| Auntie Sheila, You're Not Wearing a Bra! – 1 "Auntie Sheila, you're not wearing a bra!" Claire used her shock-horror voice the way that girls of her age do so well. This followed by a giggle. "I can tell because your boobies feel all squishy!" She rubbed her cheek against me, pushing my breast up. I felt an immediate electric shockwave score a direct hit in my crotch. "Squishy? Not sure I like that word, sweetie," I said with a laugh. "No, Auntie Sheila, I meant nice squishy." "Hm. All right. Now, never mind my boobies, let's get back to work." She moved her head again, forcing my breast to jiggle deliciously. It was clear she loved to feel its softness against her cheek, loved how it moved, loved its warmth. We were at the computer, looking for information about some pop star that she had a crush on. I had her perched on one knee, steadying her with my hand resting lightly on her thigh. It was something we had done many times before. Whenever she wanted to go on the net, she would come round to my house. It had become quite a ritual, and one that I adored. I loved to feel her firm body against me, to take in the sweet scent of her, to nuzzle oh so very discreetly into her long shiny black hair, and, best of all, to rest my hand on her thigh, occasionally caressing her by sliding my hand up and down the silken flesh. Absent-mindedly, of course, the way we aunties do! But today, when she phoned to say she wanted to use my computer, she caught me on one of my horniest days. As it happened, I was on my bed, naked, working my fingers to bring some relief to the crazy fire that was burning in my cunt. I said fine, come on over, and threw on a white blouse and my favourite front-buttoning blue denim skirt, the one my ex-girlfriend Ruth used to describe as "easy access". No bra, no tights, no knickers. It gave me a wicked feeling of freedom, of availability, above all of sluttiness. I wondered if my darling little Claire would notice. And she did! I drew her attention back to the screen, and she was soon absorbed in chasing leads provided by Google. I ran my hand along her thigh, my fingertips caressing its tender inner flesh, allowing my hand to creep higher with each stroke. I know that a caressing hand on my thigh would have me wet and tingling in no time. "Wow!" she said in a whisper. "Look at this!" I cannot remember now what it was on the screen that had excited her, but I was happy for her. I hugged her to me, holding her tight against my breasts. "Oh my, Claire, that is SO wonderful! You found what you were looking for. Great!" She swivelled round and threw her arms round my neck and aimed an inaccurate kiss at my cheek. "Oh, thank you, Auntie Sheila!" she breathed. Her movement had caused my hand to become trapped between her thighs, millimetres from her pussy, so close that I could feel its warmth. I held my breath. And I held her with my free arm, savouring her against my free-hanging boobs. I knew that my nipples must have been standing out hard and firm now. She pulled back and looked down at my breasts. Again a giggle and that lovely little girl shock-horror tone in her voice. "Ooh, Auntie Sheila, look at your nipples!" And without warning, she traced their outline with the tip of her forefinger. I felt a release of juice deep inside me. It was electrifying. When I spoke, my voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. "Claire, you know you shouldn't touch me like that." Her face fell. "Why not, Auntie Sheila?" "Just because, sweetie." "But I want to." I smiled at her, conscious of the rising warmth on my trapped hand between her thighs. "Very well, then why don't you touch me properly." Our eyes met, hers wide with bewilderment, mine exuding the love I felt for her at that moment. "Properly? You mean...." A silence and then realisation. "Oh!" Her eyes glittered. "Can I...?" I nodded. Her little fumbling fingers soon managed to undo the buttons of my blouse. She pushed the material back and looked at my breasts, heavy, hanging free, surmounted by stiff nipples standing out proudly from my dark aureoles. Claire seemed stunned by the sight. "It's all right, sweetie. They are yours. Please touch me." I love to have my boobs fondled. Any way any time. They have been gripped and squeezed and sucked and pinched and fondled by many women, but that was nothing compared to the sensation of this eager little girl's hands exploring my breasts, a mix of wonderment and excitement for her, and wet-making thrills for me. She seemed fascinated by the weight of them. She cupped them in her hands, pushing them upwards and then lowering them again. "They are big, aren't they, Auntie Sheila?" It was just a statement of fact, not a compliment. "They are, and they love the way you caress them!" "Really?" The expression of delight in her eyes was so precious. I nodded. She went back to work on my breasts, and I tried hard not to let her become aware of how my breathing had quickened. I bit on my lower lip to stop myself from moaning with pleasure. At that moment, I became aware that I had moved my hand to the top of her thighs and was caressing her little slit through her panties with the knuckle of my thumb. I was stunned. I had done it completely unconsciously — what they call a reflex action, isn't it? And even more amazingly, Claire had apparently not noticed, or, if she had, had not let on. Her hands became still on my boobs and she looked up at me, an earnest expression in her eyes. Her question, when it came, nearly knocked me off my chair. "Auntie Sheila, am I a lesbian?" Good god! Where had that idea come from? I am still not used to how savvy young girls are these days. They know about stuff at nine that I barely knew at nineteen! I took a VERY deep breath, holding my thumb still against her warm slit. "What makes you say that, sweetie?" She blushed. "Well, some girls at school were, you know, talking about stuff. Like how girls can do girls" — define the word DO, I thought — "and it's much better than boys and stuff. Girls can love other girls, and it's ok." "Go on, sweetie." "And, well, I thought, Auntie Sheila, I......" "Go on, sweetie, it's all right." She blurted out the rest of her sentence, "I love you, Auntie Sheila!" By now her face was the colour of beetroot and there were even tears in her eyes. "Well, I love you too, Claire." She shuffled impatiently. "No, I mean, LOVE YOU, you know, like, I love you. Like THIS!" And she grabbed my boobs again and lowered her mouth over one of my nipples. IT just blew my mind. And gave me a surge that travelled to my toes and back to the top of my head. The fluttering deep inside me was almost unbearable. Throwing caution to the winds, I twisted my hand round and insinuated fingers under her panties in order to caress her the way I knew now that she really wanted, even if she didn't know that she wanted it. I felt her stiffen and then relax again as my fingers probed her slit, feeling that dry warmth that makes girls like Claire so unbelievably desirable. Soon, I thought, this pretty little kitty is going to be as wet as mine! With my other hand, I held her head gently as she continued to suck at my nipples, first one then the other, her hands all the time grabbing and fondling and squeezing my breasts. It was hard to believe that she had not done this before, but I felt sure she hadn't. My Claire was an innocent. Carefully, I extricated my hand from between her thighs, and slid it under my skirt so that I could gather my own cuntjuices to anoint Claire's pussy. When I removed my hand, she stopped her nuzzling and looked up at me. "Please, Auntie Sheila, don't stop touching me there. It was SO nice. Makes me all warm and tingly." Sweet child! I didn't reply but instead slid my hand back between her thighs and used my wet fingers to bathe her pussy. "There!" I said breathily. I rested the pad of my middle finger over the little hood of her clitoris, and began to twirl gently. I felt the delicious little button of flesh beneath, responding to my caressing finger. "There, is that nice, my love?" She squirmed and wriggled. Answer enough! And then she became still again. "I am sorry, Auntie, I don't know what to do. I mean, I don't know about how girls love girls and stuff." "Don't worry, my angel, you are doing just fine!" I rubbed her clit some more, and then proceeded to explore the beautiful place between her puffy hairless cuntlips while my thumb continued to caress her clitoris. "WE are doing just fine!" I added. Already my mind was racing ahead. How far could I go with my darling Claire? I was soon to find out. [To be continued. 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