11 comments/  39146 views/  22 favorites

Together with Troy Ch. 01

By: k_oliver



It was the champagne. Sure, it's a symbol of gaiety, but not for me. I always get sad with champagne. No, it was the wedding. Seeing my older brother's daughter getting married reminded me of my own wedding and of the intervening years. That's why women weep at weddings; I'm a great weeper. Actually, it was my own marriage that had fallen apart that led to this, my husband run off, my daughter and son pulled away by conflicted allegiances, and a possible future of aloneness for me. And then the bastard had the temerity to show up for his niece's marriage ceremony.

Face facts, Lori. It was all that stuff. None of it excuses you, so don't even think explaining is going to make it go away. You're naked in bed with your nephew. His cum is leaking out of your cunt. Even now his insidious sperm may be swimming towards your egg and in a few minutes you'll be pregnant. Do you really think any explanation is going to fix this? Like hell.

It was a beautiful wedding. It wasn't the largest wedding, but it may have been the prettiest. Trayne was as radiant as a bride could be. The groom was resplendent in his uniform. They were so obviously in love that it brought pangs of envy to many of the females in the congregation, yours truly included. The attendants were stunning. The chapel was redolent with the flowers of spring. As the early afternoon sun sparkled through the stained glass windows, a fortuitous shaft of ruby streamed down to light the united couple. More tears and sobs burst out.

At the reception, I certainly had a bit too much champagne. I knew how it would hit me, but I'd decided to enjoy myself. I deserved a chance to let my hair down. Not get looped, mind you, or even a shade more than tipsy, just nicely giggly. The weeps would come, but I'd handle them later.

As the reception went on and the band started up, men asked me to dance. I accepted every request. I like being in a man's arms. It didn't matter who the man was. There was nothing improper. I didn't lead anyone on, didn't even flirt, just danced. And kept full my glass.

My niece and her husband slipped away right after the cake ceremony, on their way to Cozumel. As guests departed, as things wound down, I had a quiet cry with my sister. Yes, the bubbly was winning. We were closer than usual, almost sisters. Her mother, her sister, and my mom joined us and we had a good old fashioned cry. The men-folk couldn't do anything but stare and wonder before going back to conversations about golf, baseball, hunting, whatever guys talk about when their women have shut them out beyond a veil of genderness.

About dark, the band quit playing. They packed away their instruments and amplifiers. They trucked everything to their two battered vans. A few hard partiers hung around but the keg was floating and most of the booze was depleted, so they drifted away. All that were left were family. The reception hall didn't need a complete cleaning, but we straightened things up.

Before the family sat down for a final reckoning on the day, my daughter caught up with me.

"Are you OK, mom?" Angie asked as she steered me to a folding chair. She had brought a half empty bottle of champagne. I thought that was sweet of her. She's really a darling daughter, couldn't ask for better. 

Standard response to that question is "Do I look like something is wrong?" so I made it.

Angie bubbled up our glasses. She sipped.

"You don't drink."

"I'm a closet lush," I confided. "I don't like drinking in public."

"Mom! Be serious."

"OK." I pecked her cheek.

"I liked seeing you dance. You ought to get out and date some. Find a man." Her eyes leveled at me. She had her father's eyes. I thought I was going to choke up, but I composed myself.

"It's been over a year since dad left."

"Yeah, hasn't it!"

"You know you turn guys' heads. You're hot, mom. Get a man, damn it."

"There's not much chance of that here, is there?"

"You know what I mean."

"I know, dear. I'm just giving you a hard time."

Angie refilled our partially empty glasses and set the dead soldier on the floor between us. "I was thinking about going with Lee, but don't want to leave you here if you're not all right."

"I'm fine," I insisted. "You go and have a good time. Don't worry."

"I don't want you driving drunk."

"Honey, it's just champagne. Besides, if I feel I can't handle the car, I'll let Troy drive. He has his license."

"His learner's permit," Angie corrected.

"He's legal if there's an adult in the front seat. And it's not like we're driving to Colorado in the middle of winter. It's not ten miles to the house. You go and have some fun."

"You're sure?"

"Of course. And now that you and Lee have seen how nice a wedding can be, maybe y'all can start planning."

"I get the hint, mom."

"That wasn't a hint, honey."

She gave me a quick kiss and hurried to her beau. Lee was a good fellow, smart as a whip, mildly ambitious, and would make a good son. He waved to me as he led my only daughter out into the soft night.

It was time to stifle another sob, I decided, and almost succeeded. 

I went to find my sister.

***

Liz was having a cigarette just outside the back door. She had quit smoking a year ago, but the pressure of the wedding had driven her back to the habit. Seeing me, she took a final drag and tossed away the cigarette. It disappeared in a flick of red.

"Last one," she told me. "Damn, I'll miss them, though."

"You've got a lot of self-discipline. You'll give 'em up again."

"Self-discipline? Me? Hell, Lori, when I saw Mark and that fake blond show up at the chapel door, I could've killed him! What kept you so calm?"

"What, make a scene and ruin Trayne's big day? You know me better than that."

"Still-"

I put my arm around her. Closer than sisters, as I'd mentioned earlier. "Besides, I left my pistol in the car."

She smiled. "Yeah, right."

"Sure, it was shock. At least the suck ass had the decency to leave as soon as the ceremony was done. I'm getting over him. Really, I am."

"Yeah, right," Liz repeated, but this time she didn't smile. She knew you didn't erase 20 plus years with a simple divorce decree.

"At least the son of a bitch chose a good looking slut to start a new family with."

"A new family? Don't tell me..."

"Yep, at least according to Drake. They told him last week he was going to be a big brother. Or half-brother, to be exact. He told his sister, Angie told me."

"Fuck, I would've killed him."

"It can still happen, you know." Venom filled her voice. "Let me know when it goes down. I want to see him scream!"

"Sure thing, girlfriend."

"Did Angie leave already."

"Yep, her and Lee. Drake took off, too. I don't think he's happy with his father."

"Good. I like Lee. I think he's good for Angie."

"Me, too."

"Listen, I need a drink. Let's go find one."

