My erotic Aunt FINAL PART

Alejandro goes to live with his alluring aunt Laura, a beautiful older woman. A story to read with one hand, delivered in several parts.

PART I /2026/06/story-52774
PART II /2026/06/story-52801

1

For the next three days, Veronica and Laura practically locked themselves in the bedroom. They only came out for brief moments to grab food from the fridge or the kitchen cupboard. The room had its own bathroom, so they didn’t need to leave for anything else. From the living room, Alejandro listened to everything with a mixture of fascination and growing frustration.

At times he heard intense sexual moans: Laura’s muffled cries, Veronica’s deeper sighs, the sound of bodies colliding, and the bed creaking. Other moments there was complete silence. Suddenly bursts of drunk laughter would erupt, quiet conversations he couldn’t quite make out, and then the moans would return. When the two women briefly came out into the living room to get water, vodka, or something to eat, it was clear they were drugged. Their pupils were dilated, they walked barefoot and unsteady, with permanent smiles and lost gazes. Their naked or semi-naked bodies showed bite marks, hickeys, and scratches.

At first, Alejandro was fascinated. He masturbated while listening to them or imagining what they were doing in there. But after three full days locked away, boredom and loneliness began to weigh on him. He felt excluded, abandoned. The novelty had turned into isolation.

He started going out of the house more. He walked through the streets of Gràcia and central Barcelona, thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks: the incest with his aunt, the pregnancy, the abortion, the orgy with Veronica… He barely recognized himself. He felt overwhelmed, guilty, and aroused at the same time. It was as if he had awakened a part of himself that had always been dormant.

One afternoon, overwhelmed by his thoughts, he entered a small, dark bar. He ordered several glasses of whiskey in a row. The alcohol hit him hard. He felt out of himself, as if he were watching his own life from a distance. He liked this dangerous, perverted version of Alejandro… but it also scared him. He no longer knew exactly who he was.

He thought about Laura and Veronica. About their bodies, their moans, about what they were doing locked in that room.

He left the bar with his head spinning and walked aimlessly until he reached a clothing store. He went into the women’s section and, almost without thinking, grabbed a tight, elegant, short black dress. He slipped into an individual fitting room and closed the curtain.

He undressed completely. His slim, well-shaven body reflected in the mirror. He had always been told he had a rather feminine face: soft features, full lips, and large eyes. He put on the black dress. The fabric clung to his body in a surprising way. He looked at himself from the side, from the front, turning around. He didn’t look bad. In fact, he looked… desirable.

His cock became hard as steel, obscenely outlined under the dress fabric.

There, locked in the fitting room, alone with himself, he felt strangely free. He lifted the dress up to his waist, looked at himself in the mirror, and began to masturbate with his right hand. He stroked his hard cock while staring at his own image dressed as a woman: his slim legs, his waist, his flushed face full of excitement. He moved his hand faster and faster, imagining he was someone else, imagining that Laura and Veronica were watching him.

The orgasm came hard and sudden. Thick streams of hot cum splattered the fitting room mirror and the floor. Alejandro stood there panting, looking at his reflection with a mixture of shame and deep arousal.

He cleaned up as best he could, took off the dress, put his normal clothes back on, and left the store without buying anything.

The city kept spinning around him, indifferent to his inner chaos.

2

Alejandro returned to the apartment with his mind still spinning and his body heavy from the alcohol and the masturbation in the fitting room. As soon as he closed the main door, the sounds hit him hard: Laura’s sharp, broken moans, almost screams of pleasure, mixed with Veronica’s deeper, hoarse, and savage sighs. He froze in the hallway for a few seconds, listening as the two women came intensely. His cock reacted involuntarily, hardening inside his pants despite his emotional exhaustion.

He slowly entered his room, closed the door behind him, and dropped onto the bed on his back. He stared at the white ceiling with wide-open eyes, breathing heavily. He felt a strong emptiness in the center of his chest, as if something had broken inside him. He was deeply confused, trapped in a constant emotional spasm that wouldn’t let him rest. His body was sweating slightly, and his hands trembled a little. He thought about how boring, gray, and conventional his sex life had been before arriving in Barcelona: clumsy encounters, quick and empty masturbation sessions, simple fantasies he never dared to explore. Now everything was a whirlwind of incest, abortions, orgies, drugs, and forbidden pleasure. He no longer recognized himself.

He fell asleep for a while, exhausted both physically and mentally, with irregular breathing and a tense body.

When he woke up, the decision came suddenly and clearly. He got up from the bed, took his suitcase out of the closet, and began packing his things with mechanical but determined movements. He put in his wrinkled clothes, documents, phone charger, and the little money he had left. His hands trembled slightly as he zipped the suitcase shut.

When he finished, he stood in the middle of the room, listening. From the main bedroom, the passionate and constant moans of Laura and Veronica continued. He could hear rhythmic thumping against the bed, drunken laughter mixed with gasps, and the wet sound of their bodies moving with lust.

He grabbed the suitcase firmly, took a deep breath, and left his room without looking back.

He walked past Laura’s closed door. The moans were louder now, almost desperate. He didn’t stop. He went down the building stairs with the suitcase rolling behind him, the sound of the wheels echoing in the hallway’s silence.

As he walked through the streets of Gràcia toward the train station, with a heavy heart and his head in a mess, he thought it was very likely that his aunt wouldn’t even notice his absence right away. Maybe she wouldn’t even care.

With the suitcase rolling behind him and a strange mix of liberation and sadness, Alejandro walked away from the building without looking back, leaving Barcelona, Laura, and all the chaos he had lived behind.

THE END