<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><em><strong>Name:</strong> Reese Spalding <strong>Location:</strong> Behind closed doors, or so he thought <strong>Tags:</strong> Testing auntie </em></span></span><br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://cs618829.vk.me/v618829147/16e88/_llsAdvkGs8.jpg)</div>"<strong>I believe</strong>..." The words were measured, the syllables lengthened, the meaning hidden and apparent all at once. "...<strong>nature forbids me</strong>..." My voice has an electricity to it, soft in tone and heady with innuendo. "...<strong>from being a good boy</strong>..." But it is here that I prove I am more a bad man, nestling in close, much too close, to your sumptuous curves. "...<strong>and helping you solve both your problems, <em>auntie</em></strong>" That last word is a scythe through the notion of propriety.<br/><br/>Hands that had seemed content to massage your shoulders now began wandering with careful deliberation. Instinct tells me to squeeze as I reached a spot just above your elbow. A show of force. An invitation for your imagination. It doesn't take much to go from here to full on fucking. My cock is strong and throbbing at your ass, I have the leverage I need to thrust and your pussy, though protected, is clearly ready.<br/><br/>"<strong>So wrong</strong>," I murmur at your ear whilst my hips grind into your body. "<strong>Mmm, you're thicker than Chanel</strong>." An open-mouthed gasp makes it difficult to mask how much I like that. Women who starve themselves to fit into size zero dresses were good for the spotlight, perhaps. But they cannot make a man go wild. "<strong>Nice, curvy, full-bodied. Oh yes, that's just perfect</strong>."<br/><br/>The line is still within sight; the one that we must respect to safeguard our morality. It can still be argued that aunt and son were merely locked in a rather passionate but not wholly untoward embrace. Who will buckle first?