Placing two fingers in my vagina I felt that it was still very wet, and I pulled my fingers out coated with slimy moisture. How could I have become so aroused by a massage from my Aunty? I felt confused and ashamed, but I also still felt incredibly exhilarated. Even the touch of my own fingers sent shivers through my naked body.

For the next few days I continued to feel uncomfortable about that afternoon at Aunty June and Uncle Robert's house. My confusion over what happened and, more importantly, how I could have reacted so lewdly to my Aunty's good-intentions seemed to always be on my mind. When I had returned to the house the day afterwards, I felt a little awkward in front of my Aunty and I was probably less talkative that usual. Luckily my Uncle arrived home early for the remainder of the week, which eased the tension.

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Early the next week my mother took a call from Aunty June, and told me that she had offered to give me some lessons in photography. I was excited by this, having secretly always wanted to try photography because of my adoration of Aunty June. They arranged for dad to pick me up late the next evening so that she could teach me some of the basics.

When I arrived that afternoon I was concerned to learn that Uncle Robert was not going to home until late that evening, but consoled myself by knowing that Aunty June and I would be out-and-about with our cameras. Still, I had to admit to myself that a part of me wanted to have another massage, and I even felt a thrill of excitement at the thought. I had been thinking about it a lot during the week, and not just in a guilty way.

"Well, Emily, I'm very pleased that you are interested in photography. I have some photos ready to be developed today, so I thought we'd start from the end and work backwards. Have you ever been in a darkroom before?"

"No. . . ". My heart leapt into my mouth. Would I have to be all alone with her in a darkroom until late that night? The thought of it made all my discomfort reappear.

She took me to the back of the house, to a small door next to the former bedroom of their youngest child, who had recently moved out of home to start university.


   She opened the door to reveal a small room with a number of sinks, a clothes-line running overhead, and a bunch of boxes and bottles stacked neatly against one wall.

"Here it is. . . this is where all the action takes place," said Aunty June, smiling warmly, "Come in. "

After I had entered she switched on a red light and closed the door.

"Its important that nobody disturbs us when the prints are developing, so we'll make sure this door is locked", and with that Aunty June turned a key in the door and placed it in the pocket of her blouse.

Aunty June walked to a bench, where she took some paper out of a black bag and placed it under a machine that looked like a microscope.  

"First we're going to expose the paper to light, but the light is being shone through a negative so that the paper will absorb the image of the photo. The process of developing the print, which we'll do next, is all about using chemicals to bring the image out of the paper", she explained as she worked.

She shone a light through the machine for a few seconds, and then placed the paper in a bowl of liquid.

"Come and have a look Emily".

I walked over to her, and saw that the black and white image of a tree in a park was beginning to appear on the paper. She placed the paper in some more liquid and explained that after developing the image it was important to stop the imaging from developing too much.

"Do you want to try one?" she asked.

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"Sure. It doesn't look too difficult," I smiled.

Going to the machine, she moved the negatives to select a new photo, and then showed me where to switch on the light to expose the paper.

"Now, take the paper to the developing fluid and make sure it is fully and evenly immersed".

I placed the paper in the liquid and held it down with some tongs. Before my eyes an imaged began to appear - a young woman laying back on a couch, staring intently at the camera, wearing nothing but a pair of track-suit pants.

"Oh, thats a great photo," said my Aunty, "What you are developing there is a shot of one of the models I work with. "

I felt embarrassed looking at a naked woman with my Aunty, but assured myself that this was the kind of thing a photographer would do on a daily basis.

Aunty June came up behind me, leaning over me so that our shoulders were touching.

"She is a very beautiful woman, don't you think. "

"Yes," was all I said, merely for the sake of replying.

"Put it in the next solution now so that we don't ruin such a nice shot," she instructed. "This woman has such beautiful breasts. They are very full, and shapely. "

I didn't know what to say.

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"What do you call breasts, Emily?"

I hesitated, again unsure what to say. "Um. . . I just call them breasts, I guess".

"Yes, but there are a lot of names for them," said Aunty June, as though she were giving me a lesson. "I usually call them tits. Have you heard them called that?"

