Aunt Cora
by Belisarius

Part 3

I enjoyed three or four more bondage adventures with Cora before the Christmas Vacation came hurtling down on me and I had to return home for the Festivities. Even though I had not progressed any further with her, I couldn’t wait to try again, so sure was I that sooner or later she would allow me full access.

Christmas with my parents was not a bundle of laughs and to make matters worse they had invited my cousin, Grace, to stay with us. Grace – there’s a joke, she was overweight, had crooked teeth and a laugh like a hyena. In fact, before she arrived, my father warned me to refrain from saying anything witty. She was supposedly training to become an accountant, but only showed interest in the doings of Mr Cliff Richard. However, she did have huge tits and as Yuletide wore on they became singularly more attractive.

I lay awake mainly thinking of Cora, but she was often sidelined by a vivid pictures of Grace’s breasts tightly bound with thin cord.

My chance to find out came when, unusually, my parents went to bed early and left ‘the young people’ watching television.

“Boys love my titties, Tom, did you know that?” simpered Grace after a while.

I coughed and listened intently, fearing that my folks might be still about.

“My other cousin, George, says he’ll give me anything if I’ll show them to him.”

“Ahem…. Really?”

“What would you do for me, if I showed them to you.”

I asked myself if this was a chance I could afford to pass up and found myself saying, “Well, I’d want more than a sight of them, I’d want to…. to, er… do things to them.”

“Oh, you’re a forward one, aren’t you…… What would you want to do to them, they’re lovely and soft and squashy?” She leered at me.

“I’d give you ten shillings if you took off all your clothes and allowed me to tie-up your breasts.”

“Oooohhhhh, Tom, that’s weird,” she pulled a series of faces, but I could see that she was interested.

“Come on,” I said, “you must have played cowboys and indians at some time and been bound to a tree ready for torture.”

She simpered again and gave her hyena laugh, but only a quiet one, “All right, but I’m not taking my knickers off.”

“Well, I’m only paying seven-and-six for that.”

“Suit yourself, if that’s the case I might as well go to bed.”

“All right, all right, ten bob it is, I’ll go and get the string.”

As I left the room I saw that she was beginning to strip and God forgive me I began to harden. Fortunately, my dad always had a good supply of twine to hand, him being a very keen horticulturalist.

When I returned to the living room Grace was standing before the fire, naked apart from her black, heavy looking panties. I was surprised at how little she was wearing, only a skirt, jumper and a large brassiere made of a shiny, pink material, lay beside her.

“Where do you want me?” she asked.

As long as she kept her mouth shut I decided she was quite a sight. Her breasts were very full, casting deep shadows beneath them and were tipped with large, brown nipples. As I looked I realised that she wasn’t so much fat as well-made, her great, curved thighs being a sight to behold.

I didn’t want her lying down because I didn’t wish her tits to lose any of their bulk due to the force of gravity, “Sit on the fireside stool,” I ordered.

I stood behind her and brushed my hands across her shoulders and down on to her breasts. She was right, they were wonderfully soft and comforting. I began to squeeze and knead them and under my fingers I felt her nipples hardening and coming to attention.

I took a length of twine and quickly lashed Grace’s wrists together behind her back.

“Hey, you never mentioned tying my hands.”

I ignored her as I wrapped cord around her ankles and pulled it tight.

“That’s an extra five bob,” she said.

I was expecting further protest (or at least a demand for extra money) but when I looked up at her face her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily.

I stroked her legs a few times before wrapping more cordage around her thighs just above her knees and cinched it as tightly as I could.

She still said nothing and I had a close look at the vee of her panties, through the legs of which I could see wisps of curly brown hair. How I wanted to pull them down, but dared not.

“Oh…., Oh….., Tom, you are a naughty boy…..,” she whispered gently thus encouraging me to develop further her bondage.

Cora always enjoyed a crotch rope, so I wondered if Grace would too. The cord I had was a bit thin for such a job so I popped into the hall to take the belt from my raincoat, which proved to be suitable, for within seconds Grace was pulling the thin fabric of the belt deep into her cunt, making sighing and groaning noises all the while.

Now that she was secure I stood back to enjoy my handiwork. Before me sat a large young woman, bound helplessly, tugging at the crotchrope which provided both satisfaction and frustration to her.

“Right, time for your tits,” I said, picking up a further length of twine in the centre of which I fashioned a slip-knot.

Tying a woman’s breasts securely is much more difficult than one first supposes. They keep flopping out of the bondage, or sink out of shape or slip into a position that is not desirable to the beholder. However, I eventually managed it by using two lengths of cord, one for each breast, which I tied tightly at the base.

Grace made no complaint, I think that the crotch rope and her breasts subdued had just about brought her to the edge of orgasm.

I then set to work on her nipples with my tongue and teeth, sucking, nibbling whilst my fingers roamed across her thighs, frequently brushing against her vagina and working along the waistband of her panties.

She began to dribble and her breaths were coming in great lungfuls, as she was so taken with her bondage I thrust my hand down her panties, across her pubic mound and into the restricted entrance to her cunt. It was wet, warm and deep and she immediately pushed herself on to my fingers.

My happiness was complete, at last I had my fingers into a vagina and perhaps my cock could soon follow them. With my spare hand I began to clear away the restriction of the crotch rope.

Then disaster, Grace; in full orgasmic flow, began to howl and I mean howl. The neighbourhood cats ran for their lives and dogs for a block around began to join in the racket.

“TOM, WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?” It was my mother’s voice and it sounded as though she was out of bed and at the top of the staircase.

A stunned silence followed which seemed to last ages, but then I found my voice, “Sorry, mum, just some silliness….”

My heart was beating heavily, all I needed now was my mother to arrive and find her niece bound hand and foot with her knickers half way down her thighs enjoying the end of an orgasm.

She might insist I marry Grace, leave university and join dad in his business. A fate worse than death.

“My fault, Aunt Charlotte,” supported Grace, “We had a tickling contest and I won. Sorry, we’ll be quiet now.”

“All right, then,” called mother, “But be sensible…..”

“That’d be a nice change,” my father entered the conversation.

Grace and I breathed a sigh of relief and then I began to unravel her from all the knots I had tied.

“I didn’t know that my boring cousin could be as exciting as this,” said Grace once she was freed.

“It’s amazing how much one’s mind is broadened by university life, you ought to try it,” I replied, my mind slipping back to concentrate on Aunt Cora.

“Hand the cash over.”

I gave her a ten shilling note.

“Another six-and-six, please. Come on, hand it over.”

“What’s the extra 1/6d for?” I was puzzled.

“Administration charges.”

Perhaps she will make an accountant, I thought to myself as I hunted about for change.

End of part 3

Copyright© 2012 by Belisarius. All rights reserved.