So it was more champagne. Between my daughter and her aunt, I couldn't get away from the delicious stuff. It still tasted good, too. The bubbles were starting to tickle my nose more than they had earlier. That, I knew, was a dangerous sign. I would cut back.

"Listen, thanks for putting up Troy," Liz told me. He was Trayne's younger brother. "With the house full of family from out of town, there just wasn't any room."

"No problem," I assured her. "In fact, I was looking for him. I need to be heading out." 

"Last time I saw him, he was helping his dad with trash. There they are," she pointed. Liz waved them over.

"How you holding up, babe?" My brother put his hand on her shoulder and gave his wife a squeeze. Gary was a tall slender man, slowly building a paunch.

Liz sniffled, but smiled. She said, "I had my last cigarette."

"Good girl. Sis?"

I held up my empty glass. "And I had my last drink."

"Like hell. I want to have a drink with two of my favorite gals. Troy, go hunt up a bottle for your Aunt Lori. Hurry up, son!"

Troy grinned and left in hurry. He had been a slight boy and only recently had the reality of puberty set in. I knew my sister and brother were grateful. It was difficult having a boy his age who didn't need to shave. He was still slightly awkward, though. His long bones had really put on a spurt in the last year, his chest had broadened, and he was growing like the proverbial weed. He was already taller than his mom and would soon be able to look his dad right in the eye.

"Shit, Gary. I'm going to be blitzed."

"Troy'll look after you. Listen, sis, I coulda killed that son of a bitch."

Liz interrupted. "We already had this conversation, honey. Lori and I have everything under control."

"If you say so." The anger quickly disappeared as Troy appeared with a fresh bottle of champagne. How much had they bought, I wondered. I'd had a case already, I thought, and bottles kept reappearing like fecund rabbits from the hat of a vaudeville magician.

"OK, boy, do the honors."

Troy spent a minute working on the cork. The stopper, not cork at all, but a plastic toadstool, came out with a satisfying POP! He poured first for his mother, then me, and finally his father.

"I don't think," said Gary, "anyone will turn us in."

He grabbed a clean glass from among several on the table and gave it to his son. Troy poured carefully.

"That's it, OK?"

"Sure, dad."

I said to my nephew, "I'd like to be going in a few minutes. Is that OK?"

"Sure."

"Troy!"

The teen looked at his mother. He amended himself. "Yes, ma'am."

I smiled. "If you like, we'll stop for pizza on the way."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Ten minutes?"

He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes."

Troy went off to say good-bye to his grandmother and a few other adults. I made small talk with my brother and his wife before going off to say good night to my mother and her date. Mom reminded me that we would have supper together the next evening. Then it was one last trip to the ladies' room. I ran in to Troy on the way.

"You have your driver's permit, right?"

"Yep." Away from his father, he could be informal, even with his favorite aunt. 

"Here." I handed him the keys. You know the Honda?"

My nephew's eyes were bright. He knew what was coming next. "Yes, ma'am!"

"OK, get it warmed up. I'll meet you there in a couple of shakes." 

A sliver of moon hung low in the east. The parking lot was empty of all but a few vehicles. I had parked the Accord at the end, leaving room closer to the door for regular guests. In fact, I had parked next to Gary's big four wheel drive Silverado.

Troy was waiting for me. He politely held the door for me. I thanked him. He had been well brought up. As I buckled up, he spent a few seconds getting the seat and mirrors positioned just right. 

"Pizza sound good to you?" I asked.

"I'm OK."

Um, hum, right. I know how an eighteen year old can put away good pizza. He was almost as bad as a thirteen year old. "But I'm not."

I fished out my cell phone. There was a pizza parlor not far from the house that we used. I called them and ordered a take out. Extra large, bacon, black olives, mushrooms, extra cheese. 

He started up the car, hit the lights, and carefully turned on to the street. He was tense behind the wheel. We didn't talk. I wanted him to get familiar with the car. He was more used to wheeling around in a big truck. The Honda was a totally different animal, lower, sportier, quicker handling. There wasn't much traffic; the street was four lanes. 

I gave him directions. Troy became more comfortable behind the wheel. It was OK to talk about school. Troy had played on the frshman college football team, but needed to put some meat on his bones for the next season. He had made starting short stop in baseball. His grades were better than OK.

Our order was ready by the time we got to the place. We were only a few minutes away from the house, long enough to fill the car with the aroma of pizza.

I reached up for the garage door opener when we pulled in the driveway. It was a tight fit. Troy got it right, but it took some doing. He quickly came around to help me out of the car. I'd already retrieved the revolver from the glove compartment and stowed the weapon in my small purse. I had a concealed carry license, but didn't want to advertise the fact to my nephew that I'd been armed. Sure, he'd hunted and was familiar with firearms, but I didn't want him to know which guns I had or where they were.

"Almost forget," he said as I unlocked the door. He went back to the car and came out with two bottles of champagne. 

"Oh, hell, Troy," I said.

"It was dad's idea. There was lots left. He didn't want it to go to waste."

I was exasperated. Damn big brother. "Yeah, right. It's not like it goes bad in a corked bottle. OK, put one in the fridge and open the other while I get glasses and plates. I wonder if champagne goes with pizza."

Paper plates and napkins were in the pantry. I set the small table in the breakfast nook. I had some appropriate glasses, actually fifth year anniversary gifts. Damn memories, I thought. I set the glasses next to the plates. The place settings were incongruous. Not that I cared. Troy was barely 18. Eighteen year olds don't notice such things.

It didn't seem right to caution Troy about drinking since his father had sent the booze, so I kept my mouth shut about responsibility. Instead, I loaded his plate while he charged the long stemmed glasses.

"Hey, this is neat, crystal and paper!" 

So much for the perceptiveness of male teens. We sat across from each other and ate with silent gusto. As I had thought, despite his protests, Troy tore into the pizza. He ate six slices to my two. That was fine with me.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked between bites.

"Sure." I was discovering that champagne went very well indeed with pizza. I was on my second glass already.

"What's with you and Uncle Mark?"

"Nothing's up between us. He decided he wanted a new wife."

