Scott, Male, 12

	- 4'8, 80lbs, beige skin, short brown hair

Aunt Carole, Female, 48

	- 5'11, 120lbs, beige skin, neck-length brown hair

Author's note: This story is the result of a contest I ran in October, 2017, called You Be the Star! I received about twenty submissions from readers, each of which would have been a fun story for me to develop. I chose this one, though, from reader Scott. His descriptions of the fantasy scenario, some of which were based on actual events, were excellent and included fetishes for elegant gowns and, especially, gloves, along with teasing of a boy by an older, affluent woman.

Originally, I'd intended to write a story only of five to fifteen thousand words with a single sex scene. Instead, the finished product weighed in at over thirty thousand and had several sexual scenes. Scott (the reader, not the fictionalized version of him in this story) was thrilled by the resulting tale and is eager to share his fantasy with all of you!

- - -

The years making up the 1950s, in New York City and The Hamptons, were times and places which remain vibrant and colorful in my memories despite the many decades which have passed since I was a boy rushing into puberty in those days. Some of the vividness with which I recall those memories is surely due to the way technology changed around that time. Color television was introduced and I was fortunate to have access, at times, to some of the earliest television specials which burst onto the screen in bright reds and greens and brilliant yellows, oranges, and golds. Where my memories before those days are fuzzy and blurred, a hazy grey when I try to recall them, those from the mid-50s are sharp and clear and full of sparkling shades of a million colors. I cannot forget how the women on the screen wore such beautiful dresses and gowns, how their hairstyles were so carefully tended and formed and highlighted as to appear regal. Those images have stuck with me all my years.

A big part of it, too, was from the way my formative years occurred in that period. I went from a curious, reserved boy to a more confident young man, a young man with urges and interests which, most of the time, I kept to myself and hid from my parents and friends. I had access to magazines which drew my attention. Not the normal ones young boys usually read, or even the special ones with women offering more skin than was prudent, of which I'd only heard rumors from friends, but instead I sought out Vogue and Harper's Bazaar and Vanity Fair and a dozen others, and within those colorful pages I found fascinating images of women in elegant gowns and dresses, hair curled and highlighted, and accessories which I'd never seen in my life at home with my parents. They wore scarves and gloves, fur coats and hose, hats both simple and grandiose. I was drawn to those women in a way I still can't explain. Before puberty, I think it was an interesting curiosity, pre-arousal of sorts, but as my body began to change and mature, my thoughts began to incorporate a lot of imaginary scenarios. Nothing sexual, not yet, but I could envision watching the women as they dressed in private, as they danced at big balls, even as they shed their clothing and relaxed in oversized tubs filled with bubbles and drank flutes of the best champagne while listening to records of playful jazz and big band rhythms.

I watched my mom sometimes when she didn't know I was there. Just through a crack in her bedroom door as she came out of the bath. I saw things which stirred me but it wasn't really sexual then. I loved watching her dress. The way she slid into her panties and then rolled on her hose, the care she took when she adjusted her bra and then slid on a simple country dress or even a more formal, worn-once-a-year gown. I could watch my mother do nothing more than push her toes into her high heels and I was fascinated. I think those fortunate moments watching Mom dressing led me to really enjoy the experiences I had with a different older woman the summer I turned twelve.

It was a time, for some, of decadence and glorious living, and while my home life was nothing of the sort, I was lucky enough to have the chance to spend weeks each summer, and sometimes in the spring and fall, with someone for whom glorious living and extravagant fashion and social revelry were part of her life. I called her Aunt Carole but she wasn't really related to my family. Mom and Aunt Carole were friends from an earlier time and they had been close over the decades. When Carole's husband passed away suddenly during my first year of life, Mom had gone to stay with her a few weeks to help her adjust during her darkest days. Over the years, Aunt Carole took a personal interest in me and often would let me stay with her for several weeks during the summer and on other occasions when my parents wished to travel or attend to things away from home. Unlike most children who were not invited on vacation trips, I loved being left behind. Aunt Carole was a woman who loved me without limit, and the way she doted on me over the years led me to be drawn to her with all the trust and love and admiration a young boy could possess.

Carole was well off, even by the standards of Southhampton in the 1950s. She had an apartment in the heart of New York City and hired personal drivers to take her anywhere more than a block away. Aunt Carole got invited to the most elegant balls and parties and celebrations. She knew Vanderbilts and Rockefellers, Roosevelts and Astors and Carnegies. I overheard Mom whispering to Dad one day that Aunt Carole had even had an affair with one of the heirs of the Mellon family, but I never knew if that was true. It really didn't matter. Aunt Carole was well known to both old money and new, well connected, and her lifestyle was that of a socialite whose limits were those only of time and not of access or means or opportunity.

The fact that Aunt Carole chose to spend so much of that precious time with me made it that much more special in my memories. She could have done anything, at anytime, with anyone, and when the opportunity to invite me into her world came around, Aunt Carole always did so. I didn't understand all that when I was a boy, just how special I was for such fortune, but over the years I came to appreciate her desire to be with me more and more. And what we shared together in those special days in the mid-1950s were among the grandest experiences any boy could ever know.

