I’d like to say that I slept the sleep of the dead that night. I would be lying. I slept well although I did awaken several times, haunted by erotic dreams. I think I spent more of that night with my hands buried between my legs than I did with my head buried in my pillows. I also mulled over the effects of me surrendering to my desires might have on my friendship with Jen. She’s far from an angel. I honestly didn’t know and I honestly didn’t care at that point.

I was up with the sun, feeling refreshed despite getting very little beauty rest. I sprang up and left my bedsheets all tousled. I wished I had a maid! The weather report called for another day of stifling heat, followed by thunderstorms in the afternoon. That was perfect! I quickly showered and checked my body all over. I had some minor bruises from rolling around on the floor of my gazebo. That’s a downside to having pale skin—the tiniest imperfection shows like a beacon on your body.

I teased out my hair while singing Lita Ford songs, “It ain’t no big thing!” I then went immediately to my “fun clothes” drawer and then my loathsome panties drawer. A simple, stark black thong covered my bottom, well, barely covered it. Over that I donned a pair of thin white cotton shorts. They are cut similar to typical denim shorts but the material is light and wispy. I knew that if there was some decent light behind me that my panties would be visible. If Tommy has a thing for auntie’s panties, I’ll give him that, just like last night. If it rained then the effect on the opaqueness of the material would be interesting as well.

I covered my nude torso with an off-white, crocheted halter top. It is light and form-hugging, with very thin straps, one of which has this stubborn habit of falling off my shoulder. I love this top and wear it whenever I’m feeling naughty. The thinly knit fabric hints at being see-through, but it is an opaque layer that accentuates my torso and breasts. I actually think it is sexier than me being bare-chested. My pièce de résistance was my Grecian sandals. Well, I call them that, anyway. They are simple flat sandals with straps to hold them onto my feet. Rather than buckle, there are long thongs of leather that wrap, in a zig-zag fashion, up to the top of my calves. They are in white leather with goldish trim.

I went mostly without any jewelry as I wanted to draw as much of his attention to my body rather than my accessories. I did, however, put on a loose, gilded waist chain. I felt that it drew attention to my exposed midriff quite well without making it look like I was trying to get him to stare at my body. It also accentuated what little curve I do have to my hips. Plus, it matched my sandals, so everything went together well. I then tried and immediately rejected putting my hair into pigtails. I shook out my locks once more and let them hang loose, knowing that the humidity would quickly straighten out what little curling I can get into my hair. Some smoky makeup in green and gold hues finished up my morning ritual.

I opened my curtains and there, like clockwork, was Thomas working out. He was barefoot, with his tank top off and strewn on the ground beside him. His body glistened with morning sweat, and I watched him for a few moments as he squatted, bent, and stretched. I watched him from my perch with open lust. I teased my nipples until they were throbbing while I mused over the torture I was going to subject my poor little nephew to. I caressed my inner thighs and between my legs until my clit was rock hard. I forced myself to stop before I got all carried away once more. It was my day to tease him, not to tease myself into a sexual stupor.

Fully primed for my grand entrance, I sauntered downstairs and grabbed my morning coffee. I then let myself out and watched him finish up his daily routine. He smiled sheepishly when he saw me. I caught him staring at my erect nipples and the swell of my breasts molded by the halter top. I stared right at his crotch and drank in the sight of his manhood outlined by his spandex. I forced myself to look up to his face, my gaze first lingering on his well-formed chest and taut stomach.

“Good morning, Thomas. Sleep well?” He only nodded with his mouth almost agape. “It is so hot already,” I fanned myself, jutting out my breasts for good measure. “Put your shirt on and let’s head out to the wineries. We need to restock.”

“Err, um, let me, ah, shower first, Aunt K,” he stammered out. He quickly picked up his discarded tank top and quickly moved past me, holding it in front of him. I snickered to myself as he hurriedly entered the house.

I gave little Tommy a hard-on, I thought to myself. I waited about twenty seconds and then followed him into the house. I caught sight of him wearing a towel as he entered the bathroom. I had made him so flustered that he forgot to close the door. When I heard the water running in the shower, I climbed the stairs and took a peek. I was definitely throwing myself into the nympho aggressor role. I chastised myself for not choosing clear shower doors. I could only see the vague outline of his body. I spied on him—spied back I hoped—until I saw him wash his manhood. I then retreated so as to not embarrass him.