"Yeah, I saw her." He leered at the memory of her, caught himself, and concentrated on the food in front of him.

Damn shit, I swore silently at my ex-husband. Finding himself a sexy slut almost half his age and knocking her up. I forced a light hearted lilt into my voice.

"Oh, come on, Troy. Is she that hot?"

He looked up, saw my extended glass, and refilled it. His glass had hardly been touched.

Three for me, one for you, I thought. That was a good ratio for pizza and champagne both. He could have the food; I'd take the bubbly.

"Well, yeah."

"Now you're hurting my feelings."

"I didn't mean it that way."

I reached across the table and tapped his chin. "It all right. There's no way a washed up 40-something old dame like me can compete with some Playboy fold out."

He looked at me, shook his head, and said, "I think Uncle Mark's crazy."

I blushed. I swear I hadn't been fishing for a compliment. "Have you ever heard of the middle age crazies? Well, it hits some guys harder than others."

"This stuff is good," Troy said in a perfect non sequitur. He drained his glass, refilled it, and topped off mine. "Well, I think he's fucked up."

"He's got a right to be happy." Why was I defending that bastard? Maybe he did have that right, but didn't I, also?

"Maybe so. Uh, do you want that last slice?"

"Flip you for it!"

Troy's face fell.

"I was joking!" I pushed the box a few inches closer to him. "Don't mope, dope."

"Thanks."

I got up to put my paper plate in the trash. The breakfast nook turned under me feet ever so slightly. Sitting, I'd felt fine. Standing, I was a bit wobbly. Damn the champagne. I checked the clock on the microwave. It was only 8:30 and I was three sheets to the wind.

"Listen, Troy, it's still early, but I'm beat. It's been a long day."

"Sure, Aunt Lori. Don't mind me." He rose to help me clean up. There wasn't much to do except rinse out the glasses.

"If I'd thought I'd be flaking out so early, we'd have stopped and picked you up some movies. There won't be anything you like on TV." After Mark moved out, I had no need for the satellite dish and 600 channels that I never watched. I'd canceled the contract. I might watch the local news; otherwise the television was a plant stand.

"That's OK, if you don't mind me using the computer in the study."

"No problem." I looked at the empty pizza container. I smiled, "There's food in the fridge and frozen snacks in the freezer."

He almost stifled a belch. "Excuse me. I think I'm OK."

"For an hour, maybe...Well, you know where the stuff is. I'm going to take a bath. I'll see you before I go to bed."

"All right."

In the master bedroom, I hung my pale blue dress in the closet. It wasn't one I wore often. My high heels went in their box and were put away. Pantyhose went in the bag with some other delicates. In my slip, I brushed my teeth. Drawing water into the large tub - large enough for two and hadn't that been fun! - , I sprinkled some oil and beads in the hot water. My hair wasn't long enough to need pinning up, so I just dropped my lingerie off to the side and settled in the water. 

I was tired but tense. I soaked, willing the water to ease away the pain I felt inside. Seeing Mark and his slut had upset me more than I wanted to admit. Goddamn him, I blasphemed, the sorry son of a bitch. Suck ass bastard to leave me the way he did. I'd never had a thought for any other man and he had the balls to sit me down one sunny day and explain how he'd been screwing a woman he'd met and he was now in love with her and wanted to start fresh. Twenty-plus years of marriage didn't matter to the fucker. 

Shit, it had been a year. Was I going to be bitter the rest of my life? I needed to start fresh too, maybe. Big maybe, Lori. I closed my eyes and tried to think of fresh starts.

No new starts were in the offing, so I soaked until the water cooled. Climbing out, I wrapped myself in a large towel and briskly dried my dripping body. I rubbed until my skin glowed with health if not exactly happiness. I pulled on a long lush terry robe and stepped into slippers.

I went to check on my nephew. As expected, he was in the study. Silently, I poked in my head. There was flickering light from the computer monitor and the crash of guns and screams of victims. Troy had found some on-line shooting game and was tensed over the keyboard. Fingers stabbed out quickly while one hand manipulated the mouse. While I watched, he shoved himself around in the swivel chair as if evading an attacker. More screams and bursts from the game. Troy cackled.

He punched a button and the screen froze. He leaned back, arching his back in a long stretch. He sighed. He reached to his left , found something, and popped it in his mouth.

"Killing them all?"

He turned towards the door and me. "Hi, Aunt Lori. Yeah, I'm blasting the suckers. I'm already up to level twelve."

I supposed that meant something. I crossed over towards the desk. His eyes narrowed. Suddenly, I was aware of my nakedness under the robe; there was a practical reason for that, but I wondered if he sensed my state of attire.

He glanced away guiltily. He indicated the plate beside him. "You said I could hit the snacks."

It held some jalapeño poppers he'd found in the freezer and microwaved. I smiled, recognizing that I'd been correct when I guessed that the pizza wouldn't hold him too long. Being 18, his belly was the proverbial bottomless pit.

"No, that's fine. That's why I buy them." I leaned against the desk and smiled down at him. I touched my abdomen. "I don't need them."

"There you go, putting yourself down again. You oughta forget that stuff and get on with things. Just because Uncle Mark got stupid doesn't mean anything bad about you."

My smile broadened into a grin. "Someday, in about 25 years or so, your son may say the same thing to you. If things go to norm, you won't trust him."


Together with Troy Ch. 01



"Bullshit."

"Maybe." I clasped the robe together and bent forward to kiss his forehead. "Listen I'm turning in. Don't worry about disturbing me. Stay up as long as you want. I'll let you sleep late in the morning and when you get up, we'll do lunch. We're meeting your folks and grandmother at La Papisserie at 6:30."

"OK. Goodnight, Aunt Lori. Dream sweet."

Oh, how I wished. "Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite."

***

After getting back to my bedroom, I hung the robe in the bathroom and dressed for bed. As usual of late, I wore a man's 3XL tee as a night shirt. After Mark had moved out, I'd worn sexy stuff to try to keep up my spirits. I'd carefully brush my hair and apply make-up as if I were getting ready to please a man. 

