Aunt Theresa’s Christmas Wish (F35/M18)

My mom was the eldest of five. Jill (that’s Mom), Uncle Ian, Aunt Annie, Uncle Nick and Aunt Theresa. The cousins and I used the acronym JIANT to remember the order, and we’d always sound it out at family reunions and holidays, our aunts and uncles gamely standing up or pointing to themselves when their letter was called.

“It’s a good thing Mom and Dad had their little accident,” Mom used to say, cruelly, about her sister Theresa, who came unexpectedly when Mom was 10. “You kids would never remember JIAN.”

As the years rolled by, family holidays became fewer and fewer. Kids grew up, had their own schedules. But Christmas was always at grandma’s house. Every year, we’d all descend on the ancestral Nelson family home, getting together with our aunts and uncles and cousins to exchange gifts, play games and watch Home Alone movies.

One year, I noticed someone was missing.

“Mom,” I asked. “Where’s Aunt Theresa?”

“Not coming,” she said. “I think the holidays are hard for her, Tommy.”

Aunt Theresa had been married a few times, each one shorter than the last (I don’t think I’d even met her third husband), and had no kids of her own. I guess it made sense that Christmas might be tough, seeing her siblings and their happy families, surrounded by nieces and nephews. I figured she was jealous. I came to resent her.

Grandma died my first year of college, and I saw Aunt Theresa at the funeral. She was 35 by then, thrice-divorced, but I was shocked by how little she had changed in the five years since I’d seen her last. She’d colored her hair a little, her dark brown hair with subtle streaks of blonde and red, but she didn’t look a day over 30. I guess it hadn’t been as long for her as it seemed for me. 13 to 18 was a bigger leap than 30 to 35.

“Theresa’s dress,” Mom said, whispering a little too loudly into Dad’s ear. “So inappropriate.”

I didn’t think it was so inappropriate. I guess it was a little short, falling just beneath mid-thigh, and I guess you could have seen her cleavage behind the sheer fabric that covered it up. But it was black. It was long-sleeved. It seemed suitably mournful to my 18-year-old eyes.

I figured Mom was just jealous of her body. Aunt Theresa could’ve passed for 20s. Mom looked every bit the 45-year-old in her black frock.

Dad just grunted his assent. I wondered what he really thought.

The funeral was an opportunity to make amends, it turned out. Mom was the new Queen Bee of the family, and she told Theresa to stop avoiding everyone, to come back to Christmas. Our house was big enough to host, and the other JIANTs had already agreed to come.

“It’s not like she has other Christmas plans,” mom said on the ride home from the cemetery.

Christmas was a little strange without grandma, but it was nice to do it at our own house for a change. As the cousins arrived, we made a beeline to the basement where we played Smash Brothers and Mario Party. I was the eldest, and so I usually won. With a half year of college at my back, I was feeling really old compared to my cousins. And soon I snuck upstairs to hang with the grown ups.

That’s when I saw Theresa again. She had worn a red turtleneck and a short black skirt, her narrow waist cinched with a big, leather belt, those red and blonde highlights gone, her hair dyed a shade or two darker. She looked incredible, and I tried to remember if her chest had always been that big, that perfectly-shaped. I couldn’t understand why a woman as good-looking as that couldn’t keep a man. Any man would’ve had her, I thought.

Dad agreed to let me have some wine, even though I wasn’t 21 yet, and I sipped glass after glass of red as I told my aunts and uncles about college. My classes. My friends.

“What about girls, Tommy?” Theresa asked, swirling Cabernet in her glass. “Good looking guy like you probably has them barking at your door day and night.”

“Barking?” Mom asked, rolling her eyes.

“You know how college girls can get,” Theresa said, winking.

Dinner meant more wine. Dessert meant more wine. Soon, I was feeling pretty tipsy, and put my glass aside to do a jigsaw puzzle with Mom and Aunt Annie in the living room. I watched Theresa out of the corner of my eye, sipping wine and doing something on her phone.

