Chapter 1

In the summer of 1969 James Olsen, or Jim as his friends and most of his family called him, was 15, going on 16. He was a good looking teenager; a well set up young man. Wide in the shoulders and chest, narrow in the hips, with muscular thighs and calves, courtesy of miles of bike riding, lots of swimming, and many rounds of golf. He was not a jock though. He was more of a nerd -- captain of the debate team, contributor to the high school literary magazine and school newspaper, and a member of the concert choir.

In the small Northern Wisconsin town where this story begins, being a male in high school meant that you went out for football. So Jim was also on the football team, although not a starter.

James Olsen had hazel eyes and light brown hair that bleached out blond in the summer. His light hair went well with his deep tan. But he never thought of himself as good looking. If girls thought so, he was unaware of it. Unbeknown to him, girls thought he had a cute butt.

Having discovered the wonders of the male orgasm at the age of 13 Jim was perfectly content to make himself happy at any opportunity. He had the libido of a perfectly normal 15 year old boy, i.e. he was perpetually horny. As this story begins he had no girlfriend. He liked the idea of a girlfriend but he had no clear idea why. He’d seen pictures of women in Playboy, so he knew what a woman’s tits looked like, but this was before the bunny mag featured pubes, and, for Jim, the junction of a woman’s thighs remained terra incognita.

With school over until after Labor Day Jim looked forward to a summer of swimming, golf, hanging out with his buddies, and part time jobs cutting grass and doing odd jobs around town.

He had no idea that a simple phone call was about to change his life forever.

“James, would you answer the phone, please? I’m up to my elbows in dishwater,” his mother, Lily Olsen, hollered from the kitchen. She was one of the few who always called him James.

“OK, mom.”

Jim said “Olsen residence, James Olsen Speaking” into the black bakelite receiver just as he had been taught.

“Jim! It’s Aunt Debbie, how are you?”

“Oh, hi, Aunt Debbie. I’m fine. Do you want to talk to my mom? She’s doing dishes.”

Jim’s Aunt Debbie had been married to Lily’s brother Bob, who had died in a car accident in 1967 -- two years before this story begins.

“In a minute. I actually need to talk to you first.”

“Oh?” Jim wondered what Aunt Debbie could possibly want to talk to him about.

“Yes. I need some help up at the lake, Jim. With Bob gone, it’s tough to manage all the things that need taking care of around the cabin. Would you like to be my hired hand for the summer? You’d have access to the Chris Craft and we’d do some water skiing. There are lots of kids up here, and a golf course nearby. Plus, I’d pay you $50 a week.”

“50 bucks a week? That’s way more than I’d make around here.”

“So what do you think?”

“Gosh, Aunt Debbie, that sounds pretty good. I’ll miss my friends though -- we had some stuff planned.”

“I’m sure we could work out something so that you could spend time with your buddies -- they can come up to the cabin and visit you. You’ll have the boathouse to yourself, sort of like an apartment.”

At this point, I should describe “the cabin.” Uncle Bob had made a lot of money very quickly by patenting some new fangled electronic gadget, and had purchased a place on a pristine lake in Northern Wisconsin about 50 miles from Jim’s home town. Three bedrooms in the main house plus a 2 bedroom boathouse with a full bathroom and kitchen. Jim and his family had been frequent guests of Uncle Bob and Aunt Debbie, so he knew exactly what the accommodations would be.

“Wow, the boathouse all to myself?”

“Pretty much. My friend Susan and her daughters are coming for a visit in July, so you’ll have to share some space then, but other than that, it’s yours. What do you say?”

“Well, if mom and dad say it’s OK, it’s OK with me.”

“Good. Let me talk with your mother then.”

“Mom, it’s Aunt Debbie, and she wants to talk to you.”

Jim’s mother wiped her hands and took the phone.

“Debbie! How are you? It’s good to talk to you.”

Jim watched his mother for a reaction to his aunt’s proposal. She wasn’t frowning, which was a good sign. Jim’s mother, Lily, and his Aunt Debbie had been good friends since childhood. Lily had been very happy to see Debbie and Bob wed, and had been just as devastated as Debbie when Bob’s lovingly restored MG had been t-boned by a drunk driver in an El Dorado.

“Hmm ... What exactly would Jim be doing at the lake, besides sneaking down to the girl’s camp to see what he could see?”

