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Summary: Hot lesbian aunt seduces her nerdy, sweet virgin niece, then later they have sex while speaking to the niece’s oblivious mother on the phone.
Note 1: This was inspired by an idea on Literotica’s Story Thread idea ‘Mom on the phone with husband’, although it went a completely different way (with this phone conversation being between sisters). Maybe my next phone story will be a mom and son… actually, it probably will be.
Note 2: It was also very vaguely inspired by a Girlsway video called ‘Nice Family Call’, as I imagined a backstory of how that scene came to happen.
Note 3: This may be the beginning of some individual stories over the next few years that include phones. I find those often really hot on video, although they’re a tad more difficult to write than to watch.
Note 4: Thanks to Tex Beethoven, Robert, and Wayne for editing.
On the Phone: Seducing my Niece
“You sure it won’t be too much?” Angela, my sister, asked.
“God, no,” I answered. “Sarah is such a sweetheart, and her living with me will be way better for her than the dorms.”
“I just know how busy you are,” she prevaricated.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to do it.”
“I figured the dorms may help her come out of her shell.”
“I agree Sarah is a bit of a recluse,” I allowed, remembering my adorable niece growing up. Even back in grade school whenever her friends were out playing hopscotch or tag, she’d be indoors with her nose buried in a book. Or if she was feeling particularly expansive, sitting under a tree with a book. But now having graduated top of her class from high school she’d gotten a full ride to Harvard, the same school where I was a psychology professor, although I’d had no influence either on her getting in or the scholarship. Those were solely because of her own academics and volunteerism. “But I know I can help her get out of her shell.”
“You always were the outgoing one,” Angela said, her daughter a lot like her. We were both academically gifted, both of us graduating from Harvard. I had majored in psychology and my sister had majored in law. She’d worked her ass off, I’d partied pretty hard.
Yet we both graduated with distinction and ended up in our dream jobs. She was now a District Attorney in New York, I was a professor at Harvard, as already mentioned.
Angela had married and had two kids. In addition to Sarah, she had a son who was a year younger, and had gotten his dad’s athletic ability and less of our academics.
I, on the other hand, explored my sexuality, eventually accepting I was mostly a lesbian (but still enjoyed a nice cock once in a while). I also accepted that I really liked younger girls and I often had a few at my beck and call who would come to my home and please me at a moment’s notice.
Occasionally I ended up with a submissive student between my legs from Harvard, but more times than not it was a sweet eighteen-year-old eager to crawl between my legs, like at this moment, the cute Elizabeth, a senior at a nearby Catholic all-girls school, who was eagerly lapping away as I chatted with my sister.
I agreed, “I’m still very outgoing.”
“Well, hopefully you can open up my Sarah to some new horizons,” my sister urged me. “She needs to do more than just study.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” I pledged, already contemplating turning her into my live-in cunt-licking pet. I’d never committed incest myself, but I’d played with a mother-daughter pair on a few occasions and had enjoyed watching them in a sweet 69. I added, as my hand went to the back of Elizabeth’s head, “I’ll be sure to push her boundaries.”
“Please do,” she said, unaware she was giving me permission to turn her sweet, shy daughter into a cunt muncher.
“Oh, I promise,” I reaffirmed, as I was getting close to orgasm from both the eager teen tongue as well as the idea of turning my niece.
“Thanks, sis,” she said, before we began chatting about our upcoming family reunion.
I did a lot of absent minded hmm-hmmming, as my orgasm rose and exploded on the teen’s cute face before we hung up, me always getting a rush from having a secret orgasm while talking to someone.
I mean I’ve had orgasms while talking on the phone to my mom, dad, sister, grandma and friends many times. I’ve even had a girl under my desk on a few occasions while I chatted with other clueless students in the same room, and even once given a lecture on Skype to a group of students in Norway, while being licked the entire time.
Everyone has a secret kink or fetish… mine is coming on the phone… it’s the ultimate rush, followed by an inevitable gush. (Now there’s a cute poetic couplet to end this Shakespearean soliloquy, don’t you think?)
Elizabeth asked after she finished licking up my cum and once I’d hung up, “You’re going to seduce your niece just as you did me, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” I shrugged.
“That is so hot,” she said, her lips and chin glistening with ataşehir escort my cum.
