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I had all the time been close to my Aunt Margaret. As a young boy, I would run to hug her whenever she visited. Over the years, we would catch up on life, sharing stories and experiences, and she would offer me advice, providing me with a perspective that only an older and wiser individual could provide. But as I grew older, my relationship with Aunt Margaret changed- it became more complicated, nuanced, and eventually, it became sexual.

It all began one summer when I was home from school. I had returned to keep up with my studies and not miss out on the fun. My parents were gone, and my aunt had come to stay with me so that I wouldn’t be alone. She was a gorgeous woman- tall, with long dark hair that cascaded down her back like flowing silk, with large brown eyes that could pierce your soul and a body that was fuller than the average woman. She was voluptuous, with full breasts and hips that swayed with every step.

At first, nothing seemed amiss in our relationship. We did the usual things and spent our day’s sightseeing and eating out. Aunt Maggie cooked for me, and I did my best to be a good housekeeper. But I started to notice her differently. I found myself looking at her curves and imagining what it would have felt like to touch her skin. I would blush when she caught me looking, and she would just laugh it off till one day, she called me over as we sat outside on the porch with a glass of wine.

We joked about things and made merry until she said that she had something she wanted to tell me, something crucial. The look in her eyes made me nervous, and I shifted in my seat, wondering what could be so serious that she had to tell me. As she spoke, I stilled, afraid to breathe, afraid to move, afraid that she knew what I was thinking.

“David, I have been lusting after you for some time now. I know that I should not let these thoughts tear us apart, but I can’t help myself.”

My mouth went dry, and my stomach churned with anticipation. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I wanted to push her away, but at the same time, I wanted to touch her. Our eyes locked, and I could see the intensity of the desire simmering just beneath her calm expression. My instincts kicked in, and I could feel the heat of her body drawing me into her, thrilling me in methods that I never had been before.

As we sat there, our hands intertwined, our heartbeats slowed down, and we both knew that there was no turning back. I leaned in for a kiss, and she responded passionately, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. From then on, things moved quickly, and we spent every free moment together exploring our desires and fantasies.

We would sneak in kisses whenever we could- in the kitchen, in the living room, even in the shower. She called me her ‘boy-toy,’ and I reveled in that feeling of domination. Her body curves would send my senses reeling, and we’d lose ourselves in acts of intense pleasure. The physical and emotional satisfaction was beyond anything I had ever experienced, and we were both as insatiable as each other.

Our relationship was forbidden, with the fear of being caught adding to the thrill. It was like living on the edge of excitement, where danger gave birth to an intense feeling of exhilaration. My aunt and I knew what we were doing was wrong, but we didn’t care. We couldn’t help ourselves. The taboo nature of our passion only fueled our attraction and made us want each other even more.

As our relationship deepened, our bodies became more responsive to each other. We were both consummated with heat, ardor, and lust, and every time we made love, it was like the first time. We would spend hours in bed, exploring each other’s bodies, learning new things about each other, and discovering new methods to please each other.

One day, as I lay in her arms, I started to panic, fearing that our relationship would break aside if somebody found out. I wanted her for myself, but at the same time, I was afraid of losing her. At the same time, I was also aware of the situation’s implications, as we were related by blood, and our actions posed a considerable ethical and moral dilemma.

Aunt Maggie sensed my worry and understandingly took my hand, looking deep into my eyes, saying that what we feel for each other is not something that could be easily consummated and that she understood my fear. She went on to say that we could take it slow and enjoy each other’s business without the only focus being that of an intimate nature.

The next several days gave us ample time to contemplate our situation and each other’s place in our lives. We started off by building a solid foundation of trust and understanding, learning each other’s strengths and shortcomings, and creating an unshakable bond that went way beyond anything that sex could satisfy.

We did everything together, watched movies, went for long drives, watched sunsets, and reminisced on past memories, creating new ones. We were each other’s solace and support, confidants who would not judge and whose only aim was to make the other person happy. Our relationship had evolved from mere physical attraction to something concrete, with the foundation grounded in trust, understanding, and mutual respect.

Years later, when Aunt Margaret finally succumbed to cancer, we parted methods with a tearful farewell and the knowledge that we had both shared something unique and special. Even now, I reminisce about those passionate days with Aunt Margaret, and although I was never in favor of committing any family member with such an act, I have come to realize that my experience was not one meant for anything other than immemorial memories and not to be consumed by guilt and judgment.
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