Chapter 13

Grandma pushed me out of the house, calling me “Stud” again, but she was laughing. I found out later we’d overdone it a bit, and she was sore.

I thought about how smart she was, as I went back home, her cast wrapped in a blanket she’d given me so that the neighbors wouldn’t see what I was carrying under my arm. She had figured out so many things. She’d called Christy wrong, but that was about all. Rather than being unhappy that someone outside our immediate family knew about Mom and Randi, I felt better about it. At least now, I wouldn’t have to be so careful about what I said around Grandma Mona.

Aunt Vanessa, picking up on her mother’s claim of seniority in terms of scheduling the making of casts, had demanded to be next after Grandma. I had to go to class on the day she wanted her cast made, so our appointment was for the afternoon.

When I got there, she was dressed normally. What I mean by that is that she didn’t meet me at the door in a negligee or anything like that. I didn’t know it, but that one night with Uncle Danny had been all she could bring herself to look for. Danny didn’t tell her he was going to confess to Christy, like Christy had confessed to him, about me. So she still thought that her one night stand with Danny was a secret. She certainly didn’t know that I knew about it.

At the same time, the sexual excitement created in my photo shoot of her, when my zipper broke, and my purple helmeted warrior tried to come out fighting, had been further stoked by Danny’s thorough fucking of her that night. It hadn’t satisfied her. It had only awakened suppressed memories of what it was like to be satisfied.

Basically, she was as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. She’d broken the rules with her brother-in-law, which wasn’t that far away from breaking ... other taboos. And what I was to find out, was that she was a sex-starved female in the body of a woman trying very hard to be a good girl. It was for that reason that she had put on sensible panties, a nice thick bra, shorts and a T shirt.

That’s the kind of woman she was. If she’d have thought about it, she’d have realized I was going to see and touch her naked breasts, so that bra wouldn’t matter one whit. But, in her mind, she was “acting responsibly”, which cancels out common sense sometimes. At the same time, she had set this up so that she could get some attention, for a legitimate purpose. It would be wrong, in her view, to try to seduce her nephew, but if he had to put his hands on her for a good reason ... well ... that was different.

Anyway, she was nervous when I got there.

I was also nervous. This woman’s mother had suggested that I would have sex with her, and that I should knock her up in the process. I wasn’t so sure about the knocking up part - Mom and Randi had taught me to think about that - but I wasn’t averse to having sex with Aunt Vanessa. Not by a long shot. I knew she had fucked Danny. But you don’t just walk in and say “Hi, Auntie, how bout we strip to the buff and get nasty!”

“I hope you wore pants with a stronger zipper today,” she said. Then she blushed. I don’t think she meant to say that out loud.

“Uh ... yeah,” I said.

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked.

I had come here to see ... and touch ... her fabulous upturned breasts, not eat. Then again, those pink upturned nipples of hers had looked mighty tasty.

“Maybe later,” I said, thinking about those nipples.

“Oh ... all right,” she said.

It was easy to think of that as, “All right, you can suck my nipples later!” I felt the beginning of what would be a really nice erection.

She fidgeted some more, just standing there. “I suppose we should get started, then.”

“Yes!” I said. I handed her the kit, for some reason.

She looked at me blankly. She was prepared for me to tell her what to do, and I hadn’t done that.

“I thought you were going to help me,” she said, with a small frown.

“I am,” I said.

“Oh! Okay then,” she said. The look on her face changed to a look of anticipation. “Where should we do this?”

“Well, I’ll need water, and a washcloth to clean you up with, afterwards. How about your bedroom?” I had done all of these casts in a bedroom, so that was just what came out of my mouth.

“Bedroom,” she said, her eyes glazing over a little. “I guess that would be okay.”

She still didn’t do anything, so I went to the agreed-on location and hoped she’d follow me.

Her bedroom was very feminine, with lots of ruffles and lace and pastel colors. It smelled good too. There was a mirror on one wall that was so big that I could see all of both of us in it. I was really glad she had followed me, because I have no idea what I would have done if she hadn’t. I dumped the kit out on her bed and arranged things, in the order they would be used.