I had. "No, not really".

"Trying saying it. . . say 'I think she has nice tits', just to see how it sounds".

"I think she has nice tits," I repeated.

"What do you like about them?"


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  . . . they're nice and round. . . They look nice. "

"Yes, they are very beautiful. And her nipples are very shapely. I remember they were dark brown, and you can see that they rise up to a nice pointy tip just at the base of her tits. "

I looked at her nipples and noticed hat Aunty June was correct - they did have a nice shape.

"I always wished I had nicer tits, but now that I'm a bit older I think they are just fine. Your mother and I have very similar tits. Here. .

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   have a look".

Aunty June stepped back from me, pulled her blouse out of her knee-length skirt, and began to undo the buttons. I felt uncomfortable, but continued to watch her out of politeness. Underneath her blouse she had no bra, and her breasts appeared as she shrugged off each shoulder of her blouse. They were not large, but they had weight to them, and retained a circular shape about the size of a mango. Her nipples puffed up from the rest of her breasts, like mine appeared to be doing, and the tip of the nipple sat somewhat flatly, like a button, at the centre of that puffy pink area.

"Lets compare yours to mine," said Aunty June.

"But I don't want to get cold," I protested feebly.

"Don't worry about that. . . it gets quite warm in here with the door closed".

Aunty June reached forward, took the hem of my school sport t-shirt in both hands, and raised it over me head. I had a sports bra on, though I really didn't need a bra yet. Aunty June also pulled that over my head.

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   I warm surge or embarrassment swept over my chest and face. Aunty June was smiling warmly, staring at my young breasts. The still cool air hit my nipples and I felt them tighten. Small goose-bumps appeared on the raised pink nipples. I noticed that the cool air must have effected Aunty June as well - her previously flat nipples now stood about 5 millimeters out from the surrounding pink area.

"Oh. . . those are some lovely young tits you have there, Emily. "

"Thankyou," I replied politely.

Aunty June reached out and touched the base of my left breast, just where it had begin to protrude in a curve of flesh from my chest.

"Mmmmm, very firm," she said. Gently stroking the bottom of my breast, she moved her hand to the side of my chest and pulled to turn me around. As I turned she came up behind me and pulled me against her. My head rested between her breasts, and I felt them nuzzling my ears on either side of my head.

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   She reached both arms around me and hugged me to her.

"You are a very precious girl Emily, and I've always thought you were wonderful," said Aunty June.

"Thank-you Aunty June".

"Sometimes things can get difficult in life and it always helps to have someone who cares about you. I hope you'll always see me as a person like that", she paused, "and it is always comforting to have someone special who can comfort you and make you feel nice. "

"Thankyou," I repeated.

Her arms unlocked from around me and both hands came up my pelvis. Rather than coming to land, they hovered over my breasts so that both of her palms gently grazed over the tips of my nipples.

"Augh!" I gasped. The familiar electric sensation seized me, shooting out of my nipples and down my pelvis to my crotch.

"Do you like me touching your tits, me then. . . "

I paused, but realised there was nothing to do but go along with her.  

"I like you touching my tits.

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  . . "

"Tell me 'I want you to keep touching my tits Aunty June'", she said calmly.

"I want you to keep touching my tits Aunty June"

"Okay then Emily. I can tell you are enjoying it. Its very pleasant, isn't it?"

I felt terribly embarrassed, but I was also in a blissful state. Each small circle of her palms pulled my nipples in little circles and sent a warm glow through my body.  

"Yes. . it is so nice to be able to comfort each other, and make one-another feel nice", she stated. "Do you know what it means when people talk about having a 'wet pussy', Emily?"

I was pretty sure I knew what she meant, but shook my head.

"When a woman feels nice her vagina becomes nice and wet. It means that she is feeling very pleasant. Another name for a woman's vagina is 'pussy'. People might tell you that only a man can make a woman's pussy wet, but that isn't true.