Minutes later we were headed out further into the countryside. The top was down (of my car), hair metal was blasting, and despite the heat, the sun wasn’t glaring in pale eyes. We rode for a couple of hours with the sky growing more ominous all the while. After a short and awkward silence, we fell into our now-familiar routine. We sang on and off to my music. For me it was more like on- and off-key! We joked, we laughed, and Thomas became his own self again; that is unless I tried to bring up sex or women. Every time I’d do that, he changed the subject or ignored me.

I also tortured the poor lad. I found every excuse to squeeze past him whenever we were indoors. When I was looking at something, I somehow always had my back to him, and he couldn’t help but see the way my shorts clung to my ass. He’d begin stammering again every time I did that. Finally I was getting a reaction out of him, many others as well. Men would hover around me, finding the most tenuous reason to talk to me. Thomas did, indeed, know a thing or two about wine. He could easily critique each bit he sampled. I discovered, in true rustic surfer-man fashion, that he really enjoyed craft beers. We made certain to stock up on those as well.

At our second stop, one guy, the wine steward, was laying it on real thick. He was in his forties or fifties and, to be honest, coming on way too strong for me. If you move me, you cannot come on strong enough; but if you don’t, then it just feels creepy to me. I was trying to be polite and give him the hint that I wasn’t interested, but Thomas came to my rescue by walking up close to me.

I grabbed Thomas and pulled him tightly to me, kissing him passionately on the lips, full tongue and full passion. I broke off our torrid kiss and said to him, “I hope you’re ready for round two later today, sweetie!” That finally gave Mr. Pickup Artist the hint!

When we left, bottles in hand, I burst out laughing.

“What the hell was that about?” Thomas asked me with a pained look on his face and a strained look in his shorts.

“That creepy guy was hitting on me, and he wouldn’t take the hint. You are my knight in shining armor!” I said to him between guffaws. “So if I do that again, just roll with it, please.”

“Umm, err, OK, I guess,” he stammered out. “It’s just that…” he cut himself off as we got back into the car.

We drove off as the sky darkened. “It’s just what, Thomas?” I pressed.

He didn’t want to say, but I wouldn’t relent. Finally, he gave in to my pestering. “I’ve only kissed a couple of girls before,” he confessed.

“What? How is that possible?” I lamented on his behalf. “You’re so nice, and charming, and hot! I figure that the girls would be all over you.”

Thomas pondered the floorboard as I took a turn way too sharply. “Well, erm. It’s just that I…I mean, ah,” he was really stammering now.

I put a gentle hand on his thigh. I heard his sharp intake of breath and felt his body jump as I did so. “It’s perfectly fine, Thomas. I’m sure your stepmom told you about how wild we were. I don’t judge; it isn’t in my nature. You can tell me anything.”

Thomas laughed then. “Well she did tell me that you are quite the ‘naughty slut’ in her words, not mine, Aunt K. Promise you won’t laugh?”

We were nearing our final destination. The sky had grown very dark with a fluorescent sheen. It practically made my white clothes glow. Coldness seemed to overtake the previously sweltering humid, oppressive atmosphere. “I promise I won’t laugh at you, but I might laugh at the situation.”

He paused. “I’ve only had like two girlfriends, ever. I made out with them once or twice, but that’s it. “

I almost retorted with a quip, but then the implications of what he just said sank in. “As in ‘that’s it’ you mean nothing else?”

“No,” he replied almost robotically.

“What about sex? I’m sure there were plenty of women in college that were more than happy to spread their legs for you.” I remembered how I behaved when I was that young. If you think I’m wanton now, back then I would have made porn stars blush. Yes, indeed. I would have chased him down back then and all but forced myself on him.

He paused, and his face looked anguished. “I got close once, but it ended badly. Besides, I lived at home all through school. I didn’t have much of a social life. I never really even dated.”

“Close once?” I queried.

“Yes,” he cried out. “She laughed at me!” He was practically sobbing. Now I like to think that I can reduce a man to tears, but not like this!

