Wintergor. part 3
My sobbing into the mattress didn't soften Ira at all; on the contrary, it angered her. She started calling me names and scolding me for being a crybaby and a weakling, saying I would now have to lick her off always and everywhere. Sasha, meanwhile, was still smacking his lips at her.
"Enough! Here's the T-shirt," Ira took the T-shirt she had just used to wipe her pussy and handed it to me, "wipe your face. We're still going out with you today, and you're all red as a lobster. Go wash up," she commanded, and I went to the bathroom, which was connected to their toilet.
When I approached the bathroom, their mother—Aunt Marina—came out of it.
"Hello. What's wrong with you? Why are you crying? Did you fight with Sashka? What happened?" questions poured from her. At that moment, Ira came out of Sashka's room and joined the conversation.
"Lost his virginity," she said with a smirk, "that's why he's sorry, that's why he's crying," Ira continued to smirk as she walked to her room, "come to me later," she addressed me, "I'm waiting for you." At these words, my body seemed to shrink and tremble a little, and I, silently sniffling, tried to get past Aunt Marina and go into the bathroom, but she took me by the shoulders, pressed me slightly to herself, stroking my back, and said:
"Poor boy, now you're a man!"
"Not quite," we heard Ira's voice from behind the door, "well, what are you doing there, fondling her tits? Come on, hurry up," she shouted a bit in my direction, "I'm waiting for you."
"Are you afraid of her or what?" Aunt Marina asked, pushing me back to arm's length but still holding my shoulders, "is she forcing you?" I nodded affirmatively to Aunt Marina, feeling some kind of protection and warmth from her.
"Oh, you poor thing," she pressed me to herself again, "what an insatiable slut—Ira, you bitch, leave the boy alone," she shouted towards Ira's room and led me to her room without letting me wash up, "come on, don't be afraid of her, she won't touch you anymore."
"Well, Ma," Ira shouted discontentedly from the room, "he's mine," she had already jumped out and tried to grab me with her hand and take me away like her prey, but Aunt Marina pushed me into the room and shielded me from Ira with her chest, leaving me in the room, she went out, closing the door to talk to Ira. They started arguing loudly and even shouting at each other, their voices moved away, and I realized they had gone to the kitchen or Ira's room. I could only hear fragments of phrases where Aunt Marina stood up for me and scolded her, but Ira wasn't very afraid of her mother and argued with her in a raised tone too. Their voices gradually subsided and turned into a normal conversation, and I couldn't make out anything at all, and then it completely died down, and it seemed to me they had switched to whispering altogether. I was shaking all over and didn't want to leave Aunt Marina's room; here I felt protected. Aunt Marina returned alone without Ira, in her hands was an opened bottle of port wine (back then it was either port wine, vodka, or moonshine).
"Ira told me everything about you," Aunt Marina said, sitting down next to me on the sofa, "and it turns out you're quite the rascal," she continued with a smile, pouring port wine into a glass, "here, drink," she handed me half a glass of wine, "drink, calm down," Aunt Marina spoke kindly. I took it and, exhaling, drank it in one gulp, handing the glass back to her; she took the glass, poured some for herself, and drank it with the words: "To you."
"Why are you so worried?" she started a conversation with me, putting her arm around my shoulders, "you see, for you guys, this is considered a disgrace," she looked into my eyes a little and continued, "for grown men, it's a normal thing," she ruffled my hair, "and besides licking Ira off, have you licked anyone else?" she asked me as if it were about something mundane.
"No," I shook my head, "I haven't," for some reason I wanted to complain to her about Ira, "she herself," I continued, "she herself, I didn't even lick," tears appeared in my eyes again, and Aunt Marina pressed me to herself again. My head ended up on her shoulder; she stroked my back and continued:
"Did she force you, bunny, or something? She told me you came to her yourself."
"No," pulling away from her shoulder, I continued to convince Aunt Marina that I wasn't to blame and that I wasn't a pussy-licker, it was so easy with her, and the port wine was starting to take effect a little, "Aunt Marina, I came to see Sanka," I began to tell my version, "and then she just pounced, but I dodged," I continued to excuse myself from what happened. At that moment, Aunt Marina handed me another half glass of wine, and I emptied it in one gulp again.
"And then she," now quite emboldened, I continued my story, "pinned my hands and—" here I hesitated a little, searching for what to say next.
"Well, in short, you didn't lick of your own free will," Aunt Marina helped me get out of it.