I had just turned twelve a few weeks before I went to stay with Aunt Carole for three weeks over the summer of 1954. It was a time in New York City of grandness and revelry, at least that's what I experienced when staying with Aunt Carole. Sure, I know now that the life she led was abnormally affluent and my view of things in her shadow was beyond comprehension for most boys my age. She'd arranged a private car to drive me the several hours to her apartment and when she met me at the beautiful entrance to her upscale apartment building, sharp-dressed doorman and all, she took my breath away.

Aunt Carole was tall, almost six feet, but slender. Her curves were subtle below, more obvious above, only-somewhat hidden by the long shimmering black dress she wore as if it was a second skin. The sleeves came near to her wrists, her hands covered in silver gloves which looked silky and smooth. The smile on her face belied her years, nearly five decades of life showing more like someone closer to her mid-thirties. I suppose the makeup did some of that, but I knew Aunt Carole was a natural beauty even then, the cosmetics simply evened out minor lines and accented her handsome features, nothing more. She wore her hair down onto her shoulders, light brown with golden highlights which almost glowed in the afternoon sunlight. There were delicious curls and a shape to her mane which suggested hours spent with a stylist. It was the first time I could remember ever popping a boner so quickly and being aware that I was hard even as she wrapped her arms around me and gave me the most amazing hug of my life. Aunt Carole's breasts, both modest and full, pressed against my shoulders as we embraced, me being a boy over a foot shorter than her. At that point in my life, sexual thoughts were just bubbling on the edges of awareness, and though I didn't completely connect the warmth of her breasts with such things, I really did want to squeeze her tighter and feel them squished against me as long as possible. The scent of her sweet-rose perfume filled my nose and I inhaled against her as deeply as possible.

"Scott! Oh, my, you have grown!" she exclaimed after our hug broke. Her eyes sparkled as they always did. God, I loved her eyes. "Still too skinny, but I bet I can see to it you get your fill while you're here. Hungry?"

I agreed that I was and she took my hand, nodding to the doorman as he ushered us inside the building. As Aunt Carole strolled quickly towards the elevator, I saw other well-dressed, affluent people drinking cocktails and coffees around the lobby, eyes drifting towards Aunt Carole. I know now how those eyes were trying hard to slide down her dress and see the beautiful flesh beneath. The warmth of Carole's hand in mine was doing nothing to make my boner go away, and I shuddered when I felt her squeeze tight just as the elevator door opened and the attendant greeted her professionally. He didn't even ask for her floor. I knew Aunt Carole was very well known by those who attended her needs in the building.

The elevator was gaudy. Golden trim with rich dark-brown and reddish wood panelling. Light jazz played over speakers, the quality of the sound orders of magnitude better than the cabinet speakers in my own home, and this was just the elevator! The attendant hummed the tune in a baritone and Aunt Carole joined in with a lovely harmony that made me shudder with joy. She had a beautiful voice, whether humming or singing or just talking, and it had a quality much like the sultry jazz singers I'd heard once or twice on Aunt Carole's record collection of popular lounge music.

The ride up took almost a minute before the bell dinging signaled our arrival. The attendant opened the gate then the door and nodded with a smile as Aunt Carole exited and pulled me along.

The elevator opened into a short, wide waiting room, the far end of which was the actual door into her suite. The waiting room featured two couches and four chairs, decanters full of both brown and clear liquids. I saw an ashtray, thoroughly clean and empty, as well as a wooden box I knew held impressively disgusting cigars. I'd snuck one back home the previous summer and attempted to smoke it in a vacant lot near my parent's home. I think I made it two puffs before feeling quite sick to my stomach.

Aunt Carole unlocked her door and led me inside. I was reminded yet again how amazing a life she led.

Aunt Carole's apartment wasn't really much of an apartment. It was more like someone had taken a large, gorgeous house interior and moved it up near the top of a tall building in New York City. There were two floors above her suite, both of which were owned by one of the big banking CEOs and used exclusively for entertaining international guests. Aunt Carole was the highest-placed full-time resident in the building as far as I knew.

The entrance opened up quickly to a recessed living space. There were two televisions. Two! And three plush, immaculate couches with a large, colorful rug in the center, topped with a broad, hand-carved wooden table with neatly stacked magazines and a vase full of fresh-cut yellow and orange flowers. The sitting area gave way to a formal dining space on one side as well as a huge kitchen. The other side held a piano and an amazing record player and speaker cabinet, the hallway to the utility and private rooms running from the center wall. Artwork on the walls was colorful, most of the paintings featuring, in what should have been an obvious sign of things to come, youthful, innocent boys at play. Most were Greek themes, and up until that summer, I'd missed how many of those young boys were barely dressed, their smooth stomachs and chests exposed as they wrestled or ran or threw javelins, only a loin cloth or bare wrappings covering their underaged genitals. Only later would I realize Aunt Carole was telling anyone who saw inside her home just where her most intimate desires were directed.

