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As I sat in my aunt’s living room, surrounded by her tastefully decorated furniture and cleverly placed trinkets, I couldn’t help but be overcome with desire for her. It was a forbidden desire, one that I had tried to ignore for years, but it had taken root inside me and refused to let go.

My aunt was a stunning woman, even in her mid-forties. Her long, dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her deep brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief. She had at all times been kind to me, treating me like a second son since my parents had passed away when I was young. But lately, I found myself wanting her in a way that made my skin flush and my heart race.

I watched her as she moved around the room, tending to the numerous tasks that kept her busy. She caught me looking at her and smiled a secretive smile that sent a shiver down my spine. I knew that smile well. It was the same one she used when she was about to do something that was definitely not allowed.

I tried to focus on the book I was supposed to be reading, but my mind kept drifting to her. I thought what it would be like to run my hands through her hair, to kiss her soft lips, to feel her body pressed against mine. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help it. The desire was too strong.

As the day wore on, my aunt seemed to be getting bolder and bolder. She brushed up against me as she walked by, letting her hand linger on my arm a beat too long. She stood too close when we talked, her chest barely brushing against mine. All the while, that secretive smile played at the corners of her mouth, as if daring me to do something about it.

It wasn’t until late that night, when we were the only ones left in the house, that she finally made her move. We were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, when she turned to me and said, “You know, I’ve always thought you were a handsome young man.”

I blushed, unsure of what to say. “Uh, thanks,” I managed.

She leaned in closer, her lips almost touching my ear. “I bet you’ve got a lot of girls chasing after you, don’t you?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“Well, then,” she said, taking my hand in hers, “I guess you’ll just have to settle for me.”

Before I could catch my breath, she was kissing me, her lips soft and warm against mine. I tried to withstand, knowing that this was wrong, but it was no use. The desire I had been feeling all day overwhelmed me, and I kissed her back with all the passion I could muster.

We tumbled onto the couch, her body pressed against mine, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. All my worries, all my doubts, all my morals were swept away in the heat of the moment.

But just as quickly as it had started, it was over. My aunt pulled away, her eyes dark with desire. “We can’t do this,” she said, breathless.

“I know,” I said, feeling both relieved and disappointed.

“We can’t tell anyone,” she continued, “not even your father.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

She stood up, straightening her clothes. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, heading towards her bedroom.

I watched her go, still feeling the heat of her kiss on my lips. I knew that what we had done was wrong, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was also right. We were two consenting adults, after all, and we had both wanted it. But the guilt still nagged at me, and I knew that things could never be the same between us.

The next morning, my aunt acted as if nothing had happened. She went about her usual routine, making breakfast and chattering on about the latest news and gossip. But there was a tension between us, an unspoken understanding that something had changed.

As the day wore on, that tension only grew. We avoided each other as much as efficient, only exchanging awkward glances when we had to. I tried to focus on anything else, but my thoughts kept drifting back to her, to the way her body had felt against mine.

It wasn’t until that evening, when we were sitting on the porch, that she spoke again. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not,” I said, surprising myself with the honesty of my words.

She looked at me then, really looked at me, and I could see the desire in her eyes once again. “Neither am I,” she said, as she leaned in to kiss me once more.

This time, there was no hesitation. We kissed with all the desperation and passion that had been building up inside us for years. Our clothes came off quickly, as if we couldn’t wait to be skin against skin. We clung to each other, desperate for the release that we both knew was coming.

And when it did come, it was explosive. We cried out each other’s names as we tumbled over the edge, lost in the moment.

When it was over, we lay there together, our bodies entwined. This time, there was no guilt, no shame, no questioning. We were two people who had desired each other for years finally giving in to that desire.

As the sun rose over the horizon, we both knew that everything had changed. But for that moment, we didn’t care. We were lost in the forbidden pleasure of our desire, and nothing else mattered.
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