Chapter 9: Lingerie Shopping Day

The morning after the kitchen counter punishment still clung to me like a second skin. My tongue kept tasting the salty-sweet tang of her soaked panties every time I swallowed, and my cock refused to forget the relentless stroke of her hand while she ground her dripping pussy along my thigh. I’d woken up hard again, the memory of her whispering “good boy” while she denied me looping in my head until I had to fist the sheets to keep from touching myself. Guilt twisted sharp in my gut—this was my step-aunt, the woman who’d moved in to “watch the house,” and I’d let her gag me with her own drenched underwear while she edged me mercilessly in broad daylight. But the ache between my legs only sharpened at the thought of what she’d promised last night.

“Tomorrow we’re going shopping ... and you’re going to watch me try everything on.”

Tara’s voice had dripped with that sweet, wicked promise as she’d kissed me goodnight, her oiled tits still glistening from my tongue. I’d barely slept.

Now, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows as I sat at the island pretending to eat breakfast. She came downstairs in a thin white sundress that hugged every curve like it was painted on, the neckline plunging low enough to show the deep valley between her massive breasts. No bra. Her long dark hair fell loose over one shoulder, and her bare feet padded across the tile until she stopped right in front of me, close enough that the faint vanilla-cherry scent of her lotion wrapped around my throat.

“Ready for our little outing, baby?” She leaned down, one hand bracing on the counter so her heavy tits swayed forward, nipples already stiff and pressing against the thin fabric. Her other hand brushed my thigh under the table, fingers tracing the outline of my morning wood through my shorts. “I need a whole new wardrobe to feel sexy again. And you’re coming with me to the lingerie store ... up close and personal.”

My cock jumped hard under her touch. I tried to speak but only managed a choked sound. She smiled that sweet auntie smile, the one that always turned wicked at the edges, and straightened up like nothing had happened.

“Finish your coffee. We leave in ten.”

The drive to the high-end boutique downtown felt like slow torture. Tara kept the windows down, summer breeze whipping her sundress up her smooth thighs every few seconds. She chatted casually about how lonely she’d been since the divorce, how she needed to feel desired again, but her hand never left my leg. It crept higher with every mile, nails grazing the inside of my thigh until her fingertips slipped under the hem of my shorts and brushed the leaking head of my cock.