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Guest Phrost

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Guest Phrost

Guest Phrost

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Foreword

The heroine of this saga is my aunt, "Yan", as was. I say "as was", because not long after this saga unfolded, she and my uncle moved to Hong Kong, where he'd first met her some years earlier. And only a year or so later we heard that they had split up, and a while later he allegedly remarried. It didn't seem all that much later again that we heard that he'd become ill with what I now believe was something like leukaemia or Hodgkin's disease, and he died very quickly. Whatever became of Yan no one in the family aparently knows, or even his alleged second wife who seems to have been something of a mystery, because none of the family over here ever even met her. Very sad! But I worshipped Yan!

When my uncle and Yan lived over here in England, he seemed to be always travelling on business. He worked for some Finance, Insurance and Banking group or other which I can't remember the name of, but which has in any case itself disappeared through successive buy-outs, mergers, acquisitions, and suchlike over the years. Because she was a Hong Kong national, she had no family of her own over here, and when he travelled on business, they and my parents had obviously agreed that she would not remain alone in their grand family home in Surrey all the time, but would spend time with us. And so, at irregular intervals three or four times a year she would turn up at our home, and spend a minimum of ten days or so, and occasionally as much as three or four weeks.

Her husband, my uncle, was my mother's younger brother, and Yan was apparently several years younger than him. I guess my mother was about forty when I was fourteen, which is when this story unfolds, and my uncle would have been about thirtyfive. So I estimate Yan must have been about thirty, maybe even late twenties. She was of mixed Western/Oriental race, and like so many Asians and Orientals she was small and dainty - skinny, some would say. She was lovely and different in that oriental fashion, and when she smiled she was radiant - her teeth and skin were perfect. Her English was good, although she sometimes simplified the language and kept her phrases brief, but on one occasion when she accompanied me to a local Chinese laundry I have never heard such rapid and animated chatter with the proprietor. She wasn't actually called "Yan", but it appeared that her proper name was either unpronounceable in English, or sounded rude, so she had agreed to use "Yan".

At 14 I was still in the Cathedral choir, and was totally ignorant of sexual matters. I had a sister, older by a couple of years, but she was just an asexual sibling to me - part of the furniture! My stint as a chorister was coming to a close, and I was looking forward to going on to a local Public school to which I had won a scholarship. I had over the preceding months discovered that fondling my genitals was pleasant, and I could achieve an erection, but that represented the sum total of my "sexuality" (I'd not discovered how to masturbate yet - I know, I must have been a late developer!) - I believed, however, that "playing with myself" was inappropriate behaviour, and had the typical guilt and hang-ups about it. The "action" part of the story I am telling consisted of about two months in total, in three periods of 2-3 weeks each, with gaps of 2-4 months between each period.

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Guest Phrost

Guest Phrost

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PART ONE

One day, I was lying on my back on my bed in my room, reading a soft-back book and playing with myself. The book I guess would as usual at that time for me have been Science Fiction, nothing torrid. I was fully clothed but I had my flies open and my penis out. Suddenly my bedroom door opened and Yan walked in! Usually I got some warning of someone approaching my room, because of footsteps, creaking floorboards, or voices, but on this occasion nothing - presumably she was so light she made little sound. Luckily, or so I thought, as she came in she was looking over her shoulder, and I was able to do the only thing that I could think of in the circumstances, which was to try to cover myself with the book!

It transpired she had been sent by my mother to see if I had anything to go in the main weekly wash, and as she cast her eye around my tiny room she asked me if I had. I must have muttered something or other, and she looked at me - as one inevitably does when one is in conversation with someone. My room had originally been the "box room" of the house, and was so compact that what with the bed, dressing table and wardrobe there was only standing room of about a square yard right next to the bed, so she was looking down at me - I'd dared not move! My face must have been a picture that told a story, and her eyes moved down to the book on my groin. I was praying she would leave! I couldn't even be sure I had completely covered myself! There was a tense pause, and then to my horror she reached out and picked the book up, revealing my penis! My heart lurched and sank; guilt - shame - embarrassment all crowded in, I instinctively covered myself again with my hands, and I waited for the tirade about what a nasty creature I was, and that she would tell my mother and father, and so on and so on .......