By midnight, the cousins had all gone to bed, and even some of the adults had retired. I brought my two presents for Mom and Dad downstairs and put them under the tree, while JIAN organized their own into neat piles. Theresa kept drinking wine alone at the kitchen table.

“Merry Christmas, Tommy!” Mom said, giving me a big hug and yawning. “I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t stay up too late.“

The adults climbed the stairs. I poured myself another glass of red, and sat down beside Theresa.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

Theresa locked her phone and placed it face down on the table.

“Just catching up with some friends,” she said, smiling. Her teeth and lips were marked with wine, her speech as slow as mine. “Season’s greetings, and all. But why don’t we catch up? Now that the grown-ups are all gone.”

“You’re a grown-up,” I said, sipping my glass, hoping I sounded mature. “I’m a grown-up now, too, you know. I’m an adult.”

“I can see that,” Theresa said, grazing my bicep with her fingers. “So what’s the real scoop at college? You fucking anybody?”

I nearly spat.

“College is the best,” she continues, leaning back in the chair, her red turtleneck stretching over her chest. “You have to make the most of it. You’ll never have that kind of freedom again. Marriage. Kids.”

“You never had kids,” I said, regretting it instantly, worrying I’d touched a nerve.

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “I guess I never gave up my freedom, did I?”

We sat there for an awkward few seconds, and I wished she would change the subject.

“You know,” she said. “Your mom was bragging about that hot tub you have outside. I was waiting for everyone to go to bed so I might take a dip. But seeing as you’re still up, why don’t you join? You can show me how to work the controls.”

I was feeling pretty drunk by then, and the thought of seeing Aunt Theresa in a swimsuit sounded pretty good to me.

“Ok,” I said. “Let me go get my trunks.”

Theresa waved her hand.

“Who needs em,” she said. “I didn’t bring a suit.”

“But we…”

“I can keep a secret if you can,” she said. “Besides. I wanna see what those college girls are working with.”

The night was cool as we walked across the yard, towels in our hand, breath crystallizing in the air. We dropped our towels on two chaise lounges, and I looked back at the house to confirm the upstairs lights were off before lifting the cover off the tub. The water rippled and steamed, and by the time I turned around, Theresa had her turtleneck off, standing and shivering in her black miniskirt and a lacy, red bra.

“Well don’t gawk at me, Tommy,” she said, unbuckling her belt and sliding her skirt down her legs, revealing the matching red panties she had on under. “It makes a girl feel self-conscious.”

I ripped my shirt over my head and dropped my khakis, shivering in my boxers myself, and I stepped down into the hot tub, feeling my skin tighten as the hot water hit my cold legs. Sinking down into the tub, I pushed and turned away, making sure I had a good view of Theresa as she entered.

But she didn’t enter. She just stood there in her red lingerie. It was hard to believe she wanted to wear that in the hot tub, but I didn’t say anything.

“You go swimming in your underwear?” She asked.

“Yeah…” I said. “You said you didn’t bring a suit.”

Theresa laughed.

“Oh, Tommy.”

I sat amazed as she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. The tension in the fabric collapsed and it fell away from her body, sliding down her arms and exposing her pale, white tits to the ghostly light reflecting off the hot tub. She placed the bra on top of her clothes, and then wiggled her panties down her hips and thighs, her dark bush drawing my eyes like magnets. I looked away as she stepped into the water, trying not to stare, her perfect body tugging at the edges of my attention as she slipped under the surface, my dick growing harder my the moment. I hoped she couldn’t tell.

“Ahhh,” she said. “Oh, that’s just heaven.”

The water slapped against the walls, and I turned the jets on, leaning against them and feeling them massage my back.

“There are, uh, more jets over here,” I said. “I could trade places.”

“No need.”

Theresa glided over to my side and sat beside me, leaning back and positioning herself around the jets. Her nipples rested just above the water’s surface, the little currents and eddies swirling around them as they bobbed.

“You ever fuck any of your girlfriends out here?”

I gulped.

“No,” I said. “I was a virgin until college.”

Theresa closed her eyes and let her legs float off the seat, her toes breaking the surface, her bush clearly visible in the pale, blue water.

