Chapter 1

Ron sat in the bay window of his family's midwestern farm house waiting for his dad's return from the train station with his aunt. She wasn't really related. Aunt Pam was actually the daughter of Bill & Pat Martin, friends of his folks as far back as he could remember. He'd started calling her Aunt Pam when he was in grade school. His parents needed a week in New York City for the reading of his mom's Great Aunt's will. A great deal of money was in the balance. And Aunt Pam was to be his baby-sitter. There was no doubt in his eighteen-year-old mind that was what she was coming for.

'Why can't my folks just trust me to stay home alone, ' he grumbled to himself. He was eighteen and there was only one week before graduation, is what had him so upset. He'd tried. Lord, he'd tried. But no, he had lost that argument completely.

"I'm not forgetting how old you are," Mom said. "I just remember last fall when Dad and I went to visit Bill & Pat for a weekend. You didn't water my plants like I asked you to. You ate nothing but hot-dogs and peanut butter sandwiches. Aunt Pam is staying with you and that's that, young man."

'Shit', he muttered to himself. 'At eighteen, I don't need a nurse maid.'

When he first heard about his parent's trip, his imagination ran wild. He could bring his girl home, and once he got Debbie all alone, he was sure the things his eager body wanted to do with her would happen. But from what Ron knew, the lady was as much a prude as his mom. With Aunt Pam in the house there was little chance he would see his girl lying naked on his bed. He simply couldn't understand his parents' reluctance to give him the responsibility of caring for himself. But as much as he hated to, Ron was forced to face the facts. There was little chance of his getting his girl naked. This woman was not going to let him do a thing. Probably be a lot worse than his mom and dad when it came to his running around.

Wheels crunched gravel on the front drive. That had to be Dad's Rambler Station Wagon coming down the lane, bringing his nemesis. He would be expected to help bring her bags into the house and act like a gentleman. Car doors opened and slammed shut. Ron shrugged. He might as well put on a good face. He had lost his argument and there was no way to change it now.

Rising from the window seat, Ron hit the front door just as his dad opened it.

"We sure are grateful to you, Pam. Taking on this chore at such short notice. I just hope you and Ron get along while we're gone. He's a good kid, mind you, but these days he's all hormones."

"Don't even begin to worry about it, Mr. Throckmorton. I know Ron and I will get along fabulously. Now you and Mrs. Throckmorton get along with you. We'll do fine," she answered.

"Ron!" his dad called. "Oh, there you are. Help your Aunt Pam put her bags in the house, and bring our bags out here for me."

To do anything else would not have served him any purpose, so Ron quickly complied. The sooner he had them away, the sooner he might at least slip away to his girl's. What could Aunt Pam do about it anyway? He'd just have to be careful about what he did. The last thing he needed was her giving his parents a bad report when they got back. They really wouldn't trust him, then. Still, she didn't know exactly what he was, or was not, allowed to do. Ron peered over his shoulder at his twenty-six-year-old 'baby sitter' standing in the front room giving their house a look over.

'Maybe, ' Ron thought. 'Despite the light blonde hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head and the horn rimmed glasses at least an inch thick, maybe I can work something out.' Her dress made Ron think of feed sacks more than anything else. It was cut so that it completely hid her shape. 'What a loser! I almost feel sorry for her.' The way he figured it, there might be plenty he could get away with he would not normally be able to. He might just as well look on the bright side. He set her Naugahyde suitcases down in his folk's bedroom and hauled the first two of three of his folk's suitcases out the open front door and onto the porch.

"Ron, get that last suitcase out here and hurry." His dad glanced at his wrist watch. "Come on Ron, move a little faster, will you? We'll be late for our train. Joan, are you sure you packed my razor?"

Ron ignored his dad's impatience. Dad always got rattle-brained about time to leave for anywhere. He swept his dark hair out of his face and started back into the house. He nearly walked right into Aunt Pam.