“You think so?” I asked, always surprised how the shy ones almost without fail became the nastiest little sluts.
“I’d love to seduce my aunt,” she said.
“Seduce her, or become her little cunt licking pet?” I questioned, as I pushed her onto her back.
“Can’t I do both?” she asked, “you almost do that yourself: you summon me over here in your Mistress persona so I can get you off, but you don’t hesitate to do whatever I need when it’s your turn to make me happy.” I had to agree that she had a point. Unlike most Mistresses, I enjoyed getting as good as I gave, loving it when my pets ordered me around and called me filthy names while I buried my face in their wetness and got them off. I was pretty much demonstrating her point as I spread her legs, gliding my hands up and down her nylon-clad legs. I expected all my pets… and myself… to be in nylons at all times as a symbol of obedience, even though in my case I was being obedient to my own rules… fair was fair. My other fetish was sheer silk stockings… I loved the feel of them both on myself or another girl, and I also loved how they accentuated my legs and almost any outfit.
“Well of course, my little schoolgirl slut,” I purred, as I spread her legs and she raised her ass and hiked up her plaid skirt. “Does she live in the city?”
“A town an hour away,” she answered, as I lowered myself between her legs.
“Well, maybe we need to turn your fantasy into a reality,” I said using ‘turn’ in both senses of the word, before I began licking her teen twat as eagerly as she’d done for me.
Now I should note, I’m sometimes called a Mistress, but more precisely I’m a seductress. In other words, I love turning straight girls and having them get their first taste of pussy between my legs, but I also enjoy the sweet nectar of a woman’s loins, and like I said, to give as much as I get. I’ve never understood a woman who just gives or just gets. Who just dominates or submits. I want both, although I do tend more towards the dominant. When I do submit to a pet which I do often, it’s always by my own choice, not hers.
“You’ll help?” she asked, delightedly surprised, as I parted her pussy lips.
“Of course,” I said, not sure how we would make that a reality, but always up for a challenge, especially if it resulted in some sort of incestuous lesbian rendezvous.
Ten minutes later, I was lapping up Elizabeth’s cunt cum.
A month later I was watching Elizabeth and her aunt in a 69, but that’s a story for another time.
Because a month after that, Sarah moved into my house.
I’m not going to lie, seducing someone comes as natural to me as riding a bike, yet when it came to Sarah I was, for the first time I can remember, a bit unsure.
Normally if a seduction went wrong, which was rare but it did happen, there were no significant consequences. It just meant I needed to text one of my many pets to come over and get me off.
However if this seduction went wrong, it would have dire consequences.
Nevertheless, I knew Sarah needed this.
She was so high-strung I thought she might snap one day.
No one needed to get laid more urgently than Sarah.
She was so dedicated to her studies, she’d already read all eight novels for both of her upcoming English classes, as well as all her first semester textbooks, yet somehow she still felt unprepared for the first day of school.
I tried to relax her by giving her a day at the spa that included a sly makeover. Although she protested at first, she’d never even had a pedicure never mind a massage, she ended up enjoying the day. She got her nails done and painted, and she got a new hairdo that was far more becoming than the bun she favoured.
I also took her clothes shopping, where I got her some fashionable clothing. As she was in the change room trying on a dress I’d told her she needed for the welcoming day meet and greet, I rapped on the door and ordered, “Let me in.”
She protested, but I insisted, and she let me in… her natural submissive persona giving in to me, a trait I planned to use against her (but really for her) quite frequently.
She was standing there just in her bra and panties. I sighed, looking at her grandma panties and sports bra, “Honey, it’s obvious we need to go undergarment shopping too.”
“They’re comfortable,” she objected defensively, looking completely uncomfortable under my bold gaze.
“I imagine they are,” I nodded, “but a sports bra is a terrible look for your breasts except when you’re playing sports.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Really,” I nodded, “and although your underwear may be comfortable, you really need something a little sexier.”
“Because it will help with your self-confidence,” I explained.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re confident in the classroom, right?”
“How about at a dance or a party?” I asked.
“I don’t go to either of those.”
“Sarah, life is kadıköy escort about more than learning,” I expounded, “it’s also about living.”
“Says the Harvard professor,” she retorted, using just a tad of sarcasm.
