These emotions seem very conflicting, and they absolutely were. As much as I was enjoying my new relationship with my aunt, it was sure pushing me to some difficult places in my mind that I was being forced to sit in and examine at all times.
It was a very tumultuous state of mind, but it all fell away when I had my cock in my hand, spraying all my lusty thoughts onto towels and tissues. Sometimes I would be repeating in my mind “Aunt Freya, Aunt Freya, oh FUCK… AUNTIE FREYA!” I could see her body in my mind, urging me to indulge in depravity, and when I thought of her staring into my eyes as I was gyrating, climbing to the peak, it would push me right over the edge.
This continued as school began, and I felt like it was distracting me from my studies. The idea that masturbating was feeding into my feelings toward my own aunt occurred to me, and I considered quitting masturbation entirely, at least while under her roof. That idea kept crumbling the very moment my balls unleashed spurt after spurt, night after night.
It came to a climax (ha ha) one night, about a month into my stay. I was lying in bed, stiff erection in hand, really getting into things, when I heard a sharp knock at the door. My heart instantly flew into a frantic, fearful rhythm. I couldn’t really speak at first, which didn’t really matter, as she spoke before I had the chance.
“You… really shouldn’t be moaning my name while you touch yourself. It… isn’t right.”
This was not a playful tone. And… was I actually saying her name out loud? I thought it was just in my head? What the fuck?
I only managed a soft squeak of “ok.”
Her footsteps receded and I felt my soul leave my body. I was suddenly soft and shriveled, in my heart as well as between my legs.
After I finished crying from unfiltered mortification, I decided it was time to quit masturbating to my aunt… or even at all. She was right. This was wrong. It was more than wrong. It was perverted and so far beyond fucked up that I wasn’t sure I could look myself in the eye the next morning.
As it turned out, I couldn’t. Fortunately, I didn’t need to worry about looking Aunt Freya in the eye because she wasn’t home. I prepared myself for school with solemn determination to henceforth not allow myself to violate my aunt in my thoughts.
This proved to be futile.
One day, a month after she caught me fantasizing about her, I came home from school, dead tired. The hours had seemed to drag on and on and on. College was a drag, but maybe that was my own fault.
During the lectures, I couldn’t keep focused. My mind kept wandering to images of Aunt Freya – her breasts trapped behind her bra, just briefly visible as she was pulling a shirt over her head – her large behind through her jeans when she was staring out the window – but mostly, I thought of her mischievous eyes. They seemed to always know what was happening inside you. It was like she was in on your secrets and would use them to taunt you.
My jeans were too tight. I could feel my cock stiffening repeatedly throughout the day. My skin burned, like it was giving off a scorching heat in my pants, and my briefs were getting soaked with my precum. It was like I had been wandering in a desert, swallowed in a whirling haze of lust for days on end, and now it was reaching a peak.