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My Secret Life with Aunt Maggie Novel Cover

My Secret Life with Aunt Maggie

Living under the same roof was meant to be temporary, but for the lead in My Secret Life with Aunt Maggie, it sparks a forbidden attraction. As a young man residing with a woman he has always called "Aunt," the boundary between family and passion begins to blur. This modern romance explores a hidden domestic life where every look carries a secret. They must navigate complex social circles while keeping their connection hidden, risking everything for a love that others might never accept.
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Chapter 2

My aunt lowered her head and urged me, "Have you sent it? Let me see."

"Almost done."

Soon, the file was transferred. I handed her phone back to her.

Down below, I was about to lose control myself—I'd already taken out her stockings, planning to slip them on and take care of things the moment she left.

But my aunt showed no sign of leaving. She sat on the stool and started watching the video, her legs spread wide, one hand slipping beneath her clothes to toy with herself.

The sight nearly made my nose bleed. Lust clawed through my insides, setting every organ ablaze.

She hurriedly said to me, "Your uncle's still in the other room. I can't exactly watch this in front of him, can I? I'll just… take care of it here. Promise me you won't tell him."

I nodded eagerly, my eyes locked onto her damp lower region. Her tight panties outlined everything—a deep, wet crevice.

Catching me staring, she pretended to be angry.

"You pervert, where are you looking? I'm your aunt! Turn your head away."

Reluctantly, I looked to the side. But her intoxicating moans drifted into my ears.

Those sounds burrowed into my heart like a cat's claws, scratching an unbearable itch.

I secretly pulled out the stockings, slipped them on, and started working myself.

But it wasn't the same—nothing like the thrill of her squeezing me through the blanket.

I desperately wanted her to touch me again.

After a few futile minutes, I gave up.

My aunt grew more excited by the second. She stifled her moans, terrified my uncle next door might hear. But the more she held back, the more obscene her sounds became.

I was a man. I couldn't help turning my head to sneak a look.

And what met my eyes—her bare lower body.

She'd slipped off her panties. Her fingers worked furiously inside herself, and I could even hear the wet, gushing sounds.

It was the first time I'd ever seen such a sight. Dizziness washed over me.

Noticing my gaze, she even shifted her body closer to me, her hand moving faster.

She seemed aroused by me looking at her.

There was no holding back now. Summoning my courage, I asked, "Aunt Maggie… are you that itchy down there? Do you want me to help you?"

She looked at me without a word, spreading her legs even wider, her fingers moving faster and faster.

"Aunt Maggie?" I called again when she didn't answer.

And then—a fountain burst forth, soaking my bedsheets.

I stared, dumbfounded.

She collapsed weakly against the back of the chair, letting out relaxed, panting breaths. Her body glistened with sweat and sticky fluid, unbearably alluring.

I was painfully swollen, nearly bursting. I begged, "Aunt Maggie, please help me too. Even if it's just your hand…"

Calmly, she pulled her panties back on and said, "Don't get any crazy ideas, you brat. I'm your aunt."

With that, she opened the door and left.

I lay alone on the bed, the blanket tented high over me, my mind consumed by the image of her pleasuring herself.

She was so beautiful. Especially there. I longed to taste it.

After that day, touching myself lost all feeling.

The ache in my body only grew worse—I could only find relief through her.

A few days passed. I couldn't take it anymore. Waiting until my uncle wasn't looking, I quietly pulled her into the room.

"Aunt Maggie, that video I sent you last time… does it still do anything for you? Want me to send you a couple more?"

She gave me a sidelong glance and tapped my head.

"How dare you talk to your aunt like that? You've got some nerve."

I grinned sheepishly. "To be honest, ever since you touched me that time, nothing I do myself feels right. I've been aching for days. It's torture. Please, just help me out this once. Just help me finish."

Hearing this, she didn't get angry. Instead, she asked, "Oh? My stockings aren't doing the trick anymore? So you want me to take care of you personally, is that it?"

I rubbed the back of my head awkwardly. "Huh… so you knew all along?"

She crossed her arms and let out a soft snort. "You think I'm stupid? Every day, those stockings are covered in your nasty sticky mess. I have to wash them every single night."

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