The effort hadn't worked, so I stopped. In fact, it made me feel ridiculous. Since the realization, I just got comfortable and hit the sack.

I didn't dream sweet. I didn't even sleep. I lay in the big empty bed and felt like shit. Seeing Mark and his wife had upset more than I would have thought. There was no reason he shouldn't attend the marriage of his niece; I just hadn't expected it. It wasn't, after all, a blood relationship. In my despondency and under the influence of the champagne, I thought that the son of a bitch had shown up just to piss me off. That, and to show off his wife. Shit, she was almost young enough to be his daughter. And pregnant! Oh, Lord! Sweet Jesus, what a bastard!

It's not like we had a terrible marriage. We had a nice home, two great kids, our careers. I wasn't a nag. I wasn't demanding. I was a great cook and good housekeeper. Mark certainly had no reason to complain about our sex life. No, I kept him satisfied.

At least I thought I had. I could still remember the quiet evening when he'd sat me down at the dining room table to tell me he'd been carrying on a affair for the past eight months and now wanted a divorce so he could marry the bitch. 

I was absolutely stunned. The recriminations didn't start immediately, but they didn't take long to get rolling. How could he? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with me? How had I failed him? What could I do to keep him around? What about the kids? What would I do without him? I lowered myself to begging. I'd do anything to save our marriage. Nothing I said fazed him. He was resolute.

After the feelings of loss came the anger. We had screaming fights. OK, it was me who did the screaming. Mark was so fucking calm about everything and that just made me madder. I got louder and more shrill. The realization that I was just driving him further away brought me to my senses. I became the super loving wife. Nothing was too good for my man. Hell, if it meant keeping him, I'd even let him have the bitch on the side. Just don't hurt me this way. Please!

In a week, he was gone. I got the divorce papers from his lawyer one week exactly to the day that he'd told me of his betrayal.

I hugged a pillow closer to me and fought back tears. I was too old for this shit, I tried to tell myself. Let it go.

Memories, good memories, kept crowding in. They were followed by the bad ones. I began to see-saw between sadness and anger. My mind was a whirlpool of the past.

Having to stop everything, I leveraged myself out of bed. I got the pills my doctor had prescribed for me after the breakup. With a glass of water, I took half of one of the pills. A whole one would make me loopy. Half would put me to sleep. I returned to bed.

An hour later I was still staring at the ceiling. Hell and damnation! I was getting angry again, this time with my body. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked like shit, tousled hair, haggard face, crazy eyes.

Enough is enough, I decided. Maybe a glass of milk would help. If it didn't, I could always do a little midnight cleaning. Vacuum the house. Empty the trash. Wash the car and mow the yard. Paint the exterior trim of the house. Just a few small jobs that I'd been putting off. 

I remembered I had a house guest. OK, no vacuuming. I headed for the kitchen. The house was quiet around me. I was the only person awake in the whole world. Except for my fucking ex-husband who was, no doubt, fucking his slut whore of a wife right now!

Down, girl! You're doing this to calm down. Don't get upset again.

On bare feet, I padded down the hall towards the kitchen. I had to pass the door to the study. I was surprised by the pale glow that came from within. Troy must still be on the computer. I had thought he was in bed by now. I was obviously wrong.

I peeked in on him. The scene shocked me. What I could see of my nephew, his shoulders and legs, was naked. I could see the computer monitor clearly. He was flipping through thumbnails on the computer. He'd click on some of them and I could see they were pictures of naked men. He was using his left hand to maneuver the site. His right had was out of sight, but I could tell he was jerking off. Troy had gotten a pump bottle of hand lotion from the bathroom.

I tiptoed away from the door, back to my room. I was embarrassed. More than embarrassed, I was mortified. I'd learned something about Troy that I didn't want to know. And once the knowledge became known, I could never efface it.

I sat on the bed. I processed, as the current buzz word applied. Troy jacking off to pictures of cocks. He liked guys, obviously. Did Liz and Gary know? What would they think? I'd be crushed, at least initially, if I found out my son was homosexual. I'd adjust to it, though. I wasn't prejudiced. I worked with several and didn't mind and how prejudiced did that sound? Like during the Civil Rights era when even bigoted white Southerners would protest that they didn't hate nigras, some of their best friends were nigras, yeah like the trash men, the shoeshine guy, friends like that. 

OK, I know they like to be called gay, but I'd grown up calling them homosexuals and that's the way I thought. At least I didn't call them fags like some people did. If Troy was oriented that way, it was his life. It wasn't my place to tell his parents, either. I knew Gary and Liz would adjust.

The shock subsided. I faced a dilemma. Did I try to sneak past the open study door to get to the kitchen? Two trips, to the kitchen and back. I thought I could get away with it. Just remember to be ultra quiet in the kitchen.

I actually made it to the kitchen without any noise. I got a clean glass out of the cupboard and poured it full of milk. Also, I took a swig from the jug, something I'd never have done as a married woman. Divorce can be so liberating.

On my way back, I noticed the study was no longer silent. I shouldn't have stopped at the door, but I did. Foolishly, I looked in. I could clearly see the pix on the large screen. They flickered on the monitor as Troy thumbed through them. At certain ones, he would pause. I didn't see any pattern. Boys stroking other guys, solo masturbation, oral sex, anal sex, black, white, long and skinny, stubby but fat, mammoth, super gigantic, inhumanly humongous...The pictures came and went.

I leaned against the doorway. The move was partly from a weakness of my knees and partly to see better. I still couldn't see his cock. Although I knew I should get the heck out of there, I stayed. Although I should have been shocked to see my nephew beating his meat, I watched. Mutual masturbation had been among Mark's and my sexual activities. It had been a turn on to watch the son of a bitch shoot a heavy load from his cock as he aimed at me.

Troy was moaning slightly. His body gently rocked back and forth. The sound of pounding flesh was louder and quicker. The moans turned to incoherent words. 

I had to leave. I didn't go. I wanted to reach inside my panties and get myself off, too. I was so horny. I hadn't had a good soul-rocking orgasm in so long, I was ready to hire myself out to a college fraternity or find me a German shepherd or something, anything to get laid good and hard and often.