“Mooommmmmmm”

“Oh, hush Jim, I’m just teasing. What Debbie? Paint the boathouse? Put the Chris Craft in the water? Take care of the lawn and gardens? Sounds like a lot of work. Well, I’ll have to talk to Bill about it but I think it’s a great idea. Are you at the cabin now? No? OK, I’ll call your house as soon as I talk to Bill. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

“Mom, do you think dad will say it’s OK? I’d really like to do this. I know the work will be hard, but it’ll be a lot of fun tooling around the lake in that big old boat (1946 Chris Craft inboard runabout).”

Jim had learned to ski behind this behemoth, and looked forward to being able to drive it around the lake.

“Oh, honey, I’m sure he will. Don’t worry.”

Jim went out the front door and down the street to a friend’s house to share the news. “50 bucks a week ... wow!” By the end of the summer, he’d have more than enough for that new 10 speed Schwinn Varsity he’d been looking at, plus a nice chunk into his college fund.

Meanwhile, back at the Olsen residence, Lily decided not to wait for her husband to come home. She dialed his office number and laid out Debbie’s proposal. He agreed, albeit reluctantly thinking of the loss of Jim’s free labor for the summer, but he couldn’t argue the fact that 50 bucks a week would go a long way toward helping grow their son’s college fund.

When Jim came back from his visit down the street, Lily gave him the good news.

“Jim, I called your father and he said yes, so I called Debbie and you’re all set. She’s coming through town to pick you up on Friday afternoon, and you’ll spend the rest of the summer at the lake.

“Cool! Thanks mom!” Jim exclaimed, giving his mother a hug. Lily noticed, and not for the first time, that Jim wasn’t a little boy any more. He was very rapidly becoming a man.

The next few days seemed to go by in slow motion. Lily washed and packed Jim’s summer clothes, and he put together the other things he thought he’d need, like his golf clubs and some books -- Jim loved to read.

Finally, it was Friday. Jim jumped off the couch when he heard a car pull into the driveway. It was a brand new Buick Electra 225, about a mile long, and weighing about 2 tons. His aunt stepped out of it, looking tiny next to the big red behemoth. Jim dashed for the door, but his mother had beaten him to it.

Lily and Debbie hugged, as sister-in-laws will, and then it was Jim’s turn for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and then an appraisal: “Jim, you’ve gotten all grown up.”

I should take a moment and describe Debbie Johnson. She was a tall and graceful 5-8 and weighed around 120 lbs. Long legs, blond hair, and blue eyes. She had a killer smile and a generally happy-go-lucky attitude, in spite of having lost her husband. She was 45 years old, the same age as his mother. She and Bob had had one son, who was older than Jim by quite a bit, Bill and Lily having had two daughters before Jim came along, and Jim’s male cousin was currently in France studying at the Sorbonne.

Jim knew that Aunt Debbie had been a tennis player in college and also played golf. Plus, she liked to swim and ride a bicycle. Jim had always liked his Aunt and was looking forward to spending the summer at the lake.

The three of them quickly loaded Jim’s luggage, golf clubs, and box of books into the giant automobile and the obligatory waves were exchanged as the big car pulled out of the driveway and sped away.

The drive to the lake was uneventful. Debbie stopped to buy groceries, and Jim loaded them carefully into the car. The trip took about an hour, and the two chatted amiably on the way. The only hiccup in the conversation occurred when Debbie asked Jim about his romantic life.

“So, Jim, I’ll bet a good looking guy like you must have a girlfriend by now,” Debbie asked, in a teasing voice.

Jim blushed. “Not really, Aunt Debbie.”

She laughed. “Oh, come on, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m not a jock, Aunt Debbie, and they get all the girls,” Jim said somewhat defensively.

“Well, they get some of the girls, but I’ll bet there are some who are interested in you that you just haven’t noticed yet.”

“But, I’m not really all that much to look at -- nothing like Billy Smith, our quarterback.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Jim. You’re a very handsome young man. Trust me, girls have noticed you,” she said with a knowing smile.

Jim lapsed into an embarrassed silence.

“Oh, Jim, I’ve made you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry. Please excuse an old woman’s meddling in your personal business.”

“Gosh, Aunt Debbie, you’re not old!” Jim exclaimed.

Debbie laughed. “Well, aren’t you a charmer. I’m past 40, Jim and that’s old for a woman. Men are always looking for someone younger.”