He continued without prompting. Once he began confessing, the dam just burst, so to speak. Maybe it was all the wine and craft beer he had sampled, or maybe he just needed to know that he wouldn’t be ridiculed. “I’m a freak,” he cried out. “I cum real fast, and it stays hard! The one girl that I thought would be the one made fun of me.”

I was going to ask him what he meant, but he just continued on.

“She took her panties off and we were kissing and petting. She undid my pants, and as soon as she touched it, I spurted all over her. She laughed at me and then made fun of the fact that it doesn’t go down afterwards.”

WHAT? I thought to myself. It doesn’t go down! I kept my thoughts of how impressive that is to myself and instead said to him, “Thomas, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve made grown men cum in their pants before. If she had any brains, she would have taken it as a compliment.”

“Yeah, Aunt K,” he replied. “But you’re hot!” I smiled to myself as he went on. “She wasn’t. She wasn’t even very nice.”

“Look. Thomas,” I soothed. “While I do find it hard to believe, there is nothing wrong with being a virgin. Having a hair-trigger is extremely common when you’re young and everything is exciting and new.”

He looked at me dumbfounded. “Really?”

I squeezed his thigh more as I nodded. “Yes, sweetie.” I swear I could feel his cock jump beside my hand as my grip tightened. “What’s truly impressive is that you said it doesn’t go down. Do you mean that you stay hard all the time?”

He chuckled then; it seemed like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. ”Not all the time,” he said. I thought I detected some pride in his voice now. “Once I get horny, it won’t go down for hours. “

I had to ask. “Even after you orgasm?” My mind was running into overdrive. My body was quickly catching up with my mind.

“Always.” He responded. “I masturbate…all the time, really…and after I shoot, it stays hard for hours. It doesn’t matter. “

I laughed and then had to interject as soon as I saw his expression change to sorrow. “I’m not laughing at you; I’m the same way. Once I get going, it doesn’t matter how many orgasms I have. I want more and more until I’m exhausted!”

It was his to turn to laugh. He thanked me for being “so cool” as we pulled in. A chill wind was blowing, and with the ominous sky, we pulled the top back over my car. A few drops fell as we did so, as a warning. We hadn’t taken more than three steps towards the sales-building of the winery when the clouds burst. A huge clap of thunder erupted, echoing off the landscape. With it came a torrential downpour that immediately soaked us to the bone.

It was less than fifty yards to the sales and tasting building, but we might as well have had to swim to it. The rain was icy cold, and I was immediately soaked through. I caught my reflection in the windows as we neared. My nipples could be plainly seen, and my halter clung to my body like plastic wrap, that one strap falling again. I hurried to the door and liked the way my breasts bounced up and down. As anticipated, my thin white cotton shorts became translucent cotton shorts, and my black thong might as well have been on full display. As pale as my skin is, it could be plainly seen in spots through the material. We wrung ourselves out at the door, and all eyes turned towards us.

Thomas looked so amazingly sexy that I considered jumping on him right then and there. His shirt adhered to his muscles and his shaggy hair hung limp all over his face. I admonished college girls everywhere, at that moment, for not knowing a good thing when they have it in hand. His old girlfriend might have laughed at him staying hard, but to me, that’s a treasure!

After we were done laughing and dripping, I sauntered up to the counter, noting all the men’s eyes were upon me. “Hiya Krys,” the manager said to me. She waved at me and asked what I wanted today. I leaned over the counter and pushed my behind out for good measure. My nipples were so cold that my areolas were even sticking out. A quick glance down showed me that it was obvious to everyone else as well.

I gave her my order, knowing which of their wines I liked the best, and Thomas dutifully carried the cases to my car, again getting soaked in the process. With a silent prayer of thanks to the rain gods, I paid and we left. I happily noticed that Thomas couldn’t take his eyes off me. Blasting the heat and the radio, we dried down and made it home. The rain let up its onslaught about half the way home.

“I’m sorry I said those things to you,” Thomas apologized. “I think maybe I drank too much. I’m so sorry.”