I may have made a noise. Maybe he just sensed my presence. Whatever the cause, Troy jerked around in the chair. 

"Aunt Lori!"

Fuck, it hit the fan now. I darted away from the door, back to the safety of my bedroom. I slammed the door and locked it behind me. I collapsed on the bed. Hell and damnation! 

Slowlyly I came to my senses. I realized that I wasn't the one being traumatized. Most likely, Troy was feeling a million times worse than I was. Do what you gotta do, girl.

I pulled on my robe and slippers.

***

Troy was sitting at the computer. The machine was shut off. He had pulled on his pants. His head hung low.

I made shuffling feet noises as I entered the study. I didn't want to sneak up on him again.

He heard me. He looked up at me. His face was tear streaked and his eyes were red.

"I can only imagine how you feel," I told the teen. I got a chair and pulled it a few feet closer to him without invading his personal space. "I'm sorry that I was watching you. That was totally wrong of me. I don't have any excuse."

"N-no, that's OK."

"It's not OK, honey. What I did was so wrong."

He wiped his nose on the back of his wrist. "You must think I'm a f-fucking perve."

"No, not at all. Do you want to talk about it?" Wanting to let the offer sink into his mind, I left my chair, went to the guest bath, and brought him a box of tissues.

He took them, blew his nose, wiped it, and made up his mind to unburden his soul. It was there on his face. He said, "I'm not a f-fucking f-fag."

"Honey, it doesn't matter if you are or aren't. I can't condemn you what your body tells you, won't judge you."

"No, it's true. I don't like guys."

I tried to decipher what he was getting at. 

He read my expression well. Troy explained, "I like girls, but they scare me."

"Scare you?" I asked when his silence grew a bit long. I knew that I had to keep him talking. "How?"

"The way y'all act. I don't know if a girl likes me or not. With the guys on the team, they're easy. Hell, it doesn't mean anything. It's just something we do."

"Masturbate in front of each other?"

"Yeah, and other things." His eyes pleaded with me to understand. I nodded encouragement and he went on, "Some of the guys, yeah, they like it for real, but the rest of us, we just go along. You know? Cory Thatcher says a hard, uh, a hard cock, doesn't know whose hand or mouth it is. Most of us just close our eyes and act like it's a girl. I guess he's right, but it's not like a real girl was, uh, was doing it. I mean, I think a girl would feel different."

"But they scare you."

"Yeah. Like, they tease a guy and come on, and you try to kiss them and they laugh at you. Say you don't know how to kiss, get your little sister to teach you and come back in three or four years when you know what you're doing."

I knew girls just like that. I had them in my classes. I'd heard them laugh about how they'd teased so and so. It was a game. I pointed out, "All girls aren't like that."

"No, but the ones who ain't, like Sabrina Brown, I mean, she'll fuck anybody. I don't want a ho like that. Or somebody like Melody Carnes who's saving it for her husband. With us guys, that's all it is, us guys feeling good, no pressure to do it this way or let him do that, it's just feeling good." His eyes pleaded with me for affirmation.

"I see what you're getting at." I was curious. I asked what he and the other team members had done.

He turned red as a beet and explained that the guys had started out in that grand old male tradition of circle jerks. These had led to beating off each other which in turn led to oral sex. He had been blown and had himself sucked off teammates. Some of the athletes had graduated to anal sex. Troy knew that was next on the agenda for him, but so far he had resisted. It seemed to him to be an irreversible act. Once he'd taken it up the ass, in his mind there was no going back. 

Suddenly, his eyes filled with tears and he dropped his head, sobbing. "I'm n-not a f-fucking f-faggot."

I closed the gap between us. I knelt on the floor and hugged him. Troy put his arms around me and clung there like a six year old. Crying racked his body. I made comforting noises.

"You're not going t-to t-tell mom and d-dad are you?" my nephew blubbered.

"Of course not, silly. You didn't do anything wrong. Like you said, it's just you guys. It doesn't mean anything." I laughed, "And those girls who scare you or put you down, they're probably as insecure as y'all are. Believe me, I'm a girl and I know what I'm talking about. We did the same thing when we were your age. Well, some girls did."

"You sure?"

"What, that I'm a girl?" The thought that I was a girl, a girl hugging a handsome young shirtless man in the dead of night, hit me suddenly. I also realized I wasn't dressed for this type of duty.

"No, that they're the same as we are."

"Positive."

He looked at me. He smiled.

"Have you ever been, uh, ever been intimate with a girl?"

"Not really. They won't even give me a second look." His countenance was truly miserable. "I mean, you know, we'd play doctor as kids, but those weren't girls. We were little back then and didn't know."

"All girls aren't teasers and hos and frigid virgins. Some of us are just a frightened as you. We have to learn to work through th-that f-fear." 

My mind shut down. My heart went into overdrive. I cradled his face in my hands. I kissed Troy. It wasn't an aunt's kiss, either. I let the heat build up slowly until our open mouths were glued to each other and I was sucking hungrily on his tongue. The kiss went on and on as we licked at each other's lips, as my nephew tasted my tongue in his mouth, till our breathing was harsh and strong.

I released Troy and sat back on my heels. I smiled at him.

"Was that scary?"

He shook his head.

We kissed again. This time, Troy reached behind and supported my head. His fingers played in my hair. He was still slobbering too much, but he'd learn, I was sure. I put my hands on his muscled legs, rubbing from his knees upward. My touch wasn't gentle. I dug my fingers into the resisting flesh. His quads tensed and eased. I moved my hands to his inner thighs. I made a circuit from there to his knees and back.

His fingers no longer played with my hair. His grip tightened.

I released his mouth. I kissed his bare chest. I loved hairy men, but there weren't any hairs in sight. I trailed kisses across his skin. He had both of his hands on the back of my head by that time. He kept pressure on it and the pressure was downward.

With difficulty - he was a strong young man - I lifted my face away from him.

"Aunt Lori, I -"

My finger against his lips stopped him. His eyes were wide, hot, urgent.

