New story here. It takes a while to get going, but I believe the background is important. If you’re looking for a quickie, this may not be for you.
I do appreciate your time. Thanks.
My name is Donal Liam Padraig O’Sullivan. If you read it with your best Irish lilt, or perhaps using your leprechaun impression, it rolls off the tongue easier, and accurately conveys my lineage. I’m lucky that even my parents didn’t call me that tongue twisting moniker… unless I’m in trouble. Otherwise, I was just plain Danny. Yes, I’m Irish.
And no, I’m not… at least, not really. I’m Canadian, and so are my sisters, and my parents, but that didn’t stop my parents from naming us all in the Celtic tradition. My grandparents are Old Country, as are my Great Grandparents, a few of whom are still alive, and one Great Great Grandmother. I suppose, when you follow the good Catholic example of spawning enough children to start a family sports team, there will be survivors, and if a muti-generational family reunion were to happen… well, we’d need a lot of chairs.
With five older sisters, twenty cousins spread across five maternal aunts and one uncle, and 18 more from my father’s side, we were nearly a nation of our own. I gave up trying to figure it out beyond my great grandparents… It was giving me a headache. Let’s just say the O’Sullivan genes were well spread out across the world.
It got a little more confusing around our house than mere numbers. My mother is the oldest of my grandparent’s children, and she met Dad, married, and had my eldest sister just after turning eighteen. It must have spurred my grandparents into action once more, and they had one more child, a girl, about a year after. By the time I came along, about five years, two single and one pair of twin girls later, my Aunt Siobhan was at our house so much, I really thought she was my sister.
I don’t remember much about my father, as he died shortly after my second birthday. Maybe the strain of trying to produce a male heir was too much, after so many girls. Whatever the reason, I grew up in a house full of women, the only testosterone in a sea of estrogen.
I absolutely loved it. Being the youngest, and only boy, I was doted on by my all my sisters, my aunt, and my Mom. There was very little sibling rivalry that I recall… at least, not directed toward me. As my sisters grew up, there was some friction within the female members of our family, but I was blissfully uninvolved.
Often, I was like a fly on the wall, completely unnoticed. Oh, the things I saw.
I don’t know if you’ve spent much time around that many females at once, but during the morning rush, it can be like backstage at a Las Vegas revue, with women in various stages of undress flitting all around. Towels were dropped, and naked women were everywhere.
Of course, most of the women weren’t really women yet, just barely older than I was, but Mom sometimes forgot I was around. She wouldn’t be competing in any swimsuit competitions anymore, but as the first adult woman I ever saw naked, her plump, rounded curves and big tits made a lasting impression. Soon, Fiona, my eldest sister, started to take on some of the same attributes, and that’s when doors started getting closed around the house. My time as an honorary sister reached its end. It was nice while it lasted, even if I didn’t really know what I was seeing.
I think that’s about the time Vonnie and I grew closer. Yes, I’m talking about my aunt Siobhan, which is pronounced ‘Shavon’ for most people, despite the distinct lack of a ‘V’ anywhere in the name. I called her Vonnie, and as I said earlier, she spent a lot of time at our house. Only two blocks away, and closer in age to my family than her own, she was like my sixth sister, and had a different attitude than my real sisters.
Her own brother… my uncle Cillian, was seventeen years older than her. Her closest sister was twelve years older, so she was every bit as much an afterthought as I was, as low boys and girls on our respective totem poles. I suppose it’s natural we should become good friends, and the five year gap between us didn’t seem quite so wide.
Vonnie was going through the same changes my sisters were, but she remained my friend throughout, without the uncomfortable weirdness I was getting from Fiona, Maire, Muireanne, Shelagh, and Gael. As Fiona blossomed into a beautiful carbon copy of Mom, complete with the red hair and blue eyes, Vonnie became a similar version of her own mother, my grandmother. Her hair was a little darker, but the resemblance to both her mother and sister was obvious.
I believe that this is about when I discovered the laundry hamper. Six… or occasionally seven… women go through a lot of panties, and I noticed the aroma that all those soiled undies were producing. I was entering puberty myself, and for some reason unknown to me at the time, the smell of pussy made my cock get very stiff. I discovered that rubbing my stiff cock felt really, realllllllly goooooood, so I would do bursa otele gelen eskort it every day. It was fun.