“There you go,” I approved, no doubt surprising her. “Show some vehemence. Assert yourself. And if you ever take any of my classes you will learn that life is a balance, and to be successful, you need to find the right balance.”
“I figure I can do that after I graduate,” she said.
“In seven years after you get your Master’s?” I laughed. “You’ll stress yourself into a breakdown long before then.”
“Auntie!” she protested.
“I’m serious,” I said. “The brain and the body are interconnected, and you need to look after both.”
“I work out every day,” she said, still on the defensive.
“I can see that,” I kept her off balance by unpredictably conceding some of her points, not letting her turn this into an argument, and at the moment obviously checking out her body, which was very tight. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Why not?” she said. “I’m already standing here half naked in front of you, so I don’t have many secrets.”
I laughed. “True enough. When was the last time you had sex?”
“Auntie!” she gasped, that not being the kind of personal question she was expecting.
“I’m serious,” I said, pushing on. “Connection and orgasms are critical to your personal well-being.”
There was a long silence while her face turned as red as a tomato. “Auntie, this is so awkward,” she finally mumbled, not meeting my eyes.
“Has your mother never talked to you about your needs?” I asked, knowing full well there was no way she ever had.
“God, no!” she said sounding mortified by the idea.
“Having sex in a stress-free environment at least three times a week will make you look up to ten years younger,” I informed her, quoting from an actual scientific study.
She joked, surprising me, “Is that why you look so much younger than mom?”
I laughed, deciding to plant a seed, “I’m more of ‘an orgasm a day keeps the doctor away’ type of girl.”
“Auntie!” she gasped again, but this time laughing.
“At your age, you should be having orgasms all the time,” I persevered, “Orgasms also relieve stress by giving you deep relaxation by boosting endorphin levels and flushing excess cortisol out of the body.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding intrigued by my learned discourse on the benefits of getting off.
“And you my dear, are almost always stressed, right?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Only when I’m awake,” she joked.
“I’ll bet you’re even stressed in your dreams,” I teased.
“Maybe,” she laughed awkwardly.
“There are tons of reasons to have sex regularly,” I continued, bombarding her with information. “It helps the circulation to your organs, helps you grow healthy tissues, and even regulates your menstrual cycle.”
“Mine is always unpredictable,” she admitted.
“Then come more often,” I said bluntly.
“Auntie!” she repeated.
“What? I’m serious. Regular orgasms help control your mood through lymphatic massage, help against heart disease through healthy estrogen, spike DHEA levels which improve brain function, promote healthy skin and balance your immune system,” I continued, before adding, “they would also help your complexion for sure.”
“Sex would help with my zits?” she asked, looking stunned.
“Yep,” I nodded, “it also helps cure migraines, and increases the hormone oxytocin, which helps with one’s social skills, and especially relevant to your case, the surge of oxytocin, often called the ‘cuddle hormone’, can help to greatly reduce stress.”
“Cuddle hormone?” she doubted.
“I didn’t name it,” I shrugged, before adding, “I also need to tell you that you demonstrate a lot of the signs of orgasm denial.”
“Auntie!” she repeated like a parrot.
“Stress, restlessness, you haven’t stopped shifting from foot to foot since I walked in here, and I’m guessing you also don’t sleep very well, do you?” I concluded.
“No, you’re right, I don’t,” she agreed, seeming to begin to understand my overall point.
I then added, with a smile, “Plus… a good fucking and orgasm burns a lot of calories, is a full workout, and best of all, an orgasm feels fucking amazing.”
“Auntie!” she repeated.
“Way better than a treadmill,” I shrugged.
“This whole conversation is so weird,” she said.
I asked again, taking both her hands in mine, “So back to my question: when was the last time you had sex?”
She looked down, obviously feeling sheepish, “Never.”
“Like never, never?” I shrieked (sotto voce however, we were still within audible range of other people), acting shocked, although in truth not at all surprised by her answer.
“No, never,” she admitted.
“Masturbation?” I asked.
“Afraid not,” she whispered so softly I could barely hear her from a foot away.
“You’ve never jilled off?” I asked, and this time I was truly shocked.
“I’m bostancı escort sorry, never,” she affirmed, still in a breathless whisper.
“Well, that explains pretty much everything,” I opined.
“What?” she asked, looking hurt.
“Nothing bad,” I said. “It’s just that your mind is inadvertently hurting your body.”
