In my twisted daydreams, I envision a fictional character who assumes the role of my aunt. She becomes this complex woman who subtly pursues me, dropping hints and doing her best to be close to me. From enchanting romantic outings to captivating opera dates, she insists that each night was the most incredible experience of her life. Despite being my aunt, she urges me to imagine a different dynamic between us. She asks, "If I weren't your aunt, what would you do with me?"
And in this fantasy, things escalate as we explore physical intimacy through touches, kisses, and perhaps even more.
During Christmas, she surprises me with an invitation to a secluded cabin, encouraging me to escape from my parents and enjoy the solitude. It's like having my own private space! But as night falls, she appears and starts living with me. I wake up to find her wearing a sheer dress, and during the day, she tantalizes me with her alluring outfits. At night, she sits beside me, reading stories while dressed provocatively. Maybe, if the mood strikes her after sipping some wine, she uses it as an excuse to pleasure me orally.
I have a fondness for aunts, unlike the common preference for mothers or grandmothers. Cousins are also not in the picture. There is something about aunts that intrigues me. Perhaps it is because engaging in intimate relations with them seems less messed up than with one's mother, yet still more messed up than with cousins.
