Growing up, I lived close to my aunt, my mum's eldest sister, and her daughter, my cousin, Wendy. Aunty Marion was the black sheep of the family. She'd got pregnant as a teenager, had given that baby up for adoption, and had had a series of affairs with married men - she'd never married herself - so wasn't highly regarded by many of the women on our estate. Wendy was the result of one affair, and Aunty Marion brought her up on her own.

Despite all the scandal and promiscuity, my mum felt closer to Aunty Marion than anyone else in the family, though they were miles apart in their morals. Aunty Marion was my favourite relative too; she was always funny, always pleased to see you, and always kind. Wendy was ten years older than me and as much a handful as her mum had been and still was, and locals often muttered darkly.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"

Wendy was like a mini-version of her mum. Both were tall, both with long dark black hair, both with small boobs, and both with long legs, of which they were justly proud and often showed off in short dresses, skirts, and hot pants. Wendy still lived at home in her mid-twenties. Lots of firms were closing down in the late seventies and early eighties, and unemployment loomed large in my area. It helped both of them to share a house. 

As a sixteen-year-old, I remember lusting after both of them, but mostly Wendy. Wendy knew the effect she had on guys and wasn't shy about coming forward. I was just her annoying little cousin, but as long as I kept my distance when needed and didn't spoil things for her, she tolerated me hanging around. Up at the Rec, towards the main road, there was a park keeper's building. A grand structure, paid for by a mill owner at the end of the previous century, now the windows were covered in a metal mesh to stop them from being broken, and it was only used to store equipment. It was popular with us because it had a veranda along two sides that was sheltered from the rain. It was secluded, and many young couples first explored each other under its terracotta tiles. 

So it was no surprise that I'd hide amongst the bushes and undergrowth to see what show might be happening - this predates the Internet, remember - and likewise, it was no surprise to see my cousin there, being snogged madly as a flares-wearing guy was frigging her with his hand under her skirt. As long as I kept quiet and wasn't noticed, I could see a great show. Of course, my eyesight was better then! If I was noticed, I needed to run fast! 

As I got older, there were rumours about Wendy and Aunty Marion sharing and swapping guys. If that happened, I never saw it, and given the reputation that both of them had, there were often unsavoury rumours passed around locally. Mud sticks, and there's no smoke without fire, but really, it takes two to tango, so without the regular supply of guys, they couldn't have done the things that led to the unkind rumours. It was the first time I realised that guys who bed lots of women are called studs, and women who bed lots of men are called sluts. The unfair nature of that double standard has stayed with me ever since! 

Years went by, and I moved away, got married, had kids of my own, got divorced, and found myself in a very small studio flat watching porn on TV and un-impressing those women I'd 'met' on Tinder and had persuaded to come back to my place. To make matters worse, my firm decided to close down the site where I was working. I was luckier than some; I got offered a transfer to the head office, which was about a thirty-minute drive from where I grew up. No relocation expenses, but hey, I still had my job. 

I decided to look for somewhere to live back where I started out. Accommodation prices were cheaper here, but lots of the places I looked at were so bad that I knew they wouldn't suit. I took a break from my search and went into one of the pubs on my old estate for a ham roll and a beer. The pub wasn't busy, and I took a seat at the bar as I waited for the barmaid to come back from the cellar. As she came in, I realised it was Wendy. I hadn't seen her for almost ten years. Life moves on! She was really pleased to see me, and we sat nattering between the very few drinks she was called upon to serve that lunchtime. 

She told me that I wasn't to leave the area without popping in to see her and Aunty Marion. I told Wendy I was looking for a small flat or house in the area, and she said she'd keep an eye out for me. She looked amazing, and I realised she was now sixty-four, nearly sixty-five. She was wearing a slim and short red dress, still showing off her fabulous legs. She could easily pass for someone twenty years younger! After the lunchtime 'rush', I followed Wendy back to her house. From the outside, it really didn't look much different from the other houses on the street. Aunty Wendy had moved in just after it had been built, at a time when mortgage rates were low and house prices were tumbling. It was hers outright, and she'd always been very proud of it.  

Inside, though, was another story. Considerable work had gone on to extend the kitchen, develop the garden, and otherwise improve this 1950's semi. Wendy showed me around, and her pride was obvious too. A huge shower room and bathroom upstairs with a rainfall shower and a large curved bath! They'd extended into the attic, and her old bedroom was now empty as they'd created a suite in the attic with a bedroom and seating area with her own TV. 