"Well, have a seat, my sweet little boy!" said Aunt Carole as she stood watching me settle onto the closest couch. She smiled and ran her gloved left hand across her face slowly, as if she was enjoying the sensation. I smiled back, all-too-aware of how my pee-pee was still hard inside my Levi's. "I was thinking of ordering Italian for dinner, how's that sound?"

"I love Italian!" I exclaimed. My parents were frugal with money and it was a rare treat, maybe three-times-a-year, for us to order out. I knew Aunt Carole did so nearly every meal. It was one of many reasons I loved visiting her.

"I'll call down. You relax, sweet boy. I'll get you lemonade. There are things to snack on in the box on the table. Help yourself!"

I watched as Aunt Carole removed one of her gloves and set it on the rounded counter along one side of the corner between the kitchen and dining area. She turned and disappeared into the kitchen and I heard her voice, muffled a bit. My eyes shot right to that glove.

I don't know what drew me to such things. I'd always had a fascination for fashionable women and the things they wore. The gloves, the dresses, the accessories which sparkled and shone, they drew me in and excited me like nothing else. I dared move and in a second, I had the glove in my hand.

It was still warm from Aunt Carole's body and I raised it to my face, rubbing it against my cheek. It was silky and soft and I could feel my dick throbbing in response. I suppose it was becoming a sexual thing to me, but I hadn't really made that conscious connection yet. I turned the glove over and over, sniffing it. It smelled sweet like Aunt Carole's perfume, but there was something more there, too, something unique to Aunt Carole. Her scent was on the glove, and that excited me even more.

I rubbed the glove on my arm then dared slide it onto my fingers. Too large for my hand, it left a lot of room, but I loved that I had my fingers in the same places in the glove where Aunt Carole's had just been. I brought my hand to my cheek and stroked my skin again, loving the sensation and understanding fully why Aunt Carole had done the same moments earlier.

I started to worry that she'd catch me. I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing which might be wrong, but as all young boys could, I began to feel anxious. Surprisingly, it wasn't wholly uncomfortable. The understanding that Aunt Carole might catch me wearing her glove and touching my face with it was actually rather exciting. I was pushing a boundary of sorts, and I wasn't wholly scared about being caught. More eager to see just how far I could go before I lost the nerve.

I peeked around the corner of the kitchen and saw Aunt Carole with the phone receiver pressed to her ear, her back to me. Her butt was rounded and looked very firm, very slender, in her dress. I'd slowly become aware of such features in women over the past few months, and my cock definitely signaled its interest in continuing to gaze at Aunt Carole's lovely backside.

I dared go further than merely touching my face. As I stared at Carole's lovely butt, I moved my gloved hand down into my jeans and took a big risk as my dick-pee throbbed to life even stronger when the silky fabric slid around it. I pulsed and swayed, unaccustomed to such sensations. I'd only touched myself in a general sense to that point, and I don't know what made me use my gloved hand in such a way, but it felt amazing. I could feel my pee-pee swelling and all I was certain of was that it was the best feeling in the world, at least at that point in my life. Instinctively, I stroked myself with the silky gloved fingers and began to grow warm and trembled lightly as my knees and hips swayed.

I groaned in pleasure as the soft glove slid along my immature flesh. Oops! I saw Aunt Carole's head raise slightly and her body started to turn back towards me. Had I been that loud? I ducked back to hide myself and yanked the glove back out of my pants, quickly shedding it and putting it back in the general place where it had been moments earlier.

My heart raced as I sat back on the couch and quickly tried to act like I'd been there the whole time as I heard Aunt Carole's high heels clacking on the tile floor. I yanked open the box on the coffee table and threw what I assumed were candied almonds into my mouth.

She came back into the room with a smile. "We'll have our dinner in about an hour." Her eyes glanced down at the glove and when she started to pick it up, she paused. I looked and, to my horror, I saw that there was a dark wet spot smeared along one side of the glove's index finger. Oh, no! She knows!

Aunt Carole picked up the glove and turned it so that the wet spot was obvious. She stared a moment, then chuckled quietly. But if she knew I'd touched my dick with it, she didn't say so. Instead, she slid the glove back onto her hand, carefully pulling it down tight, then she turned towards me with a smile. Slowly, Aunt Carole ran her gloved fingers along her neckline then up to her cheek, the wet spot almost certainly being spread onto her face. I was a bundle of nerves and anxiety.

Still saying nothing, Aunt Carole came over to the couch and sat very close to me, her thigh touching mine, her gloved hand continuing to slide along her cheek and neck. "I just love the way these feel on my skin, Scott," she told me. "Here..."

My skin sizzled with excitement when Aunt Carole's gloved hand touched my forehead and slowly swept my short brown hair aside. I shuddered and she giggled. "My, my, sweet boy, you enjoy that as much as I do!"

I certainly did. Aunt Carole's thigh was warm, but the gloved fingers were a furnace on my face as her fingers moved lower to my cheek. Slowly, so exquisitely slowly, she swept down near my lips, then teased my mouth a moment before pushing down my lower lip and placing the tip of her gloved finger just inside. My dick was throbbing with intensity.

