When I was a boy, around the age of 11 or so, I used to visit my maiden great-aunt Gladys, who lived nearby. She would have been about 60 years old at the time.

I enjoyed my visits for two reason. First, aunt Gladys would feed me on the most wonderful home-made fruit cake. Second, I would get fantastic views up her dress as she relaxed in her armchair. Of course, at that age I had no practical sexual experience to speak of - I’d only recently discovered the pleasures of wanking – but, like all boys, I always enjoyed a surreptitious glimpse of knickers or stockings. Aunt Gladys wore floral print dresses that buttoned all the way up the front. The neckline was low enough just to show the start of the cleavage in her very ample bosom, and the hem came just below her knees. Underneath, she wore a full slip with broad lacy edging, a bra, stockings and old-fashioned pink bloomers that covered half her thighs. This much was easy to find out but what intrigued me was how her stocking were held up. I couldn’t see any suspenders because of her bloomers. Then, one day, I sneaked a peek through the keyhole when she went to the bathroom and my question was answered. She wore a girdle with six stout suspenders holding up her stockings. Knowing all this, aunt Gladys was frequently the object of my fantasy while I wanked.

One day it rained heavily on my way to see her. When I arrived I was soaked to the skin. Aunt Gladys said I would have to get out of my wet clothes so she could dry them off. She took me upstairs and, collecting some towels from the bathroom, she told me to undress while she found me a bath robe. I’d stripped down to my underpants and she sat on the edge of the bed drying me with the towel. She didn’t want to get her dress all wet, so she had it pulled half way up her thighs. I could see those beautiful bloomers clearly and I was struggling to stop my cock from getting hard. Then aunt Gladys helped me on with the robe but said I’d have to take my underpants off because they were soaked too. She sensed I was reluctant and said, “Don’t be silly. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before”, and with that, she put her thumbs in my waistband and slid my underpants down.

As she started to towel me between my legs, I couldn’t help getting a bit hard. At first aunt Gladys carried on as if nothing was happening but it quickly got to the point where she couldn’t fail to see my cock growing. “My, my!”, she said, “What’s causing that, I wonder?” I didn’t know what to say but aunt Gladys hitched her dress a bit higher and parted her legs so I could get an even better view of those bloomers and her gusset. My cock immediately came to full attention! “And I wonder what ought to be done about it?”, she said, gently taking hold of it. “I’ve often noticed you looking up my dress”, she said. “There’s no need to ask if you like what you see.” She smiled as she gave my cock a few short strokes, just teasing the foreskin back.

Pulling me by the dick towards her, she had me lie down on the bed and, still sitting on the edge, she started to wank me properly. All the time I was transfixed by the sight of her, with her dress now pulled up shamelessly around her waist, showing off those bloomers in all their glory. “You can touch if you want to”, she said. I ran a tentative hand over her thigh, feeling the suspenders through the leg of her bloomers. After a few minutes, letting go of me momentarily, she stood up and pulled her bloomers down, stepping out of them. Then she sat back down and started to wank me again. I was stunned at the sight of her in her girdle, with those suspenders pulling her stocking tops so tight.

My hand returned to her thigh and this time found its way over her stocking tops, along a suspender to the hem of her girdle and down between her legs. I was a little shocked at the feel of her lightly furred pussy - I hadn’t expected it. Most of the pictures I’d seen in glamour books had the photos retouched so there was no pussy hair (this was the late 1950s). My finger found its way to her slit and easily sank in because she was so moist – another surprise for an inexperienced boy. All this time, aunt Gladys had been wanking me steadily and, just as my finger found its way into her juicy chasm, my cock erupted in a shower of boyish spunk. “Oh dear!”, said aunt Gladys, “Now I’ll have to clean you up again, you naughty boy.”

She wiped all my spunk away with the towel. Then, gazing at my now deflated cock she said, “Well, that seems to have done the trick. If you get that problem again, just come and see your aunt Gladys and let her sort it out.” In fact, my clothes still hadn’t quite dried before I had a relapse and my delightful aunt had to minister to me yet again – this time offering me a choice view and taste of her wonderful tits. That was one visit that I’ll always remember. Although it’s been a lot of years since, and aunt Gladys is no longer with us, I still think fondly of her every time it rains.