“Really?” she asked.
“A hundred percent,” I nodded.
We must have stood there looking into each other’s eyes for at least two long minutes, her silently repeating her question ‘Really?’ while I continually replied just as silently, ‘Absolutely.’
“Try on the dress and I’ll be right back with a few items,” I broke the silence. “Your makeover is officially underway.”
“Auntie, we don’t have to…” she began, but I cut her off.
“Oh yes we do,” I interrupted. I then shocked her as I cupped her eighteen-year-old breasts and asked, “34B?”
“Um, yeah,” she said in a daze.
I removed my hands and added earnestly, “You are a beautiful young woman, and you need to discover another side of yourself.”
“Which side is that?” she asked.
As I stepped through the door I tossed off over my shoulder, “Your sexual side.”
“Oh,” she said again in a whisper, as I closed the door.
I went and grabbed a pair of black thigh high stockings, a black pair of bikini panties and a matching bra. I returned to find her wearing the dress.
“Beautiful,” I approved. “But we need to see you wearing it with nylons.”
“I hate pantyhose,” she objected. “Plus, they’re kind of for old people.”
“That is the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me,” I gasped mockingly, as I was wearing some at the moment… although mine were the much-preferred thigh highs.
“They’re just so uncomfortable,” she insisted.
“Trust me and sit down,” I urged, as I guided her to sit on the bench. “These are going to change your life.”
I dropped to my knees and opened the package.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Like I just said, changing your life,” I answered, as I rolled a stocking up and placed it on her foot.
“This is so weird,” she said.
“Shhhhhh,” I said. “Trust me.”
“Okay,” she agreed, once again her submissive persona coming through for me.
I rolled it up her leg, reaching way up beneath her dress to finish rolling the thigh high into place.
“What are these?” she asked.
“Thigh high stockings,” I said. “I hate pantyhose too. But sheer thigh high stockings on the other hand, are comfortable and super sexy.”
She moved her hand to her leg as I held it straight out. “Oh my.”
“These are quality stockings,” I said, as I let her leg drop back down and did her other stocking.
Once that too was on, I ordered, “Stand up.”
“Very nice,” I approved. “But I want you to see in the new lingerie I picked up for you.”
“Okay,” she said, as I began to remove her dress. “I can do this for myself.”
I joked, “Nope. Today you’re my Barbie.”
“Okay,” she agreed submissively, as I draped the dress across the bench.
“You know, behind those unflattering sweatshirts and jeans, you have a nice tight young body, Sarah,” I complimented, already imagining fucking it with one of my strap-ons.
“Really?” she asked, revealing her major insecurity.
“Sarah,” I told her as I unclasped her bra, “seriously, you’re a hot little number.”
“Auntie,” she giggled awkwardly.
“I’m serious,” I said, as I turned her around and checked out her tits. “You have a perfect pair of tits, with nice inviting nipples.”
“I’ve always thought they were too small,” she demurred.
“Nope, they’re the perfect size,” I corrected her as I cupped them again. “A perfect handful. Much bigger and they’d be awkward and a pain to walk around with.”
Her body shivered as I added, drawing her hands to my own breasts which were quite large, “Trust me, these 38DDs are a huge pain most of the time.”
Her eyes went wide.
After a moment I moved my hands to her hips and pulled her panties down before she even knew what was happening, as I got a brief look at her hairy pussy and a slight damp spot on her panties… which confirmed that my sex dissertation and my subtle (and not so subtle) touches were doing just what I wanted them to do.
She let out another gasp of shock, but didn’t say anything.
I resisted the temptation to bury my face in her wet pussy, her scent wafting just enough to tease me, as I stood back up and ordered her to, “Look in the mirror.”
“See how the thigh highs enhance your legs?” I asked.
“They do,” she nodded, staring at herself with a slight shock.
“Now put on this bra and panties set.”
She put them on and I ordered her again, “Look at yourself now.”
“Notice how the bra supports your breasts perfectly and enhances their shape,” I pointed out. “Before, your bra was flattening them.”
“Yeah, this is way better than my sports bra,” she admitted, “they look great.”
“Sports bras are called that for a functional reason,” I said.
“I guess,” she said, admiring her body in the mirror, something I imagine she’d never done in a positive way before this moment.
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