"I want," I told him, suddenly losing my nerve and having to start over. "I want you to go take a shower. I want you to take a good hot shower and wash every square inch of your body. Don't miss a spot. I'll know if you miss one spot, believe me, and I'll never talk to you again as long as I live. Brush your teeth. Brush them well. There's mouthwash in the medicine cabinet. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah...Yes, ma'am."

"I'll leave a robe on your bed in the guest room. Wear it. IT. Understand?"

"Y-yes, ma'am." He nodded to emphasize that, indeed, he understood.

"It's 11:47. At exactly 12:17 you'll be totally clean, teeth washed, wearing the robe I leave for you on the bed in the guest room, standing in here. Do you understand? Repeat it."

"I'll brush my teeth, be clean, wearing the robe you leave, at 12:17. Back in here."

"Standing."

"Standing."

"OK, it's 11:48. You've got 29 minutes and not a second to lose."

He hurried past me. As I got to my feet, I bet myself that he'd never moved with such alacrity off the football field or baseball diamond..

I moved quickly, too. I didn't want to think about what I was going to do. Knowing it was wrong, I let action take the place of thought. My plan had sprung fully into my mind and I had less time to get ready than my nephew.

First stop was the closet in the master bedroom. I grabbed a terry robe that Mark hadn't taken with him when the bastard moved out. I dropped it off in Troy's borrowed room. Next, I headed for the storage room off the garage where I found an old painter's drop cloth. I snatched it up. 

Back to the rear of the house. From the back of my closet I got an old blanket. I returned to the study, shoved all the chairs away to open up as much clear floor space as was possible, spread the drop cloth on the carpet, and laid the blanket on top of that. I turned the fluorescent desk lamp so that it shone directly up. I got four sandalwood scented candles out of the master bathroom, as many dinner candles as I could find, and placed them around the study. There were eleven candles in all. I lit them.  

I put one of my relaxation CDs - waterfalls, the crashing surf, and flowing rivers and streams, in the player. I turned it on, adjusting the volume so that the sounds were above a whisper, but wouldn't distract us from any conversation. It had a run time of two hours. That should be sufficient time to get us going, I thought.

I got the last bottle of champagne form the refrigerator, put it in an ice bucket, and dumped ice on top. I wrapped it in a kitchen towel and took it to the study. I also got my favorite aromatic oil warmer, set it up on the desk with a tea light, and poured unscented body oil in the dish.

With twelve minutes to spare, I took a quickie shower. I slipped into a red semi-sheer negligee Mark (that bastard) had gotten me for St. Valentine's Day a few years previously. Floor length, it was gathered at the back and tied in front, allowing a daring view of my bosom. The wrap that went with it was a bit transparent. The combination teased without being blatant. I slipped into high heeled mules that matched the red peignoir. Two minutes left me with barely time for a touch of White Diamonds behind the ears and in the valley of my cleavage and red on my lips.

I was standing in the study's soft light when Troy appeared. My nephew had lost his enthusiasm; he moved with caution. He wore one of my bastard ex-husband's robe, a plush pale blue robe he'd gotten on a Caribbean cruise one summer. The robe, bearing the golden crest of the forgotten ship, came a couple of inches below Troy's knees.

"Hello, darling," I greeted him. His eyes took me in as I added, "Right on time, I see. I'm glad you're punctual."

I stepped close to him. I took him in my arms and pulled him to me. His hands went around me. Even in his inexperience, he knew there was nothing between his hands and my body but two layers of thin nylon tricot. He had difficulty finding a place to put his hands. 

Indecision was forgotten when I tilted my face up and waited for his lips. His arms tightened around my waist as we kissed. One hand drifted lower and I slipped my leg between his. His erection was immediate. God, I was horny and his reaction only made me hotter. My fingers moved in the tight space between us, found the belt of his borrowed robe, and tugged it open. His naked flesh burned my finger tips.

We separated so I could strip away his garment. His lean, almost skinny body was wonderful before my eyes. He was a young god, not yet a man but ready in every way to attain completion. His cock jutted out stiffly from his hairy loins. Until that moment, it had been a plaything for only himself and crass young males. I would worship it.

"I love you," I whispered, dropping to my knees. I was proud to be the first woman to kneel at this altar. I caressed his cock with trembling fingers. It was a healthy six inches stiff as a board, a cock any man would be proud to wield, the sword of masculine power. I rubbed it against my cheeks. I jacked it slowly while cupping his nuts with my free hand. They were heavy.




Together with Troy Ch. 01



"Aunt Lori, I -"

"I know, darling." I looked up at him. His face was screwed up in discomfort, though his eyes went wide as I opened my mouth and took the head of his cock. My eyes never left his as I mouthed him inch by inch to the back of my throat. My taste buds were in heaven, having to go so long without contact with male meat. Fresh from the shower, he had a clean masculine smell that made me want to swallow all of him. His pre-cum seeped out of the piss hole; the taste almost made me cum right there and then. I savored it before swallowing the liquid.

I sucked, taking my time as I took him deep and released him. My tongue moved around his cock in my moist cave of a mouth. I would release most of him, all except the head, and hoover it with lots of lip action, before taking him down to the base where my tongue could work some more magic. At the same time, my fingers traced arcs over his ass, down his thighs, and across his abdomen.

Troy made strangling noises. Sometimes they devolved to mouse-like squeaks. He kept his hands on my head. Slowly he began to piston his hips back and forth. The movement interfered with my rhythm, but I knew there was no way to keep him still. It was the fucking reflex that men were born with. I went along with the thrusts, sucking and releasing as he allowed me.

The speed of his hips increased. His muscles trembled.

"I'm gonna cum, Aunt Lori. Aw, fuck, I can't hold it any more."

I'd already recognized the signs of impending orgasm and backed off the sucking. He grabbed my head harder and kept thrusting. I jerked away my face. His cock jumped out of my mouth and sprang up to slap his lower belly. It spasmed in pre-release agony.

He snarled. "Damn it, suck me! Suck me bitch. Fucking tease!"

I got to my feet and silenced his with a kiss. "Don't worry, baby. I'm not going to leave you hanging. But you have to learn what real ecstasy is. Trust me. I'm not a fucking tease. Lie down."