Instead, she smiled knowingly at me, sat down beside me on the bed, placed her hand on my hands, and proceeded to give me a lecture - a homily - on how I shouldn't be ashamed, how it was perfectly natural, how it couldn’t do any harm, and how everybody did it, etc., etc. And while she was talking she tried to wrap my right hand round my penis and encouraged me to make what I was subsequently to discover to be masturbating movements! I was not only unfamiliar with this arrangement, but also embarrassed, so my reluctance was obvious. She suddenly stood up, told me not to move, and reopened my bedroom door and shouted downstairs to my mother that there was no more washing from up here so she could get on with it. She then returned to sit beside me, and said something like, "Lets do this right!". She removed my hand which by then was simply covering my penis again, unfastened my trousers fully and pulled them and my underpants down to my knees, and then took my penis in her delicate little hands and proceeded to start gently massaging it, reiterating the lecture about how natural it all was, how it was merely a way of enjoying one's own body, how it couldn't do any harm, how everybody did it, etc., etc., and how my uncle (her husband) liked her to "give him a rub", too! I was so overtaken by events, and totally at her mercy, in a way, that I simply lay there and let her do it! She, the adult, was in charge!

continued....

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Guest Phrost

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In no time at all the most amazing and wonderful feelings, far more intense than I had ever experienced before, started to overwhelm me as she casually sat there, smiling at me sweetly and doing the unthinkable - stroking away at my swollen, rigid and now so wonderfully sensitive penis that fitted in her hand as if it was made for it! She kept up a constant flow of whispered encouragement, such as, "That's right, just relax! Just lie back! That's nice isn't it!". "Oh yes!", when I twitched, "That's it!" when I squirmed, or "That's good!" when I started to pant and writhe. Her smile seemed to get brighter and brighter as she worked on me and observed the effect she was having on me. Excitement, tension and pleasure such as I had never thought possible grew and grew in my quivering body! I could scarcely breathe, I was drowning in her smiling eyes, and my whole trembling being was on fire as one gentle but firm hand worked up and down my penis, and the other tenderly cupped and fondled my balls! When I uttered an involuntary moan, she hushed me and smiled such an understanding smile, and continued her incredible pleasuring! I had no idea, of course, where these fabulous sensations were leading to, or even whether they were in fact leading to anything at all, but they were so gorgeous and I didn't want them to stop, ever! She was a Goddess, she had dominion over me, she was an Angel of ecstasy, stimulating my pleasure centre, she was delight incarnate, she was my very life force, she was ..... but I was suddenly transfixed by the most beautiful, unbelievably wonderful, shudders and judders and spasms as my whole body uncontrollably bucked and arched on the bed in the ecstasy of my first ever orgasm!

However, in the midst of these wonderful, mind-blowing feelings, white viscous fluid erupted unexpectedly from my penis, rather messily! I apologised, explaining that that had never happened before. She was amazed and delighted, and said, beaming, "Your first time? Oh, you sweetie!" She kissed and cuddled me, as she pumped the last residue of that fluid slowly and exquisitely out of me as I heaved and twitched my last, and she reassured me as she did so that that was how it was supposed to be - every time - and it was good, wasn't it! I had to agree! Wow! She explained the function of the fluid, or "spunk" as she called it. She seemed to think that it being my first orgasm was simply wonderful, and said she felt so pleased to be the one to have given me my first sexual experience! From somewhere she produced a cloth or tissue, and proceeded to mop up, and suggested that we should "keep this our little secret"! After all, she said, in some ways one's body was the only thing in this World that truly belonged to us, and if we couldn't enjoy that, what could we enjoy? And she offered the opinion that sexual pleasure was the best to be had, was completely free, and there was an endless supply. As if to prove this point, whilst continuing her discourse on the pleasures to be enjoyed, she had never relinquished hold of my cock while she spoke, initially wiping it, but then gently holding and fondling it, perhaps without really thinking, and it soon became abundantly apparent that I was ready again - mere minutes after my first orgasm! She smiled that lovely smile and said, "I think I've started something haven't I - you'd like some more, wouldn't you?", and I said, "Yes, please!" or something. (She must have seen in my face how much I wanted her to do so!)

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Guest Phrost

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So she set too again, her hand rippling up and down my penis with such a thrilling touch again, but it was immediately apparent to me how much I had changed! I had lost my innocence, and I now knew what this led to, and she seemed to intuitively understand the change I had undergone - her attitude and language had altered, too! On this occasion she leaned towards me, conspiratorially, and goaded me with, "Come on sweetie! Come on little man, show me what you're made of! You can do it! Do it for me! Spunk for me! I want your spunk! Give me your lovely spunk!", and suchlike, whilst her eyes locked with mine and her hand worked its magic! I found myself panting to her that I wanted to spunk for her - I wanted it so desperately - so desperately! I involuntarily reached out to her, and she took my hand and pressed it between her thighs as her other hand continued its wonderful work up and down my penis! The rapture rose in me again, and I felt the prickling in my scalp and the tension in my body rising as she pumped me and encouraged me! And in an unreasonably short time, it seemed, she had reduced me to an amoeba, a consenting cock, and I was once again writhing, juddering and spurting ecstatically to her rhythm as she pumped my spunk out of me, stroke by wonderful stroke, saying, "That's right! That's right! Lovely spunk! Lovely!", whilst I gasped and moaned and shook! I felt fabulous, and she was the most wonderful creature in God's creation!