I turned around, and she was just standing there. I didn’t get the impression, with Aunt Vanessa, that she wanted to be ordered around. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because she just looked kind of lost, or something.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“This is kind of awkward,” I said. “I mean, you, having to get naked and all.”

“Naked?” her voice went up. “All the way naked?”

“No, not if that will bother you, but at least partly naked. That’s what I meant.”

“Oh ... of course,” she said. Then her voice firmed and she said, “Why would that bother me? We’re both adults.”

How about that? My Aunt thought I was an adult!

“To be honest,” I said, “I thought that because of last time ... you might be embarrassed about it.”

“You mean your ... zipper.” She said “zipper” as if it were a quickly substituted word for something else.

“Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t want you to be offended.”

“I told you it was all right,” she said, getting flushed. “I understand that happens to men.”

“Okay, good,” I said. “I have a stronger zipper, today.”

“Well,” she said. “That’s good, then.” She still hadn’t started taking her shirt off.

“Um ... do you want me to help?” I asked, helpfully. “Undress you, I mean?”

“Why would I need help?” she asked, her voice going up again.

“I don’t know. You’re just standing there.” I didn’t know what else to say. I mean we were just standing there. The kit was all laid out and ready, but nothing was happening.

“I’ll just leave my shorts on this time,” she said nervously.

Finally, she pulled her T shirt off. Her hair, which had been held up with clips, came partly undone when a clip caught on her shirt. I bent over and picked up the clip, which had fallen to the floor. Instead of giving it back to her, I tossed it on the bed, by the kit components. She was standing there again, in her shorts and that sensible bra. I reached up and pulled the other clip out of the other side of her hair, and it fell to her back.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“I like your hair down,” I said.

“Oh,” she said. Her hands went and her fingers combed through it. “Thank you.”

Again, I waited, just standing there. I looked at her bra, which covered most of her cleavage. Her shorts weren’t hip-huggers, and came up so high they covered her belly button. Finally she reached behind her and loosened her bra. She pulled one strap off her shoulder, and her other arm came up to keep the bra in place.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

“Of course I am,” she said, her voice breathlessly soft.

She pulled the bra off, almost violently, and threw it on the floor. She was breathing hard. Her upturned nipples, which had been bumps before, looked longer and harder now, but still looked soft. They weren’t as long as my mothers, and wouldn’t bend, like hers had. I wanted to taste one. They looked like some kind of small, sweet fruit.

She was facing me, and my back was to the bed, so I turned around and picked up the lubricant.

“I’m going to put this on first,” I said, trying to sound like this was all routine. “Once I get all the skin covered with this, then we’ll start with the strips that make up the cast.”

“Okay,” she said. Her eyes were pinned on the bottle in my hand.

“It’s easier if I do it from behind you,” I said, walking around behind her. I put a glob of lubricant in one hand, and reached forward to give her the bottle. “Hold that for me, and raise your arms.” She did. putting her arms up in the air, like I was putting her under arrest. It was when I looked forward, ready to reach around her and start, that I realized our images were staring back at us from that big mirror.

I started high, just under her neck, stepping to one side to get the opposite shoulder and pulling my hand across her upper chest, to the near shoulder. My wrist slid across her right nipple, which did, indeed, feel soft. It was different, because her arms were straight up in the air. “Bend your elbows, please,” I said, and she folded her forearms arms, so they were lying on top of her head. That wasn’t what I wanted, and just made it harder, so I just took one wrist, getting lubricant on it in the process, and moved it out to the side. She got it, and started looking like a goal post.

I went back to doing her shoulders, and then slid my hands down, pressing the sides of her breasts, and forcing them together. She took in a big breath and held it, and her back arched. I kept going, though, and did the area below her breasts, and she let her air out in a whoosh. That moved her lower body, and my hands went onto the waistband of her shorts.