He didn't argue, he didn't complain. Troy reclined on the blanket. His cock stood up like a handhold.

I untied my wrap, removed it, and draped it over the desk chair. I posed for my nephew. The light from the upturned desk lamp, the light harsh in relationship to the candles, lit my breast from underneath and accented them, not large but firm, my nipples filled with lust. In the candles, I knew the ghost of my trimmed patch at my pubis was revealed to him.

He stared. I hoped I impressed him. A boy's first time should be special.

I checked the oil in it's warmer. The tea light had maybe another half hour to burn. That was plenty of time for what I had in mind. 

I told Troy to get comfortable. "Let me show you I'm not a tease."

I leaned at his feet and lifted one foot. I bent over his foot. I took his big toe into my mouth. I sucked.

"Oh, shit!"

Toes have lots of nerve endings. They love to be sucked. I went to the task with gusto. I worked each toe, singularly and in groups, with my tongue and lips. 

I tickled the soles of Troy's feet with my tongue before moving up his legs. I totally ignored his groin this time, passing it by to concentrate on his chest. Finally, I reached his lips. We kissed. Back at his chest, I toyed with his nipples. I also went down his arm, licking his arm pit. When I reached his hand, I lifted it in front of me. I sucked first the thumb. I made it an analog of what I was going to do with his cock. Suck, nibble, bite, lick, all around, all over. While mouthing his thumb, I kept my eyes glued on his. He was under my spell.

I repeated myself with each finger, tickled his palm with the tip of my tongue, bit him. Returning to his mouth, I kissed him some more.

He reached to fondle me. I stopped him, explaining that he would get his chance later. This was the time for me to dote on him. He was expected to lay there and love it. I stood. I grabbed the unopened bottle of champagne and the towel. I tore off the wire cap and foil. Carefully, I worked the cork lose. I knew Troy was mystified, but that was OK. 

"Also," I added, "this will be cold. Don't worry. I'll keep you hot."

He put his hand on my foot. He ran his hand up and down my calf. The sensation made me shiver. Damn, this was going to be good.

The cork popped free. I looked down at my nephew, tilted the bottle, and drank. Not much, just a taste. Satisfied, I went back to my knees beside him.

"This'll feel funny." I trickled some of the cold effervescent champagne on his abdomen so that it pooled in his navel. If you've ever done that, you know the cold and bubbling reaction on your skin will take away your breath. Troy was no different.

"Ah-h-h-h!"

"Now comes the fun part." I bent down and licked the champagne from the puddle. I spent some time making certain that I got it all. To get the last few drops, I had to suck them from his navel. I trickled more on his chest and my tongue followed. I licked, sucked, and tickled.

"Here." I drank some champagne, held some in my mouth, kissed him, and let the liquid seep from my mouth to his. When I pulled away, he raised up, his lips following mine. 

We repeated the sharing several times before I ran some champagne down to his groin. I licked it up, also, sucking the liquid from among his pubic hairs. The pubes was thick in contrast to the lack of hair on his chest. I sprinkled more champagne down there as an excuse to do more licking. I also poured some bubbly in my hand, wiped down his cock, and licked him clean.

Troy was trembling again. I squeezed the base of his cock and felt it surging. I squeezed harder, choking off the blood flow, and the throbbing eased. I released him.

"Do you like this?" I whispered in his ear, licking him and sucking the lobe.

"Please," he whimpered. "Fucking please."

"Don't worry. It's coming soon."

I stood, took a long pull at the bottle - I wanted to drench myself in it and let Troy lick it off, but I resisted, since I had more fun in store for him - put the bottle back in its ice bucket, and got the warmed oil.

"This will feel good," I promised. Kneeling beside him, I drizzled some of the oil across his chest. Experience told me that after the cold champagne, the warmth would increase his pleasure and desire. My long fingers worked the oil into his skin. I liked to watch my hands play across his flesh. I have long fingers, strong and supple from playing the piano and, occasionally in church when the regular organist took off a Sunday, the organ. My scarlet nails contrasted with his white skin.

I massaged him from collar bone to navel. His cock had sagged a bit while I rubbed his torso, so I also gave his thighs a lighter going over. That got his rod back up. I wanted to give him time to relax before returning to sexual stimulation. That would heighten his eventually orgasm. I wanted him to cum as he never had, before taking him to my bed and exceeding even his waiting orgasm.

"Is this good?"

"Aw, yeah!"

"Do you love me? Because I love you, Troy."

"Yeah. I ain't never felt like this."

I kissed the edges of his lips, his eyelids, his cheeks. I tongued his ear. I left a large suck mark in the meat below and to the side of one of his nipples where he could keep it hidden. I wanted to mark his neck, but that was just the wickedness I sometimes felt coming to the surface. That would be cruel of me. There was no excuse for a hickey on his neck; no lie he could make up would explain it to my sister.

"Do you want more?" I finally asked.

"Yeah, fuck yeah!"

"OK, but no touching. Let me please you. Your time will come later. All right?"

"Yeah, sure, anything, Aunt Lori."

Heat had risen through my body and now flooded every cell, it seemed. 

"You've never seen a naked woman? Never touched one?" 

"No." His voice was that of a small child. "Please let me see."

Sitting beside my recumbent nephew, I pulled the straps of the red gown from my shoulders. It fell to my waist. They weren't huge, but my boobs are more than a handful, still firm for a woman my age who'd had two kids. My nipples were hard and so dark they verged on black.

"These aren't yet for you," I told my nephew as I bent forward to kiss him again. I held my body horizontally so that my boobs, hanging down, barely touched my nipples to his chest. I shifted so my tits swept over him, grazing him slightly. The faint contact made me want to grab him, mount him roughly, and grind myself to orgasm. It took what little self control I still possessed to stop me and only then because I knew my final capitulation would yield an even greater orgasm.

"You come first, darling."

I moved into the V of Troy's spread thighs. His was ramrod straight. No longer would I deny myself it's taste. I kissed the flared head, licked the veined shaft, fingered the swollen balls. I tightened ever so slightly on his nuts before lifting them out of my way. 