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   A woman can make her own pussy wet, or another woman can make her pussy wet. Does that make your pussy wet now, Emily? I just want to know if I'm helping you to feel nice. "

"Um. . I don't know. . . " I was horrified to think that it probably was.

"You had a wet pussy last week when I gave you a massage. . . " said said, and paused to let her words sink in. "It was very wet, in fact. I liked that because it meant you were enjoying the massage. Do you remember that you pussy was Its nice to know that you are helping someone to feel good.

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   Tell me that I made your pussy wet last week, Emily. Say 'Aunty June. . . '"

"Aunty June, last week you made my pussy wet. "

"Thats good, Emily. Were you gratetful for what I let me know so that I know to do it for you again. Say 'Aunty June. . . . '"

"Aunty June, thank-you for making my pussy wet during your massage last week. "

"You're welcome Emily. Any time. Any time you want me to do that for you, just ask me.

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   Any time you need some comforting just say,'Aunty June, can you please make my pussy wet?', okay?"

"Okay," I replied.

"Lets just see if you are feeling relaxed right now. . . "

My Aunty's hands left my nipples and her fingertips trailed down my flat abdomen to my skirt. She reached down to my thighs and raised her hands up under my skirt to my hips. All my muscles were tense with nervousness and excitement. She hooked her thumbs under each side of my panties and lowered them over my hips to my thighs. Then one of her hands pushed them lower until they fell to my ankles, catching momentarily at my knees. I glanced down to see a dark stain and visible moisture covering the crotch of my light blue panties.  

"Spread your legs a little, Emily. "

I did as I was told.

"Now lean forward for me and lean against the bench. "

I also did that. Aunty June reached behind me and raised my skirt over my bottom so it sat bunched on my lower back.


   I felt a flush rush over me at the embarrassment of having my bare bottom and vagina exposed like that, in clear view for my Aunty. At this angle even the cheeks of my bottom would be parted and she would even be able to see my anus quite clearly. Standing that way made me feel as though I was offering it all to her, allowing her to touch it or look at it as she pleased.

"What a lovely smooth bottom, Emily. And I can see that your pussy is nice and moist. "

She placed a hand on the lower curve of each of my bottom cheeks and slowly, tantalizingly, slid them forward around the top of my thigh along both sides of my vagina.

"Why do you think they call it a pussy, Emily?"

"I don't know. . . "

"Well, firstly, when a woman gets a little older than you it becomes nice and furry, just like a cat. So it is nice to pat and stroke. And also, like a cat, it really likes to be patted and stroked. Usually having it patted and stroked even makes a woman purr like a pussy-cat. "

She removed one hand and placed it on my hip. The other hand cupped my entire vulva and began gently rubbing back and forth.

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   I arched my back with the sheer pleasure of the sensation Aunty June was creating, and parted my lips as I looked to the ceiling.

"Mmmm. . . your pussy is very excited, Emily. If you feel like you need to purr or make other noises, feel free to. I'd like to know I was doing something nice for you. "

"Okay. . . " I managed to breathe in a whisper, "Augh. . . . ".

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"With the tops of my fingers I'm touching your clitoris," she began a slow circling action with the tips of her fingers at the top end of my vulva. "Your clit is an especially sensitive part of your pussy. It is very pleasant to have someone touch your clit if they do it in the right way. It is also very pleasant to have someone kiss it. Maybe sometime if you ask me I will kiss your clit for you, Emily. "

I looked down, between my legs, and saw her fingertips cupping my crotch, applying pressure in a circular motion. My skin had turned bright red from my belly right up to my breasts. I noticed that I had also begun to rock my hips back and forward, grinding my vagina into Aunty June's hand. I was feeling incredibly good - my mind had drifted into a dream world. Aunty June released the pressure on my clitoris and lowered her hand. I looked back between my legs and felt embarrassed to see her cupping her hand about 10cm below my vagina. A long stream of liquid was seeping out of my vagina, and Aunty June was catching the drip in her hand. When it finally dropped into a small pool in her palm she withdrew her hand to reach up under her own skirt, though I couldn't see exactly what she was doing.

"Can you see the picture in the water in front of you, Emily?"