She held still a moment, and I swear she was purring with satisfaction as she watched my reaction. I felt full of confusion and excitement and nerves, but I felt amazing and content and eager to see what she might do next. Her other hand came up, still covered with a glove, and she held one cheek while the other hand moved from my lips to slide down my neck to the edge of my collared shirt, stopping an inch or so underneath. "You like that, Scott?"

I nodded and shuddered again.

"Mmm... Good to know..."

I saw Aunt Carole's eyes quickly glance down to where my Levi's were tented in an obvious fashion. The delight on her face soothed the anxiety in my body. Her reaction to me in that moment likely took my unconscious desires from hot coals to bonfire in seconds. I felt my cock straining for something, anything. I was too young to fully understand my reaction, but my body was fully aware of what was desired.

And Aunt Carole read me like I was a novel she knew by heart.

She giggled again, then said in a sultry voice, "My sweet boy... becoming a man, are you?"

I didn't say a word but she knew my answer.

Slowly, she pulled back her hands but let her thigh continue to press against mine. She blinked slowly at me, then said sweetly, "This is going to be a visit to remember, Scott... I promise you this will be the best time of your life..."

I had no idea what she meant, but I was more than eager to find out.

- - -

Dinner was wolfed down automatically between more normal conversation centered on my school, my friends, and my parents. Aunt Carole had removed her gloves, to my disappointment, but she still wore her dress. Seated at the table, her breasts looked heavy and full, held tight by the dress. She was so slender that her average-sized boobs looked quite large on her frame. I tried not to get caught staring.

After dinner, a domestic servant arrived to clean up the dishes, an older woman, probably an immigrant from Ireland based on her features and accent. The woman said little, and Aunt Carole led me quickly down the hallway where, at the end, a large sun and tea room looked out over the city, facing east into the fading light. The view was simply breathtaking. To a twelve-year old boy, it was fascinating to be in that room. As a twelve-year old maturing preteen, it was holistically romantic.

Aunt Carole sipped a dark brown spiced tea while I drank my lemonade. She idly talked about her days spent in Acapulco and Honolulu the previous winter as if it was the most normal thing in the world to travel to exotic places during the cold months in the Northeast. With each word from her, accented by the way she pursed her deep-red painted lips, I was drawn into a fantasy of Aunt Carole which I'd never before experienced. I wanted to hold her against me, to be held by her, and not just in a normal way. I wanted her to kiss me and tell me she loved me. I suppose I was a dreamer then, a romantic, and that setting, that woman, made me burn with desire for simple, intimate moments with her.

As if she noticed, Aunt Carole moved from her chair along a side of one of four big windows and settled herself next to me on the low conversation couch centered before a long, thin, stone table. She put her arm around me and I instinctively settled into her. "Aw, my sweet boy Scott. It is so good to have you here. I've longed for your company these many months since your last visit."

I smiled against her, happy as never before. Aunt Carole always made me feel good. Whether her smile or her words or her warm embrace, I never felt anything other than love for her, and she never showed me any less. My cock had risen again as her warmth sank into me and I inhaled her sweet perfume, her fragrant, musky scent, near her neck.

Her fingers lingered along my arm and I wished she still wore her gloves. I loved her skin, sure, and her touch made goosebumps rumble into existence wherever her fingers moved, but there was something magical about the feel of those gloves.

"Madame Carole?" an Irish accent called out from behind us in the hallway. "I am finished. Do you need anything else?"

"Not tonight, dear. My thanks. Please be sure to take that bottle of champagne for you and your husband to enjoy."

"I will. Thank you so much, Madame Carole!"

I heard the woman shuffle away and soon the door closed as she left the apartment.

- - -

New York City, even in those days, was never dark. Lights both bright and dim contributed to the night's glow and looking out from the tea room made it obvious just how many people called the place home. Lights flickered and blinked, went on or off, but the glow of the city, pushing out well into the distance, never diminished. I could have lived in that room and enjoyed every moment of my time doing nothing but watching lights twinkling close and far.

Even curled up against Aunt Carole, my eyes were free to see how the sister building to the one I was in was brightly lit on the top floor and patio roof. People milled out on an oversized deck overhanging the structure, as well, drinks in hand, the bright lights on the balcony showing clearly the to-the-nines dresses and tuxedos. Women and men drank from sparkling crystal flutes and Collins glasses, sipping or gulping in turn, clearly enjoying a celebration of some sort with balloons tied to the railing and a banner hanging near one side, though I couldn't read the writing.

"What's going on there?" I asked Aunt Carole, pointing to the party.

"Oh, Mr. Wilcox just retired from General Electric. Thirty-five years, worked up to the top. Getting out as a very, very rich man." I saw her staring towards those gathered on the deck. "He asked that I join him tonight, but I declined."

"Why?"

Aunt Carole cocked her head and looked down at me with pleasantly-narrowed eyes. "You can't guess?"

I thought hard a moment, unable to think of anything else Carole might have rather done. I shook my head against her.

"Why, you were coming to visit me this night!"

"But... you could have gone anyway," I replied, "I'd be okay by myself here."