“That’s stupid,” Jim said with some vehemence.

“True, but sadly, that’s the way things are,” Debbie sighed.

“I just can’t think of you as old, Aunt Debbie. Old people are, like, well, gray haired, and walk with canes like Grandma Olsen,” Jim said, adding, without really thinking about what he was saying, “you’re beautiful and sexy, Aunt Debbie.”

He clamped his mouth shut, realizing that he’d given up one of his deepest secrets -- he thought his aunt was hot.

Debbie gave Jim a look and an odd smile before saying,” Jim, that may be the nicest thing anyone has said to me, ever. Thank you.”

Then, she switched topics, turning Jim’s attention to all of the projects she had lined up for him over the next two months. He was relieved. Debbie smiled inwardly -- things were going exactly the way she’d hoped they would.

On Jim’s second morning at the lake, he woke up early, and, as usual, he had a raging hardon and a full bladder. Jim staggered to the bathroom to take care of both problems. When he finally got his dick to settle down enough to let the piss flow, he sighed with relief and looked out the bathroom window, looking back up the hill toward the house. From this vantage point, he had a view of the balcony that jutted out from the master bedroom suite. As he looked out the window, he saw the sliding doors open. Then, he got the shock of his young life, when he watched as his aunt step out onto the balcony, buck naked. His piss stopped in midstream as his cock sprang back to full attention. Any feelings of guilt Jim might have experienced were immediately stripped away by the flash fire of his 15 year old hormone driven libido. He stood at the toilet and furiously stroked his raging erection while his naked aunt went through a series of stretching and bending exercises; her tits swaying, her pubic bush on display. At this distance, the details were fuzzy, other than the fact that she had blond hair between her legs, but it was enough. After just a minute or two of hard stroking, Jim shot a major wad, most of which hit the knotty pine paneling behind the toilet, while the rest ran down his hand and dripped into the toilet. Jim stood rooted to the spot, jizz dripping from his cock and fist, his mouth agape, his breath coming in gasps as he watched his Aunt,. Debbie bent forward at the waist, her ass pointed right at him, and began to do toe touching exercises, alternating left and right in a classic wind mill. Her legs were spread, and even at this distance, Jim had a clear view of Debbie’s crotch from behind. Her light blond hair didn’t do much to cover the goods, and he was treated to his first, albeit long distance, view of a real, live, human, pussy. His cock, which had never really softened hand, sprang back to full attention. Jim’s fist resumed stroking on autopilot, the remains of his previous load serving as lube for a second. Debbie finished her exercises and disappeared sliding her balcony door shut behind her. Jim’s breathing slowed and he looked down at his now softening cock still clenched in his cum covered right fist. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and cleaned up his mess. His mind whirled with a hundred confusing, conflicting, thoughts. Jim Olsen was a hot mess of confusion and guilt.

There was no confusion in Debbie’s mind, although there was a smidgen of guilt. She knew that the boat house bathroom window had a view of her balcony. She just hoped that Jim would wake up in time to see her show and that no early morning fishermen happened by (they didn’t). When she heard the telltale moan come from the direction of the boathouse, she smiled to herself. Every morning after that, Jim awoke at the same time and was standing at the toilet when Debbie walked out onto her balcony for her morning exercise ritual.

She’d always exercised, which was one of the reasons she looked so good at 45. But, she didn’t usually do it in the nude. That was for Jim’s benefit. Neither of them mentioned it. Jim didn’t realize that Debbie was setting him up for more than just a little voyeurism, and he sure wasn’t going to mention it to her. This went on for several days.

June 1969 was hot and sunny, and Jim’s standard work uniform quickly became a pair of ragged cut-offs and pair of soft soled moccasins. His skin turned brown and his hair dark turned blond in the first heat of summer. Sweat glistened on his chest and back as he worked around the place. On the day everything changed he was cutting the grass and didn’t notice that he was being watched.

Debbie stood in the kitchen, preparing their lunch, and looked out the window. She smiled as she watched the play of muscles under Jim’s tanned and sweaty skin, noticing his strong, well defined, legs, and his tight little tush, as he walked back and forth behind the lawn mower. Debbie hadn’t had sex with a man since her husband passed away and she was hungry for cock. Her frequent bouts of masturbation had become more and more focused on her young nephew.

Debbie’s reverie was interrupted by silence; the lawn mower’s roar having ceased. Debbie watched Jim push the mower back into the tool shed and head toward the boat house.