“These are too high,” I said. “The cast needs to go lower than these will let me.”

“Oh,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Okay, then.”

She was still standing there, like a goal post, so I took that to mean I should remove them. I went around in front of her and knelt. Getting the catch loose, with slippery fingers, was a challenge, but her belly sucked in, and I got it. The top gaped open, and the zipper started down all by itself. I smelled ambrosia immediately ... the same ambrosia that had made a damp spot in her panties while I photographed her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice high. I looked up to find her looking down at me, her arms still rigidly extended. She was the most beautiful goal post I ever saw.

“Taking them off,” I said.

“Oh,” she said. She closed her eyes. “Okay.”

They were tight. When I pulled them down, her panties started coming with them. She must have felt it.

“Pat!” she said. I looked up. Her eyes were still closed. “My panties!”

“You said we were both adults,” I said, and pulled harder. Her bare mons was right there in front of my face. Her legs were too close together, and the material balled up between them. “Can you move your foot for me?” I asked.

“But... “ she stopped, and her left foot moved ... maybe three inches.

“Farther, please,” I said.

It moved another three inches. I looked up. Her eyes were still closed, and she was panting now.

“This is so embarrassing,” she whined.

“No it’s not,” I said, calmly. “You’re beautiful. You know that. I told you that.”

“But this...” she moaned.

I pushed her shorts down. I admit her panties might have stayed up, but I made sure they didn’t. She automatically lifted the same foot. When she put it back down, it stepped on her shorts. She moved it outward, automatically, which put her feet shoulder width apart.

Her pussy lips looked a little like my mother’s. The outer lips were fat and swollen, and the inner lips peeked out, squeezed between them, protruding maybe half an inch. They glistened. She smelled delightful, and my erection started leaking.

I left her other foot in the shorts, and got up to go back behind her. I reached for the bottle, took it from her hand, which hadn’t moved, squirted some on my other hand, and put the bottle back in her hand. I looked in the mirror. She was gorgeous, standing there, like a referee in the Naked In School program, in the process of signaling a touchdown. Her eyes were still closed.

I reached around and rubbed her abdomen. I watched my hands in the mirror, sliding all over her flat belly. Her hips reacted, moving backwards and pressing into my swollen prick.

“Ooops,” I said softly. “Sorry.”

“It’s ... okay...” she panted.

Then I slid my hands up and filled them with soft, upturned breasts.

“Ohhhhhh,” she moaned.

I didn’t say anything. I just ran my hands in circles all over her breasts. Like my mom, she leaned back against me.

“Ohhhhh shit,” she whispered.

“Aunt Vanessa!” I chided her softly. “Such bad language!”

I started working on those nipples, trying to get them to get harder. I pinched them, as well as I could, with slippery fingers.

“Why ... are you ... doing ... that?” she panted.

“The nipples need to be as hard as possible,” I said softly into her ear. “That way I can make the cast around them.”

“Ohhhhhh shit,” she said again.

That bald pussy screamed at me in the mirror. With her legs spread like that, her pudendum hung there, like ripe fruit. I couldn’t help it. It was impossible for me to keep myself from going too low, to that shaven mons, below. I slid one hand down and, suddenly three fingers were wet with something else slippery. I pulled them back up, over her now slippery mons.

Her hips crushed into my prick, and her eyes flew open, but her arms stayed right where they were.

“Pat!” she gasped.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I must have slipped.”

She turned her head, leaving the rest of her body exactly like it was.

“You ... didn’t ... just slip!” she panted.

“Okay,” I said, circling her breasts with my hands again. “I’m a bad boy, who can’t control himself, then.”

“You have to!” she said breathlessly.

“Okay, you’re right. We’ll put the cast on now.”

“Okay,” she sighed. She sounded almost disappointed.

I wiped my hands on the towel she’d gotten me, and soaked the first strips of cloth. I was watching her behind me, in the mirror. She lowered her arms, pinched her own nipples, and stepped out of her shorts with the foot that was still in them. Her panties caught on her toes, and she kicked them off. I turned around before she could get the idea to pick them up and put them back on.

