I never expected to find my 35-year-old aunt Lily crying on the sofa when I came home. Her boyfriend had just dumped her, and she was a mess with her B-cup tits heaving under that thin top. "Can I give you a massage?" I offered, feeling bold.

She nodded weakly. My hands worked her shoulders, kneading the tension from her slim frame as her scent filled my nostrils. She moaned softly, relaxing into my touch. "Sleep with me tonight," she whispered, and my dick twitched.

Next evening, she asked for another rubdown. After, we curled up in bed, sharing chaste cheek kisses. But I wanted more. The third night, I massaged her until her breath hitched, then brushed my lips near hers. She didn't pull away. Later, she ground her pussy against my bulging jeans, while my hand snuck under her shirt, palming her soft tit.

By the fifth evening, I found her exhausted and sad. I rubbed her back until she melted, kissing her lips fully. She sank into bed wearing only panties. When I dozed off, I jolted awake to her mouth around my cock, sucking like a thirst slave.

Next night, we moved nearly naked, teasing each other. During massage, I stripped her bare, fingers gliding over her smooth skin, lips kissing her neck and hard nipples. She whimpered like needy bitch.

Expertly squeezing her perky tits, I licked her buds to stiff peaks—then she guided my fingers into her dripping slit. "Fuck me," she begged. That cunt sopping as I slid my swollen cock