"Hi." Ron quickly stepped to the side to avoid a collision. "Gotta get the last bag."

"Glad to see you, too," his aunt smiled.

Ron felt her eyes on his back as he strolled back down the hall to get the final suitcase. 'Well, her smile's friendly enough, ' Ron decided. 'Maybe it won't be so bad.'

"Don't worry about a thing," Aunt Pam was telling his mom as he came out onto the porch again.

"Quickly Ron! We've only got ten minutes," his dad hurried him.

In a rush of good-bye's, the adults hugged and kissed cheeks. Ron slipped into the back seat of the Rambler. With his driver's license so new he still carried his temporary, his folks at least trusted him to drive his dad's car back from the station so Aunt Pam could use it while the folks were gone. Gravel spun from under the tires as his dad pulled away. He wondered if he could talk his aunt into letting him use the car to take Debbie to a movie while his parents were gone. With wheels, maybe, just maybe, things would work out anyway.

After stopping at Goodson's Five & Dime for a coke, Ron returned to the farm. If he went out of his way to be nice, maybe the week would slip by faster. 'You catch more flies with honey, than with vinegar, ' his mom always said. The vision of his burlap-sack aunt came back. Fuck, but she was a loser. All that hair piled on top of her head in that horrible bun, and that terrible dress.

When he got to the house, Ron got the first of a string of surprises. Aunt Pam was already finished unpacking her bags, everything put away in his mom's bedroom. That wasn't what startled him, though. She was standing in the hall at the linen closet in the smallest bikini he ever saw in his life. Ron's jaw dropped. The two piece swim wear was so small, only the nipples of her breasts were covered. He wasn't sure they wouldn't slip right out the top if she moved suddenly. The bottom was only a string reaching between the most shapely set of buttocks he ever laid eyes on and strung low around her hips to hold a similarly tiny patch of hot pink in place at the junction of her thighs. The pins were gone from her long, blonde hair and the horn-rimmed glasses discarded, too. All Ron saw standing in that hallway was a very beautiful, completely stacked, woman.

"Where does your momma keep her extra blankets, Ron?" she asked, grasping the edge of the open closet door with one hand, while looking on the lower shelves of the closet for the blanket in question. Ron swallowed hard. Her round ass, for all intents and purposes completely bare, appeared to lift towards him as she dug lower into the bottom shelf of the closet. He backed up a step. 'God, ' he whistled silently. Now he could see between her slightly spread legs to where the strings holding up her bathing suit spread into that skimpy patch of cloth barely covering her pussy. He could even see the slightly lighter flesh where her body curved into a mound of curly, reddish-blonde pubic hair. The effect was swift and strong. His cock rose to the occasion, pressing out against the fabric of his pants, making an obvious bulge where it was trying to escape.

"Uh-h-h-h... On the last shelf on top," he got out. His tongue seemed to have dried and swelled, making talking hard to manage. Blood continued pumping into his cock. It throbbed in earnest, now.

"Thanks, Ronny," she responded, making firm eye contact with him from under her arm, as if making sure he was indeed getting a good look. Then she straightened and bounced up and down on her toes trying to see the top shelf. At each jump, the round fullness of her breasts bounced.

"Would you please give me a hand?" she asked in a small, soft voice. "I seem to be a bit too short to reach up there." She did not, however, back out of the way.

Ron moved up beside her, reached onto the upper shelf and pulled down a pink flannel blanket. The woman at his side lay her hand on his arm with such a gentle touch, he felt the softness of her palm. A clean, fresh washed scent filled his head. The crotch of his pants was getting tighter by the moment. But when Ron tried to step back away, she favored him with another heart-stopping look.

"My, you have grown since the last time I was here." Ron strongly questioned the authenticity of the innocent smile she offered. "We need to talk about some of the things you've heard about me in the last few years. But, that can wait, Ronny. Right now, I'm going out back to darken my tan. The sun's only at its best for a couple of hours each day, you know."