Out into the garden, there was a hot tub, a sauna, and a gas barbecue with comfy seating around it. The house was really outstanding and very comfortable. I had another appointment to see a house to rent, and Wendy offered to come with me. It was a couple of miles away, and we nattered away in the car like old friends. This next house was a small terraced house, backing onto a railway line. The estate agent was, as usual, very enthusiastic, but every time he pointed out the plus points of the property, it just emphasised the negative elements. It felt dark, dingy, and damp, and I hated it. 

I felt a little subdued back in the car as I drove Wendy home. She didn't have a good word to say about the house. As I pulled up in front of her house, she invited me in for a cup of tea. In fact, Aunty Marion made the tea, with Wendy assisting. As we were drinking that, Wendy said.

"Why don't you move in with us? We've got the room; we know you,and you'd be very welcome. I've discussed it with Mum,and she thinks it is a great idea."

I was very tempted, and the more I thought about it, the fewer reasons I could think of to say no. I agreed and decided to move in next weekend. They didn't want me to pay as I was family, but I insisted that I'd pay the going rate or I wouldn't feel able to stay. 

During that next week, I packed up my life in my old studio flat. I thought about hiring a 'man with a van' to move everything, but rather pathetically, everything (just about) fitted in my car. I didn't feel especially sad leaving, though, and I was looking forward to my new digs. When I got to Aunty Marion's house, Wendy was waiting for me. Aunty Marion wasn't feeling very bright, and she was asleep in her bedroom. Wendy explained that the doctor had given her some tablets, which made her feel drowsy, so she would sleep for hours. 

Wendy helped me unpack and put away things, and though I thought I'd got away with her seeing my sizable collection of porn, I caught her browsing through them as I came back from a toilet break! After some lunch, Wendy suggested using the hot tub to relax. It seemed like a good idea, so I went up to my room, undressed, found my trunks, and went downstairs. Wendy was already in the tub, together with a bottle of Prosecco and two glasses nearby. How the other half live! 

I climbed into the tub, which was big enough for six people easily, and sat on the next corner from her. We chatted and laughed and enjoyed the wonderfully warm water, and then she stood up and reached for the prosecco. That was the point at which I realised that she was naked. If it makes sense, I was shocked but not surprised. I knew from conversations with my mum over the years that time hadn't mellowed Wendy's naughty nature and that she still went through a huge variety of guys. 

I could feel my cock stiffening. Because of her small boobs, there wasn't much of a sag. Her tummy was flat, and while not toned, it was still a very fit body. She had a dark bush at the top of those fabulously long legs. She laughed as she caught me staring at her.  

"We don't generally wear anything in the hot tub or the sauna."

I wondered if that was the 'royal we'. 

"Mum and I, that is."

Obviously not the royal we then! Well, when in Rome, or here...

I stood up, took off my trunks, and threw them to the side of the tub. I was not hard, but I was certainly starting to get stiff, so it was the right moment to do it. 

We stayed in the tub for about half an hour, and I got my stiffness under control as we nattered, laughed, and enjoyed ourselves. Wendy suggested taking a sauna and explained that she liked to alternate between the sauna and the hot tub, and even that she had a cold water shower next to the sauna, which she found invigorating. 

I followed her out of the tub and into the sauna, and this was where it all went wrong. I'd been to nudist beaches before and had never worried about unexpected erections. It just wasn't a thing. Unless... I saw someone who I knew, but who I wasn't used to seeing them naked. Once, we went on holiday with my ex-wife's sister and her family to France. I'd never thought about my sister-in-law in any romantic or sexy way until she stripped off with my wife on a French beach that holiday. I couldn't take my eyes off her, even though she wasn't really any different from my wife, and I developed a huge boner which I covered by lying down on my front. 

I was sitting in the sauna, close to Wendy, looking at Wendy, who was no longer hidden by bubbles in the hot tub, and my penis started to grow. I tried thinking of other things to distract me, but my penis had other ideas. I tried putting my hands in front of it, but that just drew attention to the fact that my cock was fully erect. Wendy certainly noticed it. 

"That's not because of me, surely?"

But it was. 

"Sorry, Wendy, it's got a mind of its own!" 

"Well, you can see all of me, so I ought to be able to see you. " 

I moved my hands away, and my penis sprung sharply to attention. The head was dark red and best described as angry-looking, and the shaft was thick and hard. My cock is about 7 inches when erect, and it's one of the few things about my body that I feel has never disappointed! 

Wendy reached over to touch it...