I put my hands behind his knees and applied gentle upward pressure. He bent his knees, giving me room to lick his ass hole. My thumbs deepened the cleft of his ass so my tongue could reach the puckered hole. I licked. I sucked. I kissed. All the while, Troy was gasping. I looked up and saw that he had started to stroke his cock.

I slapped away his hands. "Leave that to me, baby. Aunt Lori is going to do that. I'm going to make you feel so fucking g-o-o-o-o-d you may not survive the night."

Chuckling, I returned my mouth to the cock that awaited me. Not using my hands, I held his erection straight. I sucked only the head and none too hard. Starting gently, I would build him to a peak he'd never known.

I kept him in my mouth, sucking in and releasing his head with a steady rhythm. As I sucked, I moved lower millimeter by millimeter closer to his pubes. My jaws began to ache. I was clearly out of practice, not having had anything but unresponsive dildos and vibrators in my mouth for a year. A girl needed to keep up her skills; I'd been remiss. I willed the tension out of my cheek and jaw muscles so I could continue sucking. Concentrate on your tongue, I told myself, and your lips. Let them take over the workload.

My fingers played with his button nipples as my mouth sucked. I relaxed my throat and swallowed him to the base. Through my lashes I looked at Troy. His body was arched and I couldn't see his face. His fists were clenched as his body jerked. The quivering beneath me changed, became even less steady. His hips began to thrust upward. I held steady and let him fuck my face. The time must be near. I'd teased as long as I could. 

It was time for the pay off. I let go of his cock. It was smeared with my lipstick along its entire length. I started to fist it.

"It's OK to cum, sweetheart." I shifted again so that my mouth was touching his ear. My whisper was low and harsh, my breathing not much better than his. "Aunt Lori wants you to cum. I want to see it. I want to see it spurt all over my face and you. I'll swallow the first couple of shots, but then I want to watch. 

"Then, you'll carry me to bed and fuck me, baby. I'll let you experience all the wonderfully erotic and nasty joys of fucking. Is that what you want?"

He grunted, an animalistic sound. He grabbed my hand on his cock and began to pump it. He knew the pace that would get him off the best, so I went with him. 

"I want my baby to cum so hard that he'll never think again about being a fag. I want him to treat me like an angel or a devil, like saint or a slut, however he wants, when he fucks me. My body belongs to him. My mouth is his. My cunt is his. My ass is his."

"AH-H-N-N-N!"

My mouth swooped down for the first geyser, my hand aiming his cock at my open mouth. The aim was excellent. It hit my tongue and the back of my throat. It was a heavy shot. The second was just as strong. The taste sent me over the edge into a small orgasm. I swallowed and moved aside as the third spurt ached up towards his chest. The fourth and fifth shot went the same way. The next was in my mouth, though, as I clamped down on the still geysering head and sucked. The salty heady taste rolled around on my tongue before I gulped down the thick jism. I kept sucking and swallowing until the balls were clearly depleted.

I sat back on my heels. Troy sprawled on the floor. Thick gobs of pearly cum shone on his flat abdomen and hairless chest. I licked up a couple of the gobs.

He raised his head to watch me.

"Fuck," he gasped.

"If that's a suggestion," I joked, "I concur."

"No, I mean that was fucking fantastic. Un-fucking-believable!"

"Oh I don't know. I've seen better."

"Bitch!" he laughed.

I caught up some cum on my fingers and made a production of licking them clean. I also offered a some to Troy. He sucked my finger without much enthusiasm, but he swallowed it all.

"Aunt Lori, I never felt anything like that at all. I mean, I never knew I could cum so hard." He repeated in a whisper, "I never knew."

I pulled my gown back over my breasts and snuggled up against him. Immediately his sweat started soaking the red gown. He put his arm around my shoulders. He kissed my forehead.

"Thank you."

"Your welcome. I truly enjoyed this."

"You did?"

"Yep, I love sex. And you may have guessed I haven't had any lately."

"But I never even touched you. You did all the work."

I explained that sometimes a woman just had to give. Well, not just women. "I came just like you did."

OK, maybe not "just like" he had, but my small orgasm was the best I'd had in a long time.

"Really? Shit." He obviously had a hard time getting his mind around the idea of mental orgasms. Finally, he added, "Fuck, you ought to date, Aunt Lori."

"When a girl's low on self-esteem, she doesn't much care for the dating scene. You see, Troy, some of the men I know are no better than the girls at your school."

"I guess I can see that. Sure...Uh, I guess I oughta tell you I love you."

"Only if it's true." I laughed. "But, otherwise, yeah, it's customary to tell semi-naked women who sucked your cock and swallowed your cum that, yes, you love them."

"Yeah, I love you, but shit you're my aunt. I mean, what about incest?"

"Papa Hemingway says if it feels good, do it." 

He had a puzzled look on his face and I realized that the writer was apparently unknown. What the fuck do they teach in school any more? Probably Women's Studies, Cultural Diversity, and Conflict Resolution. Maybe laudable as electives, but not much help in facing the world, addressing the true human condition, or explaining sex to a post-pubescent American male.

"Let's keep it as our secret, OK?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Darling, I'm still horny."

Troy perked up. "Yeah?"

"I want you to go take a shower. Then I want you to come to my bed."

"Why do I need another shower. I had one an hour ago?"

"Because you stink already and there's drying cum on your chest that I missed.we won't."

"But -"

I grabbed his balls. "You're not arguing with Aunt Lori, are you?"

"I guess not."

I climbed on top of my nephew. As we kissed, I felt his hard cock squished between us. God, I wanted to fuck him right there and then, but I resisted. My original idea had been to seduce him and suck him off here on the floor before letting him fuck me in my bed and I wasn't going to change plans.

His hands settled on my ass and he squeezed my cheeks. He put his arms around me as we kissed.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

*****

Author's note: This is my first submission here and I'm nervous about it. The next part is written and some of the third, but I want to see how this one goes down before embarrassing myself totally. Any and all feedback will be eternally appreciated. Public or private. I'm a big girl now and if the news is bad, I won't cry. Much.