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John's stay promts his aunt's sexual lust to explode.

"Really! Blow them, everything?"

"If you want me to."

He was grinning wide enough to split his face. "Wow! Great!" Then he became pensive, as if musing on a thought, "You've got a big bottom," he said, pinching her. She flinched, but not at the pinch. She was aware of him reaching for something and some preparation taking place. Then she felt a cold cream being applied to her anus. A finger briefly penetrated it. She felt him shift his position and then he was pulling the cheeks of her bottom open and a blunt force was pushing at the entrance to her rectum.

"No, that hurts!" she exclaimed. "Only for a moment," he replied gruffly. He pushed harder and the head of his cock slid into her arse-hole, making her gasp in pain. He began to fuck her vigorously, entering deep, up to his balls. Jill, turned on by the pictures he had put in her head, worked at him, pushing her arse hard against him. He reached around and found her clit, flicking it in time with his thrusts. Jill began to enjoy it as her cunt walls felt him through her arsehole.

"Oh, oh, Paulie," she cried, using her pet name for him. His hot jizz squirted into her and he relaxed against her back.

As he pulled free from the tight grip of her anus, wiping himself on her bed sheet he said, "That's how Tim will want it." Jill wondered if he would be the only one. A moment later he was out of bed, pulling on his jeans. As he dressed he studied the print on the wall. "I thought someone like you would have had something a bit more classy," he said.

"My father gave me that, it's a copy of a famous painting," she told him. And she thought, what does he mean, "someone like me?"

"You should have one of those big fat women, you know?"

"You mean a Renoir?" she asked.

" Whatever, I'll see you on Wednesday then, about eleven. With the others."

"Yes," she answered, "with the others."


She spent the next day doing mundane things; shopping, watching t-v. During the evening she tidied the flat up a bit, hiding precious things from the view of strangers.

She had been unable to sleep properly and was up early on Wednesday. She left the bedroom curtains closed. Feeling like a girl on a first date, she showered and washed her hair but did not put on any make-up or jewellery. Paul had not asked her to wear any particular clothing (unlike some of her older men-friends would), so she put on a thin summer dress with a pretty matching bra and panty set from Marks & Spencer and a pair of low-heeled pumps.

Nervous, Jill took a glass of brandy, she thought; better watch it, girl first sign of being an alky!

At eleven, nothing happened. The doorbell rang at ten past. She opened the door and Paul, looking serious walked in past her and up the stairs, followed by the others. In her lounge they slouched around the room on her couch and chairs, smoking and dropping ash anywhere, eight or nine of them, Jill trying hopelessly to count them. Paul introduced them so quickly she could not remember the names, except one tall, well-built boy; Tim, probably enormous when in action.

Jill had wondered how they would go about this; surely it wasn't enough just to go to a girls place and make love to her, one after the other? But Paul had obviously given this some thought. He took her alone to the bedroom, holding her hand. He sat her on the edge of the bed. She smiled at him but he didn't smile back.

"They want you to be blindfolded," he told her, pulling a black elastic sided airline sleep mask from his pocket. Troubled by this Jill asked, "Why?"

"They don't want you to know which is which." He placed it over her eyes.

Being unable to see made a difference to her however, as Paul undressed her she felt less self-conscious. She was unable to see that the others had tiptoed to the door and were watching as he dropped her bra to the floor; the obscene gesture at the bottom that was too big.

When he had told them about her they had thought she was too old; they had been wrong.

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