"Yes," I looked back to the table.

"When I touch you from now on I want you to keep your eyes on the woman in that picture.

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I didn't know why she wanted me to do that, but I nodded my head. I felt her reconnect with my clit, using the opposite hand. It still felt incredible.

"What are you looking at on the picture, Emily?" she asked, recommencing a gently rubbling motion.

"Ah. . . . her eyes. "

"What else can you see?"

"Her hair. . . "

"Yes, and lower down?"

"Her tits. . .

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"What are you looking at on her tits?"

"Her nipples. . . . Auugh. . . . "

"Do you feel nice while you look at her tits and nipples, Emily?"

"Ye. . . yes. . . "

I noticed myself rotating my hips, forcing my clit against Aunty June's fingertips.

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   My mouth was hanging open, and I was beginning to breath very heavily.

"Tell me what words you have learnt from me today. "

"Tits. . . pussy. . . . and. . . ugh. . .

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   clit. . . "

"Another good word for a pussy is 'cunt'. For example, 'I enjoy touching your lovely cunt, Emily'. Also, you might like to use the word 'fuck'. Thats what it is called when you put something in your cunt to make you feel good, like a finger or something else. So you might say, 'Please fuck my pussy with your fingers', for example. "

"Oh. . . augh. . . " I began to feel that I was loosing control - that the pleasant feelings were overtaking my mind.

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   I stared at the tits in the photograph to try to remain focussed.

"Finally, you might like to know the word 'cum'. Thats when you feel so nice that all the excitement comes in one explosive feeling. You might say ' Aunty June fucked my cunt until I came', or 'Please Aunty June, can I make you cum'. I think you might be going to cum any second now, Emily, and then you will know what I mean. "

I was barely listening to Aunty June. Her words were washing over me like background noise. I felt my body rushing towards a feeling of overwhelming pleasure that scared and excited me. I could feel it coming and could do nothing to stop it.

"Emily, make up some sentences to show me that you have understood all the words I have taught you today," Aunty June demanded.

"Augh. . um. . .

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   my cunt is wet. . . " I moaned.

"Yes, go on. "

"Fuck me till I touch my tits and kiss my clit. . . fuck my pussy. . . AUGH. . . Aunty June! AUGH.

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  . . "

I was lost in an overwhelming sensation. I wasn't even able to talk. My legs began to shake and buckle underneath me. Warm waves rushed over my body and jolts of electricity coursed from my pussy to my tits and back again.

Suddenly it was over, and I collapsed into my arms on the bench top. Now I knew what it was like to cum. My body was warm all over, and a gently glow of pleasure still radiated from my clit, where Aunty June's fingers were resting gently. All I was aware of was my breathing, and Aunty June's rapid breaths.

"Augh. . . " I heard her gasp behind me. Looking around I saw her staring at my pussy, with her left hand under her skirt and her mouth hanging wide open.

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   I guessed that she was also rubbing her own clit. Her tits bounced up and down, throwing her nipples into a rotating motion.

"Oh Emily. . . Oh. . . your little pussy is so sweet. . . I love you so much. . . " she suddenly blurted, "Augh.


  . . fuck. . . . you cunt. . . you beautiful little cunt. . . I need your fresh young cunt. . .

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  . AUGH!"

Aunty June suddenly stopped, released her hand, and grabbed hold of both of my hips as though she was holding on for her life. She pressed against me, raising her skirt over my still upraised bottom. Leaning over my back, she kissed me between the shoulder blades, breathing heavily all the time. Her tits were wet with sweat against my back, and her warm legs nuzzled up against my own bare legs.

"Wasn't that nice Emily. . . "

"Yes. Thank-you Aunty June. "

She sighed, "You are very very welcome, Emily. We can do that any time you like. Would you like that?"

"Yes. . .

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  " and I was completely genuine. It had felt amazing and I wanted to feel that way again, despite the rising feelings of guilt I still experienced.

"Good. I really do love you, do you know she said, standing up and straightening her skirt, "We should make the best of our time and process some more of these photos. What do you say?"



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