“Why don’t you take your boxers off?” She said, her eyes still closed. “It feels a little strange to be the only one naked.”

She would see my boner, I realized. Oh well, I thought. I yanked my wet boxers off and threw them to the side of the tub, where they hit the pavers with a wet slap.

“What do you want for Christmas, Tommy?”

“Uh, I asked for a new phone.”

Theresa nodded. Her bush had breached the surface, now, and little drops of water clung to her pubic hairs.

“What, uh… what do you want for Christmas?”

I turned and saw that she had been watching me ogle her bush.

“I want a kiss,” she said, smiling beatifically. “Would you give your Aunt a kiss, Tommy?”

If I had been hard before, I was fit to burst, then. It was wrong, I knew. Wrong to ogle your aunt. Wrong to kiss your aunt. But she asked. She wanted it. And I obliged.

She tasted like peppermint and red wine, and her tongue felt luxurious in my mouth. She moaned softly, water lapping at her breasts, and climbed on top of my lap while we made out. I had to remember to breathe, I was feeling so light-headed. But I didn’t want it to stop. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her tight to me, feeling my cock pressing against her bush, feeling her squeeze her ass cheeks together as she bucked against me.

Finally, she reached under the water and grabbed my penis, squeezing it and giggling.

“This is so naughty,” she said. “Your mom would kill me.”

“She’d… she’d kill us both,” I said.

“No,” Theresa said. “Your Jill’s special boy. She could never be mad at you.”

I spread her ass under the water, kneading her soft flesh with my fingers. Theresa arched an eyebrow. I nodded. I lifted her up.

She guided me in.

We sighed in unison and looked past each other, cheek to cheek, as we fucked in the hot tub. Theresa’s pussy swallowed me whole, and while the water was warm, she was even warmer, slick and wet on the inside, grinding on me, swirling my dick at the base as we both grunted softly in the ghostly light, breath still crystallizing in the air above the tub.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna come,” I said. “Aunt Theresa…”

“Shh,” she said, grinding down harder. “Fill me up. Fill your Aunt Theresa up, Tommy.”

Had I not been so drunk, I might have pushed her off. Hell, I wouldn’t have been out there at all. But hearing my gorgeous aunt tell me to finish inside her sent me over the edge. I spammed and shuddered, my twitching cock held in place by her warm canal. By the time I stopped coming, we were kissing again, my spent cock twitching inside her with every circle of the tongue.

We dried off in silence, as if the spell had been broken. Tip-toeing into the house, wet clothes in hand, we parted ways with a chaste kiss on the cheek, her finger on my lips, a mysterious smile on hers.

My alarm clock was the sound of Christmas cheer the next morning, and I awoke with a pounding headache and the lurching sensation of a mistake just remembered. I had fucked my Aunt in my parents’ hot tub. Jesus Christ, I thought.

And on Jesus’s birthday, of all things.

Aunt Theresa was already seated on the couch, a coffee mug in hand and not a hair out of place as I entered the living room in my Christmas PJs. She smiled as if nothing had happened.

The cousins and I opened our presents. I had gotten my new iPhone, and hugged mom and dad, feeling a bit bashful that I’d gotten what I’d wanted after disrespecting them like that. Mom and Dad opened the presents I had gotten them, too. A college hat for Dad and a sweatshirt for Mom, so they could show everyone how proud they were of their college son. They put them on immediately, beaming.

“Oh, before I forget,” Mom said, walking over to the tree. She pulled out another gift and walked across the room, handing it to Theresa. “Didn’t want you going empty-handed.”

Theresa smiled, her eyebrows raised. She hadn’t expected a gift, I figured, shuddering again when I remember the gifts I’d given her in the hot tub.

Ripping the paper off, Theresa’s eyes widened again. Mom had gotten her a book, *The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.*

“It’s really interesting,” Mom said. “All kinds of tips and tricks for getting more out of life, being more successful. I thought you might like it.”

Theresa’s face was inscrutable. Curious, maybe. Offended, almost certainly.

“Thanks, Jill,” she said, smiling at me. “But I’m already highly effective.”