“Jim!” she called through the kitchen window, “Come on up to the house for some lunch.”

“Sure, Aunt Debbie, be right there,” the teen replied, quickly changing course and heading toward the house.

When he walked in, Debbie handed him a cold bottle of Coke, which he downed in two, long pulls, followed by the inevitable belch. “Excuse me! It’s hot out there, Aunt Debbie,” he said, somewhat embarrassed.

“Yes, I can see that,” she smiled, looking at the sweat running down his chest. “Come on into the kitchen and have a sandwich.”

They were soon seated at the kitchen table, munching ham sandwiches and potato salad.

“Jim, when we’re alone here, you can just call me Debbie -- you don’t have to add the ‘aunt’ part, OK? It makes me feel old,” she said, smiling.

“I don’t think my mom would like that, Aunt Debbie.”

“We won’t tell her. It will be our little secret. There’s just the two of us here, and I think you’re mature enough to be treated like an adult, so I’ll call you Jim and you can call me Debbie, OK?”

“Well, OK au-er-Debbie,” Jim stammered.

“Good, then that’s settled. Now, what do you have planned for the rest of the day? I see that you finished the lawn.”

“Well, if you don’t have another project to start on right away, I thought I’d do some swimming.”

“Great idea. I think I’ll go too. Maybe we can take out the Chris Craft and go for a spin around the lake. I’ve got a new swimsuit that I want to try out.”

After helping Debbie clear the lunch things, Jim took off for the boat house to change into his trunks. Debbie went into her bedroom, where a brand new bikini was laid out on the bed. Truth to tell, she was nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. So far, Jim hadn’t seen her up close in anything more revealing than the conservatively cut tank suit she usually wore -- her early morning exhibitions notwithstanding. She knew the bikini was a huge risk.

“Might as well be hung for a sheep as a wooly lamb,” Debbie muttered.

Stripping, she quickly put on the new bikini -- a French import in the latest style. The bottoms hung low on her hips and consisted mainly of two scraps of cloth held together with strings tied in little bows at the sides and the top showed plenty of cleavage. She stood in front of the mirror, and noticed a few pubic hairs sticking out along sides of the crotch of the bikini bottoms.

“Hmmm ... This will never do,” Debbie said to herself as she walked back into her bathroom. Stripping off the bottoms, she took out a pair of manicure scissors and quickly set about trimming her bush. The scissors pulled at the hair, and it hurt. “Shit. There has to be a better way to do this.” Then she thought of the barber tools that she had used on her late husband -- he used to love having her cut his hair, and she was good at it. Going to the bedroom closet, she reached up to the top shelf and pulled out a box of things that she hadn’t gotten around to tossing yet -- things that reminded her of who and what she had lost in that drunk driving accident. Out came an electric shear set plus a pair of barber scissors and a comb.

A few minutes later, her blond bush was ready for the beach. Jim was in for a big surprise, she thought as she gave herself one last inspection in the full length mirror. “Not bad for 45,” she said.

Men’s swim fashions in the late 1960’s tended toward “trunks” that weren’t quite “speedos” but also were not the sort of jam-shorts that we see today. Made of stretch material, these trunks were form fitting without being too revealing as long as the man didn’t have a huge cock or get a hardon.

Jim was waiting for Debbie on the dock enjoying the warmth of the sun on his body. He turned toward the sound of the screen door slamming and his jaw dropped. Jim’s mouth hung open like a beached pike as his aunt strode down the hill to the dock in her new bikini. For Jim, the sight was far more intense than seeing Debbie perform her morning exercises. She walked straight toward him, her tits bobbing a little, her long legs and ass well displayed by the low slung bottoms. His cock immediately snapped to attention, pushing out the front of his trunks. He was frozen, unable to think, hardly able to breathe. He blushed deeply and even through his tan his embarrassment was as evident as his erection.

It was too late to move or do anything, because Debbie had stopped right in front of him wearing a big grin.

“Well,” she said, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like my bikini.”

If Debbie thought her little joke would make things easier for Jim, she was mistaken. His horrified gaze went to his crotch, then back to Debbie’s smiling face, and then to the ground. He stood, silent, as if made of stone. He could hardly breathe.