"Well, of course, you'd be fine," said Aunt Carole, "but that's not the point. I wanted to spend the evening with you, not Mr. Wilcox..."

"Oh," I said, a little confused, "really?"

She grinned and pressed her lips to my forehead, lingering a long moment and making me shudder, then she said, "Really."

I grew all warm and fuzzy inside.

- - -

"I'm sure I don't need to show you to your room, Scott," Aunt Carole said after I'd yawned a few times and was growing sleepy, "and if you need anything, don't hesitate to say so. I'm going to bed myself soon, so just come in if you need me." She kissed my cheek, lingering again, and hugged me tight. I tried to drown in that embrace, willingly sinking into Aunt Carole until I could no longer breath, not caring that I might become dizzy soon.

"Sleep well, my sweet boy."

I passed doors to the study room, a couple of doors to storage and utility rooms, and then came to where my room was placed. It was across the hall from another guest room, and next to the room where Aunt Carole slept each night. I'd only been in the latter a time or two over the years, the most recent being my last visit, but when I'd been inside her bedroom, there were curious things there which still lingered on the edge of my curiosity even months after the fact.

Underwear. I'd seen Aunt Carole's underwear. It had been stacked, neatly, on a rich, dark-brown wooden dresser, panties folded next to bras, both silky and lacy. They all looked brand new, though I saw no tags. I'd only seen them from a distance, really, only inside maybe thirty seconds as I'd waited for Aunt Carole to find a bandage for a small cut I'd just gotten. But I'd seen the underwear and I knew it was something naughty for my eyes, something which only later would do more than entice my curious mind to wander and wonder.

And there was the fragrance in the room which was, to put it mildly, arousing. Not sexually arousing when I was eleven, but it drew in my sense of smell and made me take notice. Much like the scent against Aunt Carole's neck, there was a mixture of sweet roses and her natural fragrance. The room smelled like Aunt Carole, and that alone meant I could have spent hours doing nothing more than sitting on her bed and sniffing the air. Unfortunately, I had not had such an opportunity.

I went into my room and found my luggage already inside. The driver hired by Aunt Carole had brought it up earlier in the day. Each of the bedrooms in the apartment had a private bathroom, and I took a moment to strip down and get into the bathtub. It was only after I was soaking and relaxing in the bubbles and hot water that I realized I hadn't taken a towel out of the closet.

I heard the bedroom door open and instinctively I sank down into the water, ensuring as much of my body was covered as possible. Aunt Carole called out, "Scott? Okay for me to duck inside?"

"Uh... uh-huh..."

A second later, she was in my bathroom and my eyes were drawn to what she was now wearing.

In place of her gorgeous black dress was a silky dark-red robe left somewhat loose around her body, thin golden ties barely keeping the front together. Aunt Carole's breasts hung full and unsupported beneath, and they danced below the fabric with each breath she took. "I was about to take my own bath when I realized you might need a towel..."

Her eyes drew, briefly, to where thick, white bubbles covered my privates, then returned to my slightly-embarrassed expression. "Oh, my sweet boy," she whispered, "don't worry about what Aunt Carole might see. You're beautiful, so beautiful. Never be ashamed in front of Aunt Carole."

"Uh..."

She laughed, "Well, here's that towel," she said as she leaned forward and set it on the low stool beside the tub. When she did so, her robe flared as she bent towards me, opening wide and forming a silky window down Aunt Carole's body. Her breasts hung heavily, naked to my eyes, tight, light-red circles capping her mounds, tips hardened and firm. My dick grew erect and my shame dissipated immediately. I stared with eager curiosity, somewhat nervous that Aunt Carole might see me looking, but too amazed by what I was seeing to turn away.

Her movements were quite slow, and, in retrospect, deliberate. She was putting on a show for me, though only later would I realize it. All I knew was that her lovely naked breasts were beautiful and so close to me that I could have touched them with my fingers if I have just dared to reach out.

I didn't, of course. Not yet.

Aunt Carole laughed and finally let go the towel, slowly rising back upright. Her robe now hung more loosely, the top parting wider than before she'd bent down, her rose-colored tips just inside the edges and so close to poking out. Down lower, the part in the robe hinted at her navel, an extraordinarily personal part of her body, one I'd never seen that I could recall. These were days before many women were wearing the more revealing two-piece swimsuits, at least when I'd been with Aunt Carole at a pool or beach, so her stomach was never shown to me. To see the shadows of her belly button centered in a lovely, slender abdomen of soft, warm flesh was, to me, almost as erotic as her naked breasts.

She stood only a moment, then blew me a kiss and said, "Sleep well, Scott. I love you."

"L-love you, Aunt Carole."

She left me in silence and a million amazing, curious thoughts were tumbling through my brain. The one which was clearest to understand was the growing romantic love I was feeling for Aunt Carole. She made me feel special and loved, comforted and comfortable, and when combined with the pubescent hormones beginning to flow in my body, I was becoming very emotionally and physically attached to her.

I'd only been with her a few hours at that point in the visit, and that attraction for her would only grow stronger.