I got businesslike, telling her what I was doing, and why I was doing it, and she actually relaxed. Again, I started on her abdomen, and worked my way up. When I formed the cloth around her nipples, she started panting again. I was to find out her nipples were very sensitive, and very dangerous ... to her, anyway. She was easier to do, because she didn’t sag at all.

While the cast set up, I got her to talk about my mother, when she was younger. She told me some stories, and I learned a little bit.

“I can’t believe you did this to your own mother,” she said, at one point.

“She was almost as much fun as you were,” I said, grinning.

“You’re terrible!” she said. “This is so strange. I’m standing here, naked, with my own nephew!”

“You’re not naked,” I said. “You’re wearing a cast. Your mother did the same thing.”

“She got naked?!“ she gasped.

“Don’t move!” I ordered.

“She got naked?” she said, more quietly.

I sensed an opportunity here.

“Yes she did, and she made me get naked too.”

“No!“ she gasped again.

“If you keep doing that we’ll have to start all over,” I warned her. Actually, the cast was almost set, and I wasn’t worried about it.

“Okay,” she said. “I can’t believe that, though.”

“Yup, she said if she was going to be naked in front of a young man, he had to be naked in front of her too. It was interesting.”

“She saw your...” She blushed. “She saw everything?”

“She’s almost as good looking as you are,” I said easily. “I can see where the Turner women got their looks.”

“You mean you got...” Again, she couldn’t say it.

“I got like I did with you,” I said. “I was embarrassed about it, until she said I was a fine specimen of a man. She made me feel pretty good. It was weird, but she made me feel pretty good.”

“Did she...”

“Did she what?” I asked, when she didn’t finish. She wasn’t finishing much, and that worried me a little. I sure wanted her to finish me. I was hard as a rock.

“Never mind,” she said. “I just can’t think about that.”

I knocked on her belly. I wanted to stroke her between the legs again, but didn’t.

“I think you might be done,” I said, like she was a cake.

“Thank goodness,” she sighed.

“Let me get that off of you, and I’ll clean you up.”

“Okay,” she said.

Her cast popped right off, again, I think, because she didn’t have any sag to her breasts at all. We both looked inside the cast.

“That’s astonishing!” she said.

“Only because you’re astonishing,” I said.

“You’re flirting with me,” she said softly.

“I guess I am,” I said. “I can’t help but get naughty around a beautiful, naked woman.”

Her eyes got a little wild, so I told her I’d be back. I went in the bathroom and got a washcloth nice and warm. I wrung it out and went back. She hadn’t moved.

“Why don’t you lie down,” I said. “It will be easier.”

“On the bed?” her voice went up again.

“I guess you could lie on the floor, if you want,” I said amiably.

She lay on the bed. I started at her shoulders, and worked her breasts over until she was panting again. Her stomach rippled, when I cleaned off her abdomen, and her legs spread. I think it was an automatic response, and not on purpose, but I couldn’t resist any more.

“I remember slipping,” I said, and pushed the cloth between her legs.

“Ahhhhh!” she almost screamed. Again, by automatic response, I think, her knees came up and flopped apart, opening herself up. Then they slammed shut on my hand.

“What are you doing?“ she squealed.

“Cleaning you up,” I said back.

“No you’re not!” she said, a little more softly.

“I guess I’m being naughty,” I admitted. “Let me be naughty ... please? Just a little bit?”

I punctuated that question by bending over and finally sucking one of those up-turned nipples into my mouth.

Her reaction was most satisfying. She let out a wail, and her knees fairly flew apart. I ditched the washcloth, leaving it on her mons, and slipped two fingers into her pussy. Then I rubbed for my life.

She was primed to go off, and it happened so quickly that I think it took both of us by surprise. She went rigid, and arched her back, and wailed loud enough that I was worried the neighbors might investigate.

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