I became determined to keep him liquored up if that’s what it takes for him to get that weight off his shoulders. If there’s anything that should be on his shoulders, that would be my burning thighs! “There’s nothing to apologize for,” I shot back.

“Can I be honest here?” I asked. He only nodded. “I think it’s all pretty hot. I’m sure that there are thousands of real women, not girls but women, who would adore you and busting your cherry.” I didn’t add the dirty thought that I wanted to be at the top of that list.

We got home just as the rain let up altogether. I was still a bit wet, as was Thomas, but that didn’t deter us at all. It actually felt good to feel the cool water evaporating off my flesh. The day was mostly spent, so we decided to grill outside once more. This time it was merely burgers and grilled vegetables. The wine paired excellently. I was in a festive mood. I sipped my wine, and Thomas gulped his artisan micro-brewery beers with abandon.

I stretched and bent and twisted about the entire night, loving the feeling of his eyes roaming all over my body. He only did it when he felt I wouldn’t notice, but I did. I kept the pressure on by bringing up suggestive and sexual things. After his initial confession in the car, he seemed much more at ease to discuss his inexperience and his being “a freak”. Then he said something to me that really took me aback.

“Did mom ever tell you about the shirt?”

“The shirt,” I said slowly and tentatively. “Not that I’m currently aware of.” I filled my wine once more and sipped my water.

“Oh thank god!” he exclaimed.

I reached over and punched him in the arm for that. It felt like I had punched into steel. My thighs were getting as wet as the ground just off the patio. “Not fair!” I yelled in mock affront. “You can’t bring it up and then let it linger there. Now you have to tell me!”

Thomas paused and pondered his beer. He sighed; his chest flexed nicely as he did so. “Do you remember the last time you visited?” he began.

“Of course I do. That was, what, five or more years ago? You were barely sixteen then.”

“Umm, well, erm, ah, you, ah, left one of your shirts behind when you left.”

I remembered that! My favorite sleep shirt, another old concert shirt, went missing right after the trip. “I had wondered about that, so that’s what happened to it.”

“Well,” he continued. “I found it and kept it, until mom discovered it in my room.”

“So?” I asked. “That was thoughtful of you.”

He blushed visibly in the overcast moonlight. “Well, I, umm, used it.”

“Used it?”

“Yeah, Aunt K,” he said very timidly. “It smelled of you, and you always made me so horny…” he paused, then continued with uncertainty in his voice. “I’m sorry; I talk too much when I drink. I used it for self-pleasure because it reminded me of you.”

I had to turn my head to hide my smile. He pressed on. “Mom found it and screamed at me for hours about using my own aunt’s shirt to wipe up my sperm. Then she threw it out.”

“Oh really,” I said. If his wit, charm, muscles, and rugged good looks weren’t enough, now he just confessed that he had been stroking to me for years! To hide my very perverted thoughts, I just asked, “So no more shirt, then?”

“Well, I um, dug it out of the trash a washed it. I still have it at home.”

I laughed then. “Keep it; it’s yours.”

“Boy was mom pissed,” he mused, gulping his beer. I followed his example and gulped my wine.

We had a good laugh over Jen’s reaction, and although we didn’t speak any more of it, the tension hung thicker than the humidity. I yawned and stretched and announced that it was time for me to strip and go chill out for the evening before I went to sleep. Thomas nodded and announced that he was going to shower. I watched him go and then forced myself to count to twenty.

As soon as I hit my number-goal, I sprang out of my lounge chair and practically sprinted up the steps. I peeled off my top in mid-stride and pulled the cotton shorts off my body before I hit the top of the stairs. I had timed it almost perfectly.

Just as I got a few feet from Thomas’ door, it opened and he walked out wrapped in just a towel. His package looked excellent wrapped in terry cloth as well. I gave out a not-very-convincing shriek and pretended to be startled.

