THE NEPHEW'S REVENGE

“Son… So it’s decided: you’re staying at your aunt Mary’s place for the month.”

That sentence hit me like a bullet to the skull.

“What?! Dad, you’re joking!”

“Listen, Tobi… I know she can be a bit difficult sometimes. She takes after your mother, you know? But we don’t have any other real option…”

“Dad, I can take care of the house by myself! I’m sixteen. I promise I won’t throw parties, won’t bring anyone over, but… for God’s sake, don’t send me to that bitch’s house.”

My father sighed, and I already knew that look—the one that meant his mind was made up and nothing would change it.

He sat at the edge of the kitchen table and barely lifted his eyes when he spoke.

“Tobi… you… you don’t have the maturity to look after the house. Remember the last time we tried? You… well, I don’t even need to say it, do I? My bed had a used condom, all sticky with… you know what. Seriously, you couldn’t fuck in your own room? On top of that you left the gas on. Almost poisoned yourself for real. I can’t trust you.”

“But Dad… I learned from my mistakes. I won’t do it again, I swear!”

“I’m sorry, son. But it’s already arranged. Mary can be a little strict sometimes, but a bit of discipline will do you good, you know?”

I froze. The coffee cup cooling in front of me. The old refrigerator’s hum seemed louder than his voice.

“No. Please, Dad. Think of something else—Grandma!”

“Your grandma lives three hours away. That’s not happening. And she spoils you too much.”

He raised an eyebrow, finally looking at me.

I felt the blood rise hot in my neck. Mary. Aunt Mary. That fucking whore, my mother’s sister, who had always treated me like some pathetic little shit even after I grew up. The same woman who looked at me with that crooked smile, lips painted red as embers, her cleavage always a little more open than necessary like she wanted attention at any cost—and then crushed me with unnecessary words.

I closed my eyes and the memories came all at once, like a flash of seconds condensed into years—filthy, heavy, as if someone had opened a basement door and let the rotten smell pour out.

The traumatic pool scene. At the time I was only thirteen. There was a family barbecue at our house with close friends. I went upstairs to change into swim shorts and head to the pool. And there she was… of all the rooms she could have chosen, she walked straight into mine.

“Ah… Tobi… Come in and close the door. If anyone walks by and sees this, you’re the one who’s going to get fucked—not me.”

I stepped in, more out of fear of the sudden threat.

She had her back to me, stripping, completely natural, as if my presence didn’t matter at all. She simply let her panties drop, revealing that pussy with short, trimmed blonde hair, like it was nothing. I tried to look away out of respect and obvious reasons, but instead I got an earful.

“Looking away, are you? You a little faggot or something? Scared of pussy?” she said, sharp, a soft mocking smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

“N-no, it’s just that you’re changing and—”

“So what? Not used to seeing a naked woman? Still a virgin by any chance?”

“…”

“How pathetic… I don’t bite, relax, you weakling. Besides, you’re not man enough to do anything to me. I’m safer than safe.”

That hurt. It was completely unnecessary.

She let the bra fall to the floor. Firm, full breasts, freckled, pink nipples, no surgical marks—incredible for someone her age, I had to admit. It almost felt like an insult to nature. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but according to age the body naturally softens, yet she seemed like an exception.

“Tobi, make yourself useful and tie the strap here.”

She turned her back, staring at me through the wardrobe mirror.

I stepped closer, still half trembling. I hated admitting it, but she was fucking hot. And no, I felt no guilt. I barely ever saw Aunt Mary. To me she was a stranger with the label “aunt.”

I felt my cock throb. It got so hard it hurt. And I saw it—I saw her gaze drop straight to my shorts in a cutting look.

I tried to tie the straps, but that body was throwing me off. The heat, her floral scent…

“Hurry up, kid. I don’t have all day.”

“A-aunt, just move back a little.”

She stepped back. I felt her ass brush lightly against the fabric of my shorts. My cock felt the heat of her cheeks. And I’m sure she felt it too. And the worst part… she didn’t even move. She stayed in that position until I finished. It almost seemed deliberate.

“That’ll do…”

That was all she said. Not even a dry “thank you.”

“Oh, and Tobi. I don’t even need to say it’s better if you don’t tell anyone what happened here. Otherwise things will get ugly for you. At least now you’ll jerk off thinking about a real pussy instead of some internet shit.” She laughed, mocking, and left the room, leaving me standing there.