Mom didn’t think it was so much fun, though, when she caught me one day, a pair of Fiona’s panties in one hand, under my nose, and my rock hard dick in the other. Appalled, she banished me to my room, and changed the laundry procedures in the house to cut off my supply of aromatic underwear. Without the extra stimulation, masturbation lost some of its appeal, but the genie was out of the bottle, and I couldn’t unlearn jerking off.
I could learn to lock the damn bathroom door properly, however.
I’m not really sure how Vonnie found out about my private bathroom activities. It might have been overheard gossip, or maybe she just figured I was the right age, and made the logical assumption. I mean, we may all have been named like we were still in the 19th century, but we were a thoroughly modern family, and knew what was what.
She had this way of teasing me about it… if it had been my sisters doing it, I would have been mortified, but she made it a fun tease. She called it ‘playing with my boy stuff’, kind of a gentle reminder that we were different, even if she was my best female friend. It always ended with a hug, just to let me know it was not meant maliciously.
The playful banter took on a new dimension one day, when she was inducing a blush by razzing me, as usual. We were alone… she was very careful not to give fuel to my sisters. It was our little game, and she didn’t want it to become too emotionally painful. It was supposed to be fun, but the bomb she dropped on me made it much more than merely play.
She was doing her best, turning me bright red with questions about when I last ‘played with my stuff’, and she looked around, making sure we were alone.
“You know, girls do it too,” she smiled. I was confused, and it must have shown, so she clarified. “You play with your stuff, and we play with ours. I play with mine all the time.”
We were thoroughly modern, but Mom had a modern solution to keep her children from growing up too quickly. She took parental security codes to a level I didn’t know existed, so I wasn’t as knowledgeable about the mechanics of sex as some of my friends. The thought that girls did… that… to themselves was new.
New, and exciting. That image was front and centre in my mind during my next opportunity to play with my stuff.
Despite Mom’s best efforts, my sexual education had begun. I was twelve, and at a time when most boys were learning from each other or the Internet, I had a much more interesting source. A much softer, and more attractive source.
My friend, who was more like a sister to me, but wasn’t, because she wasn’t.
No. She was my mother’s sister.
My aunt Siobhan.
Things remained status quo for a while. Vonnie was nearly eighteen, was dating other boys, and was still my best friend.
She was also still my teacher, and would drop the odd tidbit here and there. Nothing too overt, and nothing I couldn’t get from the Internet, if I could find a way around Mom’s password codes… but delivered as it was from a female perspective, I found it fascinating.
Her friendship had also given me more confidence around girls. Yes, she still teased me, and always held the upper hand, but coming from her I didn’t mind as much. My sisters held their power as a way of putting me in my place, but Vonnie was playing when she did it. It was our private game, and she obviously enjoyed it as much as I did.
Anyway, that confidence came bubbling to the surface one day when she was at our house, just after her birthday. She was officially a woman now, but that didn’t change anything between us. She popped in on me in my room, but before she could begin her normal routine, I beat her to it.
“So, how about you tell me when you last played with your stuff?” I asked, with a smile and a gallon of bravado.
“Oh ho! Look who just grew a pair!” Vonnie laughed, her blue eyes sparkling. “Okay, Mr. O’Sullivan… It was yesterday, and it was lots of fun!” she giggled, then gestured to me. It was my turn.
“This morning, and I had fun, too,” I laughed back. The confidence was like a narcotic, and made me continue without thinking. “It would be better with something to sniff, um… oh, never mind.”
I could feel my face glowing, and turned away.
“Danny?” she said softly, touching my shoulder. I turned back to face her. “It’s alright. Nothing new under the sun. We girls do smell good, don’t we?” She wrapped me in a big hug, letting me know my apparent perversion wasn’t going to chase her away. She held me longer than usual, my head against her chest. It was so soft. A certain part of me was headed toward the other end of the scale, so I turned my hips, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She released me, and left with a different look on her face, like she was thinking.
At the nearest opportunity, I made a bee-line for bursa eve gelen escort bayan the bathroom.
For my thirteenth birthday, Mom got me my first cell phone. In it, she had already programmed her own cell number, and those of all my sisters, who had received their phones on their thirteenth birthday.
