He realized he was achieving erection and looked accusingly at Miranda, but she was in deep conversation with his father. Then he was aware of very light stroking of a foot in his crotch. Asking his mother what they would be having for dinner he reached down with both hands and jerked the foot. Miranda shrieked and grabbed the table to regain her balance, sending her coffee flying.
“Manda, what’s wrong?”
“Cramp, just cramp, Cynthia.”
“Can I rub it for you,” Brent asked, earning a glare from his wife who was leaving the table to get tissues to mop up the coffee spill.
At last Mark felt brave enough to eye his aunt. Instead of the ‘wait-until-I-get-you-alone’ look she winked at him. Oh God, he father probably spotted that wink. Mark wanted to run from the table but not with this erection – it was pulsating!
Half and hour later Mark was about to mount his racing bicycle when Miranda came up, kissed him on the lips and thrust something into his shirt pocket.
“What’s that?”
“A condom – wear it when you come to me tonight.”
Mark looked at her fleetingly; she didn’t appear to be joking. He looked at her boobs – far too much flesh was showing for a woman of her age unless being on the beach or beside the pool. He felt his cock indicating an interest so said, “See you tomorrow; I’ll stay tonight with Steve and Tubby Ritchie.”
“Mark, if you’re not here tonight I will punish you.”
He cringed as he heard himself say, “Yes Manda.”
Half a mile from home Mark stopped and took out the package to see what a condom really looked like. Girls had sometimes offered him one but he’d jumped back as if they were offering him cocaine. Inside the package was only a folded note: ‘Mark, please understand that I love helping you become a man. Jasmine is desperately in need of cock and I feel she’d rather get yours filling her rather than some other guy’s. Please keep on fighting me as I adore the challenge. I love to fuck Mark.’
It wasn’t signed. He placed the note against his nose wondering is she’d sprayed some of her exotic perfume on it. He grinned: that fragrance was definitely more like under-arm scent than French perfume. Then his smile collapsed when the truth hit him. The foul bitch. A little farther along the road his face creased into a huge grin. Wasn’t his aunt something!
—
After dinner Mark was in his room reading up on contract law when Miranda came into his room. “I’m going to shave – come and look.”
He bit back the comment “Shave what?” Watching adult videos with the guys had armed him with knowledge so he didn’t have to guess what she was on about. Mark gave her a minute and went into the bathroom. She wasn’t there but the door to her bedroom was ajar.
Miranda was nude, on her bed, with a battery shaver between her legs. The legs were spread incredible wide, like a gymnast doing some kind of splits. It seemed to push her pussy upwards and he felt sure if her back was subtle enough she could, well, lick it.
“Are you used to seeing pussy up close?”
Mark shook his head and she put down the shaver and invited him to take a close look. “You’ll become use to the distinctive fragrance in time; with luck you’ll come to adore it.”