Another time I was with my mother when I went to get the hammer to fix the door. She was by the pool, had just climbed out of the water, and her left breast had slipped free from the force of it. I ended up staring on reflex. She saw. She laughed.

“Want me to take the top off so you can get a better look?”

I turned my face away in shame and hurried past while a wicked smile stayed fixed on her face.

I won’t deny it… I really wanted to bury my hand in that blonde hair and yank until she screamed. Spread those legs and bury my cock deep in that pink pussy of hers. I genuinely couldn’t see Aunt Mary as a real aunt, because I barely saw her a few times over the years. To me she was just a stranger with the title of aunt, my mother’s sister.

She always did this. Insulted. Humiliated. Spoke loudly, in front of others, that I still smelled like milk. That I was the worst example of a virgin in the family.

For free, for no reason, just because.

But it was strange at the same time. The way her eyes dropped to my crotch when she thought I wasn’t looking. The way she leaned too far, cleavage almost swallowing my face. The way her voice dropped, husky, when she called me “nephew” and the “o” stretched out a little too long.

I might have been overthinking and flattering myself, but honestly I think she felt lust. A dirty, predatory lust from an older woman who wanted to devour me whole—young meat. But since she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—turn it into sex, she took it out in insults. Every humiliation was her getting off. Every “you’re not a man” was her touching herself afterward, alone, imagining the opposite.

Could be pure exaggeration on my part. But nothing changed that idea in my head—either that, or she was literally the devil on earth.

And I hated her. Hated her with a force that made me clench my fist until the nails dug into the flesh. Hated her because she was too fucking hot for me to ignore. Forty-two years old, a real woman’s body: marked waist, wide hips, thighs that slapped together when she walked, heavy tits that bounced under any thin blouse. Mouth always painted dark red. Blonde hair loose, falling over her shoulders. And that smell. Sweet and dirty at the same time.

When I found myself locked in my room with her completely naked and provoking me, all I wanted was to jump her. Tear her open, fill that mouth with my cock and cum inside, watching the load drip from her nose… But of course she couldn’t have given less of a shit. A woman like that, even at that age, could get any man without the slightest effort, and in reality I think in the end I was just a pastime she liked to torture—probably some sadistic complex of a psychopath.

My father cut through my trance of thoughts in an instant, dragging me back to reality.

“It’s already arranged, Tobi. Done. Tomorrow morning you take your bag. Her house is far out, quiet, you’ll study in peace. Mary will give you food and a roof. End of discussion.”

I looked at him. I wanted to scream that that woman treated me like garbage, that every visit was a planned humiliation, that I felt my cock throb with rage and lust every time she walked into a room. But the words didn’t come. Only silence.

“Fine.”

The voice came out low, rough. I stood up, went to my room, slammed the door. Threw the bag on the bed. T-shirts, pants, the laptop. Every piece I folded was another chunk of accumulated rage.

Her house. I already knew it. In the middle of the forest, a huge pool, ten minutes by car from the city, no neighbors close enough to hear a scream. Iron gate, dirt path, the dark wooden house, big windows, wide living room with a fireplace. And the guest room on the second floor, right above hers. I had slept there twice already. Both times she walked past in a robe on purpose, the fabric open enough for me to see the outline of her pussy.

I sat on the edge of the bed, hand squeezing my cock through the pants. Hard. Aching. I hated her for leaving me like this. Hated the fact that even after all the insults, I still pictured her legs spread, that tight ass, the red mouth screaming while I fucked her with pure hatred.

Tomorrow I was going there. One month. Thirty days locked up with the aunt who called me a virgin, who flashed herself and then crushed me with words, who felt lust and took it out in humiliation.

I breathed deep. My chest burned. The rage was thick, hot, mixed with the filthy desire to prove the opposite. To break that arrogance. To make her swallow every insult with a throat full of cum.

I closed my eyes and saw her face again: the crooked smile, the blue eyes looking down at me, the mouth saying “you’re not man enough.”

This time I didn’t swallow it.

This time I swore, low, just to myself:

“You’re going to pay with interest. Every word. Every look. Every time you called me a boy.”

I stood up, finished packing the bag, turned off the light. Lay down in the dark, cock still hard, rage throbbing in my blood.

Tomorrow it started.

And I wasn’t going to swallow anything anymore.

Now… the courage to actually do something… I don’t know. Maybe I just needed one more small trigger, because I was already at the absolute limit with that fucking woman.