“I thought you were in the bathroom!” I exclaimed in mock surprise. “I’m so sorry Tommy.” I strolled past him, my arms not-really covering my nude breasts. As soon as my back was to him, I couldn’t help but smile. I gave my hips some extra wiggle. I quickly turned my head back and caught him with his eyes riveted on my ass. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

As soon as I go into my own room, I just stood there breathing heavy. I heard the door to the bathroom slam shut, and then the water began to run. I then stripped off my thong and threw on my newly washed gauzy dress, and left my panties on the floor for him to find. No need to make sure they were still damp; they were saturated. This time, rather than to go outside and finger myself into oblivion, I snuck myself into my storage room. It is another bedroom that I really don’t use. It does have a bed, but it is also cluttered with boxes of my things, clothes mostly, that I don’t have any need for at the moment. I left the door just barely ajar, hoping that he’d be too preoccupied to notice.

I heard him drying himself off and mumbling about what fool he had made of himself. He then plodded to his room. I heard the light click on, and then the door close with a click. I waited, and then waited some more. I was beginning to feel crestfallen. I thought that my constant teasing was nullified by our actual real conversations. I had blown it for myself! I decided that I should just call it quits, now that we were having real bonding conversations, and try to get some sleep myself.

Just as I let out a sigh over my own folly, his door opened. “Aunt K?” he called out again. I held my breath. I was too nervous and scared to move. I tried to quiet the beating of my heart, lest he hear it pounding in time to the throbbing in my body. I couldn’t see through the microscopic crack in the door, but I could hear him walk to my room. I had left the light on, once more on purpose. He took a step into my room, invading my private space in much the same fashion that I wanted him to invade my privates.

I heard him move about and then heard him begin to breathe heavily. I opened the door slowly and then took baby steps towards my own room. His body came into view. He was nude, on my floor, and his muscles were bunching up in tight wads. I was mesmerized. Two more steps, and I could see his face; well I could see him smearing my wet panties all over his face. He licked at them and moaned as he stroked. I followed his lead and stroked myself to his pace.

In less than two minutes, he erupted all over himself. Just like the night before, it was a huge geyser with spurt after spurt covering his entire upper body. True to his word, his beautiful cock stayed rock-solid hard. He rested for less than ten seconds and then started pumping his fist up and down the shaft again. I fingered myself with abandon while I watched. I managed to stave off an explosive orgasm and took a single step forward, forgetting all about being quiet.

My movement caught his attention, and he stopped and jumped up in a panic, his cock still bobbing up and down. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t tell mom! I’ll move out, I swear. Don’t hate me, please.” His face contorted in agony at being caught literally red-handed.

I suppressed a smile and had to remind myself not to be sadistic. “Thomas, stop blabbering.” I waited until he calmed down a bit and quieted down. He tried to push his erection down, and it just sprung right back up. I giggled at that.

I tried to sound stern, but my voice faltered. If he were more experienced, he would have recognized the passion in my tone. “Other than invading my private bedroom, you have nothing to be sorry about. Now sit.” I gestured to my bed. “I know that you’ve been sneaking in here and jacking off with my panties. From now on, if I leave the door open, then you are welcome to come in any time you want.”

He only nodded. “I’m so sorry…” he began.

“Stop it right now!” I commanded. “I won’t tell Jen, and I want you to stay. It is my turn to confess, now.” I waited until the signs of anguish disappeared from his face.

“I, ah, I can stay?” He asked.

“Yes, you can stay. Your mom told you that I’m a slut. I don’t like the word, but it fits. I love sex and just about anything sexual, and the thought of you stroking that thick cock of yours over me has me all hot and bothered. There’s no shame in physical release. I only have one thing to ask you.” I waited.

“Yes, anything. You sure you’re not mad? You don’t think I’m a freak?” Guilty men are so easy to control.

“If you’re a freak, then I’m a super-freak. I masturbate to Captain Picard, for the love of the horned god! I’ve been fingering myself to death since you first came here. I only held back because you’re sort-of my nephew, and I didn’t think you were interested in me like that.”

Thomas just pointed to his throbbing erection with the most innocent and boyish look on his face. I laughed then; I didn’t mean to but I couldn’t help myself.

I continued. “All I want to know is this.” It was my turn to stammer a bit. “Do you mind if I touch it?”

All he said was, “I must be dreaming.”