There was one number missing, and I asked Fiona if I could borrow her phone to get it. She just smiled, and handed it to me, letting me look up Vonnie’s number myself. I gave it back, and typed the information into my device.
I was so proud. Getting my phone was a rite of passage in our house. It signified trust, and growing up. I wanted to call someone special for my first call, and there was only one person who qualified. I pressed the button.
“Hello?” I heard from the other end.
“Hi. It’s me,” I giggled, then clued in. Maybe she didn’t recognize my voice, so I clarified. “It’s Danny. I got my new phone!”
“So I see,” she laughed. “That’s great, honey. I’d love to talk, but I’m a little busy right now. Can I call you back?”
“Um, sure,” I replied, “I guess I don’t really have much to say anyway. Just wanted to try my phone, and wanted you to be my first call.”
“That’s so sweet, honey. I promise, I’ll call you back later, okay?” she said softly.
“Okay,” I nodded. “Goodbye.”
Just before the line went dead, I thought I heard a voice ask “who was tha…” It wasn’t a girl’s voice.
About ten minutes later, my phone made a noise. I picked it up. My first text message. From Vonnie.
Sorry about that, sweetie. I’m on a date. I’ll call you when I get home, and I’m definitely coming to your party this weekend. Congratulations, little man!
I read it twice. On a date? Well, that explains it. I wasn’t sure what ‘on a date’ meant yet, but it sounded important. Maybe she’d explain it when we talked.
Okay. Thanks. I typed, and hit send.
I waited for her to call back, but I fell asleep before she did.
The phone was laying on my pillow, right next to my face, so when it buzzed, it woke me easily.
“Hello?” I answered, even though I knew who it was. Who else could it be?
“Hi Danny!,” Vonnie chirped. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t talk before. I was with my boyfriend. It took a while to explain to him who you were. He’s the jealous type. He thought I had another boyfriend on the side, so now he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
It took me a few seconds to decipher that one. She had dumped him because of my call.
“I’m sorry, Vonnie. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just…”
“Danny… honey,” she interrupted. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel guilty. It’s not your fault, so don’t worry about it. I’m actually glad I found out now that he’s a jerk, before I got emotionally involved. Thank you.”
I had no idea what to say next, so I said nothing, hoping she would save me.
“I guess that makes you my only boyfriend,” she laughed. “Do you like older women?”
“All the women I know are older women,” I smiled, in a moment of sudden adolescent maturity.
“Wow! You really have grown up lately, haven’t you?” she howled. “That was funny!”
I laughed along with her, feeling close despite the distance between us. A whole two blocks.
“I should go, honey, but I’ll see you Saturday at your party,” she said softly.
I really liked the idea of being her boyfriend, even if I didn’t know what it meant yet.
Things started changing around our house during the next year or so. Fiona got married and moved out before I turned fourteen. The twins were both gone by the time I turned seventeen, and my youngest older sister, Gael married shortly after that, leaving only Shelagh and myself at home with Mom.
More changed at home than just the roster of residents. For example, I grew up. Literally.
My father hadn’t been overly tall, or at least, not that I recall. When you’re a kid, everything is relative. When everyone is that much taller than you are, you only notice their height compared to each other. This fact was made worse by the fact that I was a small child. All my sisters seemed to be blessed with the long legs of a gazelle from birth, but I was the little brother, in every sense of the word.
All that started to change just after I turned thirteen, as my growth spurt finally arrived. For the next three years, I was a clothing manufacturers dream, growing out of pants every three or four months. I went from just under five feet, and about 100 pounds, to just over six feet, and nearly 180.
Through it all, Vonnie and I remained close. She had her life, of course, and several boyfriends, but I remained her one, constant, special friend. Our conversations, almost every night, were those of best friends, not nephew and aunt.
Vonnie became my tutor again, coaching me through my earliest relationships with girls. Little more than crushes, really, but she helped me understand the female point bayan eskort bursa of view, especially when the point of view excluded me. She was like a mother, my own age, or at least a lot closer to it, and she was much easier to talk to.
I even returned the favour when her most serious relationship imploded, holding her while she cried, then telling her how beautiful she was, and what an idiot he was. I’ll never forget her kiss of thanks…on the cheek, but still so tender and memorable.
I found myself getting emotionally attached to her. It was difficult to remember she was my aunt.