“Jim? Are you OK?” She put her hand on his arm, and he flinched as if her touch burned. “Oh, Jim, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“B-b-b-b-ut, y--y-y-ou’re my aunt. I’m s-s-s-orry, aunt Debbie,” Jim stammered, suddenly close to tears.

“Jim,” Debbie said, sternly, trying to regain control of the situation,” I thought we agreed that when we were alone it was going to be Jim and Debbie. Now, Jim, look at me.” She took his chin in her hands and tilted his head up so that he had to look at her face. “There’s nothing wrong with you. That is to say, you didn’t do anything wrong. I am taking your reaction as a compliment. You’re a young man, and when you see something that arouses you, well, things happen. It’s natural. Don’t worry about it. Now, let’s go swimming -- last one in’s a rotten egg!”

Debbie ran down the dock and did a perfect can-opener into the cool, welcoming, water of the lake. Had she miscalculated? Perhaps Jim wasn’t as mature as he looked. Debbie thought her early morning shows would prepare him for the sight of her close up in the bikini. Clearly that was not the case. As she came up for air, she saw Jim still standing on the dock, head down, looking lost.

“Jim! Come on! Jump in and cool off!”

A cacophony of emotions raced played in Jim’s mind. His cock, which had a mind of its own, still tented his swimsuit. The rest of him had no idea what was going on. He had seen his aunt naked, every morning for several weeks. Why was this so different? Suddenly, he turned and strode to the end of the dock, entering the water in a flat, sailor’s dive. The ice cold water slapped his face and damped the fire of his emotions. He stayed under for as long as he could, kicking hard, putting distance between himself and Debbie, finally coming up for air about 50 yards from shore, gasping, catching his breath, treading water.

Debbie saw him surface, and swam after him through the. It was a spring fed lake, very deep -- like a crack in the earth that had been filled with cold clear water. The water was so clear that you could see bottom in places where it was 30 or 40 feet deep. Debbie had been told that there were places in the lake that were over 200 feet deep.

“Feels good after mowing the lawn, doesn’t it Jim?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jim had been doing some thinking as his aunt swam toward him. The cool water had cleared his mind a bit. He was only 15, but Jim Olsen had a much higher than average intelligence. His grades didn’t always show it, but he was, in fact, a genius. He was also fairly intuitive and his intuition had been working overtime in the last minute or two. The conclusion he’d reached was rather starting. His aunt was trying to seduce him, just like Anne Bancroft in The Graduate. He hadn’t seen the movie, his parents refused to let him, but he had heard about it and read the reviews. His uncle had been dead for two years. Debbie hadn’t remarried, and as far as he knew, hadn’t had any boyfriends. She was probably lonely. They were by themselves here. The meaning of her early morning exhibitions had revealed itself. It was a set up from the start. Jim knew that his aunt was wealthy, and it dawned on him that she could have hired someone else to do this work just as easily as having him do it, and they wouldn’t have to live here either. His cock, which had simmered down somewhat with the shock of the cold water, began to regain its tumescence.

Debbie reached Jim’s location and treaded water. Their faces were just a few feet apart. Debbie’s face wore a look of concern -- had she gone too far? Had she blown the whole deal; the seduction she had been setting up and fantasizing about for weeks? She knew she had to be very careful. The next few moments were crucial. Jim’s teenaged face was a neutral mask that gave away nothing.

“Are you OK, Jim?”

“I’m fine, Debbie. Sorry about going so whacko on the dock. I guess I was kind of embarrassed that I reacted the way I did.”

“Oh, Jim, that’s OK. I was flattered. A good looking teenager thinks I’m sexy. You made my day -- heck, you made my week,” she said, laughing.

His sudden grin was like a lightning bolt that grounded in her pussy.

“It was a dirty trick! That’s what it was. And I think you should PAY!”

On the last word, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her head under water. He made a quick move to swim for the dock, but Debbie grabbed him before he escaped. She got hold of one of his legs and pulled him under.

They came up for air, sputtering and laughing. Debbie slapped the water with her hands, sending a forceful spray right into Jim’s face, then she tried to swim away. This time it was Jim who did the reaching and grabbing, overtaking Debbie in just a few powerful strokes he wrapped his arms around her and took her under water with him, pulling her against his body, feeling the warmth of her skin against his own. His cock, which was rock hard and pushing out the front of his trunks, pressed into the small of Debbie’s back. Jim knew she felt it, and after just a bare moment of hesitation, she pressed back against him.