- - -

"We're going shopping today," Aunt Carole informed me as we waited in the dining room for the cook to finish making breakfast in the apartment kitchen. The woman finishing up pastries and fresh-cuts of ripe fruits had worked for Aunt Carole, making breakfasts and often lunches, for several years and was almost like family. Mrs. Webber, as I had always called her, was in her late sixties and was rather quiet, though certainly friendly enough. I didn't know her well, but I'd been served her cooking many times over the years and it was always a treat no matter what was prepared.

"Shopping?" I replied distantly, my stomach growling as the aroma of pastries baking filled the room.

Aunt Carole answered, "Shopping. I want you to look nice tonight."

I looked back at Aunt Carole and took in her outfit a moment before replying. Aunt Carole was always in full regalia, it seemed to me, unless it was just me and her together, alone, and even then, most of the time her outfit was elaborate and gorgeous. With Mrs. Webber in the apartment, Aunt Carole had decked herself out in a delicious red, flowing cocktail dress. Broad shoulder straps ran down low to cross just below her breasts, falling further down until they disappeared below the table and out of my sight. It made her boobs appear more modest than some of her outfits, but it still left a great measure of cleavage to enjoy.

Around Aunt Carole's neck was a double, low-hanging strand of shiny, cream-colored pearls, the thick necklace one of her favorites and one I'd seen around her neck many times over the years. Dangling, three-tiered diamond-and-pearl earrings danced with each movement. Her face was made up with delicate eyeliner, rich red lipstick matching her dress, and softening accents on her cheeks. I knew she didn't need any of that to look simply beautiful, but I admit that it made Aunt Carole even more attractive. It certainly did nothing to stop the growing attraction I had for her from simmering in my thoughts, and in my pants.

"Uh... what's tonight?" I finally managed to sputter.

"Tonight, you are going to be my date at the Callahan Gala in Southhampton, and I want you to look sharp. Tuxedo. Black pumps. Gold wristwatch. Maybe even some fancy underwear..." she giggled as she trailed off and I wondered if she was serious about the underwear.

I asked, "Are you sure it's okay for me to go?" Usually, when I was staying with Aunt Carole, I had to stay behind on the rare times she chose to go to some function while I was visiting. I'd never really asked why, but it seemed odd for her to decide it was time for me to attend.

"More than okay. I would love to take you as my date." Aunt Carole grinned and took my hand in hers. Her skin was soft, though nothing like the lovely gloves the night before. Still, it made me feel good to touch her so, and my dick certainly came to life with but a simple contact.

"What do I do? I, uh... I've never been to a... uh... gala."

She laughed again and shook her head. "Don't worry, sweet boy. We're just there to mingle and see some friends of mine. It's a charity social, so it's for a good cause. I think it's time you started making connections in your life, Scott. You're old enough to start learning how to have... adult... conversations and relationships. You start tonight, and all you have to do is nod and be polite and answer questions directly and honestly. Otherwise, listen and learn. Some things said will be wise and worth remembering. Other things... probably more than the former... will be silly and without wisdom, but those, too, are worth remembering. I'll teach you what it takes to make these connections... and by the time you're an adult, you'll have advantages most boys could only dream of having. Trust me, sweet boy, you are going to learn a lot about... being an adult... during your visit."

How true those words were I didn't know in that moment.

I was eager and a little nervous by the time breakfast was served, but I ate hungrily and in no time, Aunt Carole and I were on our way out the door to find me clothes fitting of the highbrow social gathering I'd attend on her arm later that evening.

- - -

Going out in public with Aunt Carole was always an experience to remember. Not only was she impeccably dressed, she also wrapped herself in an attitude of casual affluence and playful extravagance. Each movement was deliberate and ostentatious, even so simple a thing as pointing out a department store which had been in business for a hundred years felt, to me, like a grand gesture worthy of my attention. And not just my attention, but everyone around us seemed to watch Aunt Carole as she told the history of this store, or that business mogul, or explained to me how a prosperous young man had made a small fortune starting out as a newspaper hawker on this very corner.

That prosperous young man had been her husband and though he'd died fairly young, he'd made himself wealthy, and by extension, made Aunt Carole wealthy, through hard work, determination, and, she assured me, "Looking sharp all the time." That was one of the reasons she insisted on taking me to buy clothing I would use maybe once in my life before I'd outgrown it, but that once, she insisted, was vital to my growth in the city and in the world. I might have only reached twelve years, she said, but I was at a point where my future depended greatly on taking big steps up in the world before I was officially a teenager.

And so, with eyes regularly turning her way from all corners, I was fitted for a tuxedo and shoes and accessories at one of the top stores in the world, all while Aunt Carole told me stories of her adventures in Cairo, and China, and that one time she met an African prince who tried to convince her to stay and marry him a few years back. I grew rather jealous hearing about this dark-skinned god's charisma and charm. I certainly couldn't match his wits, his wealth, or his personal collection of zoo animals. What chance did I have of wooing my beloved with a squeaky preteen voice and a small stack of comic books?

