Crowd of young soccer players

“And your aunt is a very fuckable bitch!” shouted Mark, the captain of our football team.

My aunt, whom I moved in just a week ago, really was nothing. Big beautiful plastic breasts, which she made herself right after the last divorce, butt pumped up in an expensive fitness club and a pretty face, completely untouched by age.

Only now she embarrassed me from the first day by constantly looking at me.

I had just turned eighteen and she was staring at my dick when I came out of the shower wearing only a white towel.

And after that incident in the morning, about which I already spoke, our relationship, to put it mildly, changed. I deliberately harassed her by not giving new conditions and not remembering how she finished on her knees in front of my beautiful cock. She finished with my permission, thus recognizing that now I am the head of her house.

I understand that the youthful body of a football player's nephew with broad shoulders and six-pack abs can be attractive not only to the high school students of the neighboring school, but also to mature women, but not so much as to call me on the football field in patent pink stilettos and short mini dress? Comon!

It's just indecent.

Although maybe her pink brains are really so dumb that she does not understand that all the boys will now discuss this?

Said interrupted my thoughts.

– Maybe after the match with the Barvikha Octopuses she will look into our locker room? – Said, half Egyptian, half Slav, was the tallest defender and the only dark-skinned athlete of our team.

Having said this, he opened the towel and entered the shower room. His big black cock dangled between his legs like a patrolling boa constrictor. He had huge strong hips, like a horse, but I saw his trunk for the first time, and he was appropriate.

The whole locker room was buzzing about my aunt.

- I would put it between her boobs, - Danila showed with his hands how he would put his penis between my aunt's plastic balls and began to show with his hips how exactly he would fuck them.

- Max, well, can you give your aunt's phone number? I have something to throw off for her,” Georg grabbed his groin through a towel and squeezed and shook it several times, leaving a clearly drawn outline of a hefty penis.

The guys seemed to break free from the chain, hooting, jumping onto the benches, invitingly fucking the air.

I dried myself with a towel and began to dry my hair with a hairdryer, smiling from the top of my head at the pouring greasy jokes about my aunt.

Looking in the mirror, I saw an athletic freshman who seemed to easily join the team of the university's sports team. Drops of water ran down his neck and disappeared into the hollows of his collarbones on his skin, tanned after a summer in Italy.

I looked at Apple Watch. There was a new message from my aunt: "Waiting at the exit."

God, what a creep. It just looks pathetic.

I remember how in the first days of moving to her I was a little sad and she bought me a playstation. We communicated well, and I even began to have some tender feelings for her.

It seemed to me that the last divorce affected her very painfully, and I could be the one to help her get through it. Simple support, because I moved in with her and we lived together for the second week.

A slightly strange union of a gorgeous beautiful, but lonely rich woman in her thirties and an eighteen-year-old guy, but ... she was the sister of my mysteriously missing father and it smoothed the corners.

No, we didn't communicate enough in childhood, so now it turned out that we were practically strangers to each other.

Sometimes, when she was drinking tea by the window, looking at the sunset park, I just silently approached and stroked her hair.

He didn't say anything, just simple human support.

But now…

She is lining up so that I again allow her to masturbate on her knees on my young body and just so that I don’t go back to my uncle.

But don’t care, I’m young, I’m hot, all the girls are crazy about me even at the university where I’m new, and if my divorced aunt wants to humiliate me so that I stay in her townhouse on Rublyovka, then don’t care.

Running down the steps of the sports complex, I fixed my naughty long bangs with my hand, winked at the eighth graders who hang around here forever hoping to exchange a couple of phrases with the guys from the Rublevskiye Otters football team, and headed for my aunt's white Mercedes of the latest model.

I looked at myself again in the reflection of the polished car: a young stallion, ready to jump and gallop all day long. It was hard to tell by my brisk walk that I had just finished the hardest two-hour training before the final match of the cup.

Thoughts were spinning in my head that the school year was starting and that studying at the university would be much more difficult than studying at school. But the chicks here are much more mature and, according to the stories of the guys, they allow more high school girls ...

I also knew that Kamilla Yakhontova studied here, for whom I had plans.

I looked forward to initiation into the institute fraternity. Even the entrance test was kept secret from us newcomers.

– Hello, I bought cinnabons there. A young body needs to be refreshed, - I heard the voice of my aunt from the lowered window.

I got into the car. The chair creaked pleasantly with novelty under me.

Frightened, clutching the steering wheel, even though we were standing, my aunt Xenia was afraid to even look in my direction through her black glasses.

I know why. You know why. Everyone knows why.

Because she'll start staring at my athletic body in this tight white polo with a starched collar.

'Cause she's going to be thrilled again by my sparkling Hollywood smile.

Deciding to tease her a bit on the way home, I spread my legs. I deliberately didn't put on my underpants after the shower, and my chicks dangled freely under the satin fabric of the shorts. The outlines of a large scrotum and a weighty sausage now appeared, then disappeared without a trace.

Just recently I learned in a lecture on YouTube that women have better peripheral vision than men.

Let's consider this a lab.

The experiment was a success, and within a minute I could see my aunt swallowing awkwardly and confusing her words.

“I…maybe…how was the match?” Training, well… How was the training?

The adult heifer clearly flowed from my presence alone.

Although I was fifteen years younger, sports and teenage acceleration made me two heads taller and larger than her.

I deliberately looked at her. Deep neckline, short skirt. High studs neatly placed next to the pedals. She drove barefoot in early September. Sunglasses reliably protected her eyes from wrinkles and blinding autumn Moscow sun.