"Yes," I nodded, already a little drunk.
"Bad," suddenly I heard Aunt Marina, who shook her head disapprovingly, "you see, if a man licks on his own, that's one thing, but if he's forced to lick, that's another; in short, you're either a man or a pussy-licker," Aunt Marina continued to look at me reproachfully.
I silently looked at her and waited for some miracle.
"So, who are you?" Aunt Marina asked me a question and, without waiting for an answer, continued, "who do you want to be? A man?" Aunt Marina looked intently at me, and from her face, it was clear I had to agree with her. I nodded affirmatively.
"My dear bunny," she smiled, took my cheeks in both hands, and pressed her lips to mine; her tongue penetrated my mouth and began to play with my tongue; I reciprocated, even though it was my first kiss. I remember that kiss to this day; it was a miracle; I had probably never felt so good; I wanted to squeal with the high of that kiss; life seemed to bloom with different colors; my humiliated ego soared rapidly upward, because if Aunt Marina didn't disdain kissing me, then what she said must be true, and everything wasn't so bad after all. I completely forgot about Ira, who was somewhere in this apartment and probably waiting for me; I now had the wonderful, best Aunt Marina in the world. She lifted her chin, and I happily began to cover her neck with kisses; she hugged me and, holding me a little, began to lean back, pulling me with her.
I continued to kiss her; my dick got hard and pressed against the closed fly; it felt the pleasant stroking of Aunt Marina's hand; then her hand penetrated my pants and began to massage it—"kiss my titty," Aunt Marina whispered in my ear. With my hands, I unbuttoned the button on her robe and saw magnificent third-size breasts and a large brown nipple—"suck it gently, bunny," Aunt Marina whispered; I latched onto it like a hungry calf and began to suck (I didn't know what to do, so I decided to suck the titty).
"Oooh, that's good, bunny, take off your pants quickly, I want you, dear," Aunt Marina was now lying completely on the sofa and, throwing a leg over me, spread them wide; to my surprise, she already had no panties on; her pussy was very overgrown, and the pussy itself was completely invisible.
I quickly unbuttoned the fly, belt, and, pulling down my pants, climbed between her legs. Aunt Marina smiled into my eyes—"come on, bunny, become a man"—and pulled me to her by the hand; we merged in a kiss again, and her hand guided my dick into her womb. I again felt like a Casanova and began to move my hips in time with Aunt Marina's hips; she writhed beneath me, moaned and gasped, throwing her head back, and with her hands grabbed the sheet and clenched it; my happiness knew no bounds. I discharged with a powerful shot into the sheet, jerking my dick with my hand, after which, satisfied, I lay down opposite Aunt Marina (head to foot). I lay looking at the ceiling and was on cloud nine with happiness.
"Bunny, you're super," I heard Aunt Marina's voice, "will you stay with me tonight? Otherwise, that bitch is probably waiting for you."
Then I suddenly returned to reality, remembering that behind the door, Ira was waiting for me. I really didn't want to leave my refuge, and I answered Aunt Marina:
"Yes, I'll stay, of course."
"Super! Bunny," Aunt Marina whispered, "super!"
"Pour me and yourself some too," Aunt Marina hinted at the wine; I roughly divided it equally, poured some for Aunt Marina, and then drank the rest myself. I felt like an alpha male with her.
"Auntie is not quite satisfied," Aunt Marina said in a slightly offended, playful voice, leaning back again and spreading her legs wide, "come on, bunny, come to me," Aunt Marina said in a pleading voice, patting and stroking her pussy.
"I can't yet," I replied, looking at my still quite limp dick, "need to wait a bit," I playfully made eyes at Aunt Marina.
"I don't understand," she looked at me questioningly, raising one eyebrow.
From her facial expression, I immediately understood what she wanted from me now, and my world spun around again in an instant; just a moment ago, I was the happiest person in the universe, and now this truly beautiful woman was offering me to lick her pussy. After licking Ira's terrible pussy, I didn't want to engage my lips with a pussy again, with anyone's, and even Aunt Marina's pussy was now disgusting to me; to be honest, I thought that after fucking her, she would be my protector from Ira and wouldn't let me eat pussy, and now she herself was offering me this indecent activity. Of course, I remembered her words about a man and a pussy-licker; I also remembered that behind the door, Ira was lying in wait for me with not very rosy prospects, and here lay Aunt Marina with her legs spread wide, offering me to lick her pussy, which was just as scary as Ira's (maybe even scarier).