After cleaning things up again she announced, smilingly, that she thought that was enough for today - I mustn't be too greedy - and my mother would be wondering where she's got to! But there would be other days, provided we were discreet about it! And as she left my room, with a broad smile she suggested, "So any time you want me to "give you a rub" just ask!"

I lay there for quite some time, simply stunned and overwhelmed by the turn of events!

It seemed I never really needed to ask! In the following days when our paths crossed, I only had to sidle up to her, or hover near her, or catch her eye, and she would read my mind, and give me a knowing and quizzical litttle smile. She would then find some excuse to go upstairs, and I would shortly follow, or I would go to my room, followed shortly by her. Occasionally she would ask me to go and try on a new sweater she was knitting. It seemed strange to me for an Oriental, but she was a persistent knitter of sweaters and cardigans for everyone it seemed, and she frequently used me as a template, to see how the latest one was coming on, so it was a useful excuse to get me upstairs with her - in her room on those occasions. I would lie on the bed and pull my trousers down to my knees, and without more ado she would get to work on my penis, offering sweet encouraging words, and rapidly reducing me to panting, writhing, sweating worship! Clearly she seemed to be very good at it, it seemed to me, using either hand or both, fondling my scrotum, frequently asking, "That nice?", or "That good?", as appropriate, "Come on! Do it for me!", or some such expression, as I was reaching the heights, until the inevitable shuddering, explosive climax, at which stage she always asked the redundant question, "Was that nice?". I thought I was in paradise, I was certainly in love, and then she was gone!!! - until the next time came! In my naivete, it took me a while to establish that I could actually achieve an orgasm by myself, and it was not something that only she could do!

To be continued .......

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ojjairus

ojjairus

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Foreword

The heroine of this saga is my aunt, "Yan", as was. I say "as was", because not long after this saga unfolded, she and my uncle moved to Hong Kong, where he'd first met her some years earlier. And only a year or so later we heard that they had split up, and a while later he allegedly remarried. It didn't seem all that much later again that we heard that he'd become ill with what I now believe was something like leukaemia or Hodgkin's disease, and he died very quickly. Whatever became of Yan no one in the family aparently knows, or even his alleged second wife who seems to have been something of a mystery, because none of the family over here ever even met her. Very sad! But I worshipped Yan!

When my uncle and Yan lived over here in England, he seemed to be always travelling on business. He worked for some Finance, Insurance and Banking group or other which I can't remember the name of, but which has in any case itself disappeared through successive buy-outs, mergers, acquisitions, and suchlike over the years. Because she was a Hong Kong national, she had no family of her own over here, and when he travelled on business, they and my parents had obviously agreed that she would not remain alone in their grand family home in Surrey all the time, but would spend time with us. And so, at irregular intervals three or four times a year she would turn up at our home, and spend a minimum of ten days or so, and occasionally as much as three or four weeks.

Her husband, my uncle, was my mother's younger brother, and Yan was apparently several years younger than him. I guess my mother was about forty when I was fourteen, which is when this story unfolds, and my uncle would have been about thirtyfive. So I estimate Yan must have been about thirty, maybe even late twenties. She was of mixed Western/Oriental race, and like so many Asians and Orientals she was small and dainty - skinny, some would say. She was lovely and different in that oriental fashion, and when she smiled she was radiant - her teeth and skin were perfect. Her English was good, although she sometimes simplified the language and kept her phrases brief, but on one occasion when she accompanied me to a local Chinese laundry I have never heard such rapid and animated chatter with the proprietor. She wasn't actually called "Yan", but it appeared that her proper name was either unpronounceable in English, or sounded rude, so she had agreed to use "Yan".

At 14 I was still in the Cathedral choir, and was totally ignorant of sexual matters. I had a sister, older by a couple of years, but she was just an asexual sibling to me - part of the furniture! My stint as a chorister was coming to a close, and I was looking forward to going on to a local Public school to which I had won a scholarship. I had over the preceding months discovered that fondling my genitals was pleasant, and I could achieve an erection, but that represented the sum total of my "sexuality" (I'd not discovered how to masturbate yet - I know, I must have been a late developer!) - I believed, however, that "playing with myself" was inappropriate behaviour, and had the typical guilt and hang-ups about it. The "action" part of the story I am telling consisted of about two months in total, in three periods of 2-3 weeks each, with gaps of 2-4 months between each period.

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