My eighteenth birthday was special. I suppose that’s pretty obvious, with the whole ‘legal age’ thing, but mine was more so.
As often happens, my actual birthday fell midweek, but there was no way our family was doing a midweek party. Too many aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters and grandparents to pull that off, so the party would be a belated affair. That didn’t stop my friends from taking me out for a small gathering, however, and my sister Shelagh had a wrapped parcel for me when I got home.
“Siobhan dropped this off for you,” Shelagh said quietly. “Happy birthday.”
I looked at the package… a box, wrapped in bright paper, with a ribbon around it. A card was attached, and I opened it first.
“Call me before you open this,” it said, along with the usual best wishes. “No matter what time it is.”
Okay, you got it. I thumbed my phone into life, and scrolled down the list to Vonnie, then pressed the button. A few seconds later, I heard her familiar voice.
“Hi Danny, honey,” she purred. “I was wondering if I would hear from you tonight. Shelagh said you were out with your friends. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” I replied. “Just a few of my classmates taking me out for a burger and some fun. Nothing much happened.”
“Any girls there?” she asked. “Any hotties after your body now that you’re legal?”
“I wish!” I laughed. “Just one girl tonight, the girlfriend of one of my buddies, and she’s not that hot,” I explained. “What’s with the gift? Does this mean you’re not coming this weekend?”
“Oh no,” she giggled, “I’ll be there. You’ve got a birthday kiss, and a big hug coming.”
Mmmmm, a Vonnie hug… almost as soft as a Mom hug, and a whole lot more fun. She had developed the same big, voluptuous chest as her sisters… I mean, Mom and my other aunts. Actually all my sisters were pretty similar, as well. This house would be filled with big, soft breasts this weekend, and I’d probably get hugs from all of them. Little wonder I was a breast man.
“I just thought this gift would be better without the crowd,” she continued. “Actually,” she laughed, “I don’t think either of us wants to open this in front of anyone else.”
“Huh?” I asked, not following her point.
“Just open it. You’ll see,” she directed.
Okay. I plucked at the ribbon, which gave way, and allowed me to tear the paper open. A box, yes, that much I guessed. I popped the tape at each side, and lifted the lid.
It was a book, one that I had been looking for. I had an interest in vintage warbirds, and this book catalogued the various models of the iconic British fighter, the Spitfire.
“Vonnie! This is perfect! Thank you so much!” I gasped, then wondered, “Why wouldn’t I open this in front of anyone? It’s a great gift.”
“Well… It’s not alone in there,” she said softly. “Look under the tissue. I got you something you’ve wanted for years,” she added cryptically.
Women! Why can’t they just answer a question? I thought, rummaging deeper. Why does everything have to… be a… Oh my god!
There, between the layers of tissue paper, was a clear zip lock bag. I picked it up with trembling hands. Inside… oh god… inside was a… a pair of panties! I gasped.
She’s either psychic or she heard me, and knew I’d found the special gift.
“I remember someone saying they wanted something to sniff while playing with their stuff,” she giggled. “You still play with your stuff, don’t you?”
“Um, yeah,” I gulped, holding the bag up. They weren’t just panties ; they were sexy panties, black, lacey, and quite brief. “Are these yours, Vonnie?” I asked, picturing her in the tiny garment.
“No, I stole them from a strangers house for you!” she laughed. “YES! Of course they’re mine! I wore them for two days, just to make sure they’d last a while… you know, so you could play more than once. Speaking of which… did you play today?”
“Uh… no actually,” I stumbled. “Did you?”
“Mmmmm, yes,” she growled. “Twice. So I guess you’ll be wanting to go now, huh? Have fun, honey.”
The phone went dead.
My cock, on the other hand, was definitely alive. It had begun to awaken when I saw the panties in the bag, and gradually hardened throughout the conversation. Now it was harder than I could ever remember it being, and very, very uncomfortable in my pants. She was right ; I was heading to the bathroom, right now.
One advantage to being nearly the last one left in the house was that bathroom time… for any reason… no longer needed to be scheduled on a seniority basis. There were two full baths and a powder room to choose from. Since it was late, and both Mom and Shelagh were asleep, I chose the powder room downstairs, as far away from them as possible. Sure, I’d be as quiet as I could, but why take extra chances?