Still, I would not have traded one minute of that day because I got to spend it with Aunt Carole. She offered critiques of each cut of my jacket and had the tailor taking furious notes about each and every detail of the fitting. The man assured her my full outfit would be ready in time for the night's gala, and we had lunch afterwards at a high-end bar complete with shimmering Irish jazz singers and smoky cigars, but the upscale sort, not the more common, less wealthy hangouts I'd heard my friends tell jokes about where dark-skinned men and unsavory white folks got drunk and fought and, so I'd heard, smoked some sort of illegal weed which turned them insane and made them ravenous with lust.

Aunt Carole never denigrated such places, though, not to me. No, her way was to praise what she experienced in a measured tone, but she offered that her life, and by extension, mine, were not the experiences other people could access. "People do the best they can, Scott. Never look down on someone who doesn't have the advantages you have. My life can be yours if you work hard now to take things easier later. Not everyone gets so lucky. Never forget that."

She was grooming me, in some way, for a life more like hers and less like what my parents maintained. But she wanted me to be humble even as the clothing she wore, and the outfit I'd put on that night, spoke in different voices about affluence and access.

After lunch, we strolled through Central Park a while, more history of the city and it's people flooding my ears. I couldn't take it all in without forgetting most of it, but I tried my best to store away the things she told me and hoped I could remember if I ever really needed to know such things.

Regardless, hand-in-hand, I spent an hour or so with Aunt Carole and I could not have been a happier boy. We rested at one point on a park bench, my eyes drawn to Aunt Carole's bosom. Her red cocktail dress might have seemed out of place in such a location, but if there was anyone who could pull it off, it was her. Pressed out from body, her breasts pushed lovely curves into the fabric which made my dick almost uncomfortably stiff. When she pulled me in for a hug, I didn't miss just how tightly my cheek was pressed against her bosom, and I soaked in that warmth wishing I could see her flesh underneath one more time.

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a pair of silky red gloves and my heart fluttered. Aunt Carole grinned at me then slowly slid them on. My cock surely took notice. "I rather fancy these, my sweet boy," she told me as she tested the fit, "and I think you do, as well, yes?"

I nodded, grinning without a thought beyond those gloves.

She reached to my face and slowly stroked my cheek, drawing goosebumps and shudders from me, The silky fabric combined with the warmth of Aunt Carole's fingers to dance with luxurious comfort along my chin and neck. She was teasing me to trembling before I realized how long Aunt Carole had been touching me. I got lost so easily in the touch of her gloved hands that I didn't even care that I had leaned back and let my tented Levi's show to anyone who might walk past. I suppose I did fear someone seeing, just a bit, but Aunt Carole's presence quashed any serious concerns, and I just closed my eyes and enjoyed her touch as long as she would give it.

She giggled a few times in that sultry way which suggests kind love mixed with something a little naughty. I was too young to fully grasp that meaning, but instinctively, I knew it was more than just a casually-playful friendship she was showing me. No, she wanted to tease me in some special way, and each touch of her gloved fingers brought out new shudders, rousing my cock to pound and swell in my jeans.

At one point, while one hand stroked my cheek, the other came to rest along one thigh. Just a light touch, her gloved hand settling lightly over my Levi's, far enough from my privates to avoid the appearance of anything terribly untoward, but high enough on my leg to ensure that her intentions were, at minimum, very interesting to me.

Suddenly, Aunt Carole stopped her teasing and said, "I'm want you to get a haircut now, then back to my home. Bathe and put on your small clothes to get ready. I have an appointment for my hair and nails before we try on your new outfit." With that, she stood and we walked to where a driver was waiting for us. Aunt Carole ushered me in and then kissed my cheek, lingering only a moment before the door closed and I was driven to a barber.

- - -

I stood staring at myself in the mirror for long moments after my bath. There was something new going on in my body, something I'd never felt before. It all seemed to center on my dick, and I idly touched it as I watched myself standing there. I hadn't quite figured things out when I realized that I was alone in the apartment for the first time that I could remember. Usually, Aunt Carole was there with me, and if she was out, usually someone else, one of the servants typically, was there to keep an eye on me. But I was apparently old enough to be on my own, and that opened up a possibility I'd secretly stashed away for just such a moment.

I yanked on my briefs and an undershirt but nothing more, then quickly made my way out of my room and into Aunt Carole's bedroom. I stood just inside, mouth slightly open. It was a wonderland of curiosities and possibilities and I wasn't even really sure where to start.

Breathing in the air, I smiled and enjoyed the room's mix of Aunt Carole's perfume and the lingering scent of her body. I don't know why that combination struck me so profoundly, but for long moments I simply stood, eyes closed, inhaling deeply.

I broke my trance only when I remembered that my time was limited. I didn't know when Aunt Carole would return and if I wanted to have a chance to explore her private space, I needed to hurry up about it. My eyes tore across her bedroom. There were no stacks of underwear this time, but I suspected I could find them quickly in her dresser. But something else occurred to me.

Along one side of the wall were two broad folding doors which led to what I assumed was her closet. I'd never seen inside it and I had long wondered what sorts of treasures she might hide away in there. I rushed over, hands trembling, and pushed the doors to the sides.