She plucked the blanket from the teenager's trembling hand and brushed past him heading towards the kitchen and back door. "What are you doing?" she asked over her shoulder. Her pouty please-say-yes look was not lost on him. "If you want to, you can come with me and rub some suntan lotion on my... , " she slipped a finger under the strap of her suit top, just above one, lovely breast, and sliding the digit upwards under the string, pulled it back onto her shoulder. Then, as if suddenly realizing she hadn't finished her sentence, she did so. "... on my back."

Ron ran a hand through his hair while visualizing himself sitting astride this luscious woman's back, his hands liberally coated with suntan lotion and rubbing every inch of bare skin exposed by her string bikini. 'Whoa!' he stopped himself. 'Aunt Pam, Ron. Aunt Pam.' No way was he going to take her up on that one. In fact, more than anything else at the moment, he wanted a bit of privacy and relief from the tension centered in his groin.

"I... I... I'll be in my room," he stammered. Fumbling with his bedroom door knob, he finally got the door opened and closed behind him. 'Lord, was I wrong about her, ' he thought.

Ron plopped onto his back on his bed and unzipped his fly almost immediately. A breeze from the open window fluttered through the curtains and he felt again Aunt Pam's hand on his arm. He pulled his swollen member from his pants and lightly stroked it. The snap of a blanket being spread in the breeze got his attention. His cock still filling his hand, Ron climbed from the bed and peeked out from the edge of his bedroom window. Aunt Pam, back to him, was bending over to straighten the folds and smooth the blanket out on the grass. She wasn't more than ten feet from his open window. Absently stroking his hard shaft, Ron treated himself to the sight of the woman's shapely buttocks as she bent at the waist. As he watched, she dropped to one knee, settled her suntan lotion into the grass beside the blanket, then slid flat on her stomach.

'Shame to waste a body like that on a lady who dresses in burlap, ' he mused. Ron leaned into the wall and settled in to watch.

The hot sun poured down on Ron's baby-sitter. Even without oil, the rich tan on her skin shone. Propping herself up on her elbows, she reached for the plastic bottle at her side. Her slender legs scissored languidly back and forth in the air behind her. She unscrewed the cap of the bottle, poured some of the liquid into her palm, and rolled to her back. Ron gave her his full attention. Her hands stroked the oily mixture onto the tight muscles of her stomach with an almost sensual slowness. When her head began to lift back with the arching of her neck, Ron ducked away from the window. Just in case. Pulse racing. A moment later, however, he was back to watching her. She had moved on to oiling her legs. She started with her feet and slowly worked her way up her body. As if tenderly caressing herself, she applied lotion to her ankles, her calves, her knees, and thighs. When she pulled her knee to the side to more easily reach the inside of her legs, her fingers splayed against her thigh, rubbing into her skin with increasing pressure. Her hands moved over her skin's surface, her eyes closed, neck once again stretched to lift her head back, as if telling a lover how much pleasure she was experiencing.

If it hadn't been before, Ron's cock was completely hard now. 'This is better than that porno. flick Danny found under his dad's bed, ' he thought. 'Aunt Pam's a real looker.' His hand continued stroking his fully alert member.

The woman spilled another handful of lotion onto her palm and lay back onto the flannel blanket. Slowly, she began spreading it up her abdomen, slowly, as if enjoying the feel of her own hands as much as Ron was enjoying watching her. Between the fantasy taking place outside on the pink flannel blanket and his own busy hand, his breath was beginning to catch in his throat.

Even as he watched, her hands reached the tiny cups of material covering her breasts and spread suntan lotion over the almost completely exposed mounds of flesh. Her hands circled and cupped her tits. Ron's mind imagined his own hands smoothing oil across those luscious melons, causing his breath to quicken until it rasped through his mouth. The feeling his hand created pulling against his rod made the blood course through his veins in an ever increasing flow. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer without coming. But how much longer could he get away with peeping at her like this, any way?