I sauntered over to my bed and knelt in front of him. My face was right in his crotch. He smelled of freshly showered fine man and cum. I moved his hands away from his manhood and then gently pushed him back on my bed. It still glistened with his orgasm fluid. I ran my fingertips delicately over the shaft and took delight in watching him writhe on my bed. My other hand instinctively flew to my own pleasure zone. I took my cum-coated finger into my mouth and tasted him. It was salty and slightly bitter, but it was like the sweet fruit of victory to me. I leaned forward just enough that I could flick the tip of his organ with my tongue.

As soon as my tongue made contact with the head of his cock he erupted again. It flew into my hair, on my cheek and shoulder and continued to spurt. It also stayed hard! He tried to stammer apologies and to get up, but I forced him back down. I took it in my hand and stroked it up and down hard and fast. My other hand matched my pace.

“Cum for me!” I repeated over and over again. I switched hands. “See how wet you’ve made me? I’m a freak, too!” I licked my juices off my fingers and then stroked him harder and faster. I don’t know if my orgasm triggered his or his triggered mine.

“Uh, again,” Thomas moaned out as I began to quake myself. We didn’t cum exactly in unison; I beat him to the punch. My orgasm was enhanced by the taboo forbidden aspects and the fact that I had fantasized about this for two weeks. I moaned and cursed and fell back on the floor. We just lay there for a few moments as I came down from the clouds.

When we were both breathing regularly again, I looked up. His cock had gone down a touch, but it was still hard. “No more sneaking around, OK?”

“I’m sorry.“ He apologized again. “I was afraid you’d hate me or laugh at me.”

“Now you know better,” I added. “If you want to stroke off to me, or even want some help, don’t be ashamed.” I looked him right in the eyes. “A healthy adult embraces their sexuality; they don’t hide it in shame.”

“I’m sorr...” he began.

“And stop apologizing for being human.” I looked him over. “Since you’re still hard, do you want more?” I couldn’t figure out why I was nervous about pushing myself upon him.

He looked me over, this time how a man looks over a woman. I melted inside. “Is it okay if we just sleep for now? I have a lot to think about.”

I nodded. “I guess we both do. No pressure, Thomas. Good night.”

I helped pull him upright and couldn’t help but to marvel that his erection still hadn’t gone down. If only all men were like that! He bade me a good night and promised we’d talk the next day. I sat there on my floor for a few minutes, wondering if I had done a good thing for him or totally destroyed not only our relationship, but the one between me and Jen as well.

Covered in his spunk, I then went out to my gazebo to reflect on the day’s events. I took out my lust on myself beneath the clouded midnight sky and rubbed his spunk into my skin. I had fantasized about how amazing it could be but discovered that things didn’t exactly align with the fantasy. No matter what I did, though, I couldn’t get that extremely thick cock of his out of my mind. Yes, he was a literal minute man with a hair-trigger; but it stayed hard! The thought of a man that could keep it up as long as I needed was an enticing goddess-send.

Somewhere between my third and fifth orgasm, I thought I heard somebody moving around the bushes again. I looked and moaned and played to “my audience” but I didn’t see anyone or hear anything after that. Of course, by that time my moans would have drowned out the sound of a jet engine.

I went inside after breaking the world’s record for self-induced orgasms and didn’t even bother to clean up. The smell of his juice on my body haunted my attempts at sleep for some time. I finally drifted off to sleep and had torrid sex-filled dreams. When I woke up to prepare for my day at work, he was already gone. I checked his room, and he hadn’t packed in preparation for moving out, so that was good. I went to my store and pondered if I had unleashed the beast or sown my own fate. I’d soon find out.

I only received a single message from him during the day. “Part is in, do you want me to put it in tonight?”

“YES!” I replied immediately, breaking all the rules of texting. “I want you to put it in so bad.” I wondered if he knew I wasn’t talking about the part for my air conditioner.

I still couldn’t believe his virginal confession. At least that was a problem I felt I could help to rectify. I just needed to be certain that I didn’t scare him off. Men are odd that way. They always fantasize about a wanton, sexual lady and then run away screaming as soon as one confronts them! I’d have to play it demure for a while.

I had to laugh at the thought of that. Me, demure? I thought about what to do and then what to wear. I had the perfect ensemble in mind. A sheer pale green dress with nothing on underneath. Yes, I thought to myself. Very demure.