The walk-in closet was enormous, more like a small room, and as before, I didn't know where to start. I wasn't even really looking for anything specific, the thrill of the naughty exploration more than enough to make me shake with excitement. Inside, I saw racks holding the most elegant and lovely dresses and gowns. Some held lace and frills, others were sleek and shimmery. Some were so thick with ruffles and folds that they pushed away all the nearest outfits. I stared at one, a golden dress with multiple layers which hung apart from the others. Touching it, I purred at it's softness and wondered what it might feel like if Aunt Carole was wearing it just then.

There were even more interesting things hanging on the racks opposite the long row of dresses and gowns. I saw what looked like long bras, of sorts, cups for support combined with tight, lacy fabric which would have covered Aunt Carole's stomach and the upper parts of her thighs, straps hanging loosely a few inches below. Even though she was slender, I knew these items would certainly have been quite tight on her body.

Touching one, white with golden seams, I found myself excited by what it my look like on Aunt Carole. Her breasts would have been restrained but pushed up by the cups, and the fit further down would have made her look even slimmer than she was. I pulled the item from its hanger and held it in front of me a moment. And then my eyes drew deeper into the voluminous closet and saw something even more exciting.

On the back wall there were dark-brown wooden shelves with dividers and box sections, each one holding something different. What drew my gaze were the many filled with neat lines of gloves. Some were dark colors and looked thick, some with buttons, others were delicate yellows and lavenders and creams, many silky like those Aunt Carole had worn earlier that day. I put the bra-like piece back on the rack and picked up a set of light red gloves. The nerves in my stomach jangled a moment as I remembered what a naughty thing I was doing by exploring Aunt Carole's private closet. I thought only a moment of such fears before the gloves commanded my attention once more.

I rubbed one on my cheek and for just a moment I felt Aunt Carole touching me like that again. I stirred from the memories. Slipping one glove onto my hand I found myself stroking my neck and cheek, imagining it was my favorite person in the world making the contact. My dick grew hard from the touches and I slid the partner glove onto my other hand, then drew my fingers down into my underwear and began to feel myself there.

It was an amazing sensation, as it had been the day before. My hard pee-pee strained in my fingers, the soft gloves so lovely along my young flesh. I really wished it was Aunt Carole touching me like that. I wondered, briefly, what chance I might see of that happening while on my visit.

Briefly, because Aunt Carole's laughter behind me made me jerk my hand out of my underwear and spin with my stomach churning. I've been caught!

"Well, that's something new..." she purred, the delightful smile on her face somewhat soothing the anxiety I felt at having been caught. Despite my nerves and fear, my dick didn't become flaccid.

Aunt Carole's eyes drew down my body and I knew right then she was aware of my hardness. I wasn't sure whether to be even more scared that she'd noticed, or, perhaps, excited to have her know what I was up to when she walked in. Her smile widened. "So you really do enjoy my gloves, sweet boy..." She laughed again, and her sultry voice added, "Maybe this night, after our date at the gala, we can explore this... fascination... you have for my gloves..."

I nodded out of confusion, only hoping to avoid any anger from my Aunt Carole, but also because what she said sounded great. Not that she ever snapped at me in anger. I couldn't even recall a time she'd really lost her temper. Sure, I'd been corrected and called out at times for stupid things I'd done, but Carole was always fair and even-handed. I never really feared her wrath, and I didn't need to. The last thing I ever wanted was for Aunt Carole to be mad at me. Still, the thrill and fear of having been caught made me uncertain about what to do or say in that moment, so my head movement was about all I could manage in response.

Aunt Carole strode forward and took my hands in hers, the gloves still over my fingers. "Those do look rather lovely on you, but too big. I suspect, though, that maybe you would rather they be on my hands?"

My nodding was intentional this time, and more urgent than before. While I loved wearing the gloves, there was nothing more in the world I wanted than for Aunt Carole to put them on and touch me again.

It was not to be, at least in that moment. She gave me a quick hug, and then said, "Well, no time right now to explore such things. We need to get ready for our date. Mr. Greenwald will be here shortly with your suit and can make any final adjustments you may need. Go wait for him in the living room while I bathe and get ready."

"Uh," I said, "I'm... uh... not really dressed..."

Aunt Carole looked down at me in my white undershirt and white briefs. The tenting had gone down, at least. "That's fine. Mr. Greenwald has seen it all before, sweet boy, and he'll need you stripped down for the fitting. Just relax." She smiled at me and added with a delicious twist at the edge of her lips, "If it would make you feel more comfortable, I'll strip down to my undergarments..."

My dick hardened as I understood what was happening. Aunt Carole carefully pulled her dress up over her head after zipping down the back, somehow managing to not disturb her lovely hair which was gathered in a fashionable way, lightly-curled. What she showed me further down was even more amazing.

Underneath, she wore a rich brown bra with laces and even a few bow-tied ribbons. Two straps led down from her long, bra-like covering to a waistband pulled up high over her bare stomach which appeared to be connected to the light-grey hose she wore. There were more straps and crossing fabrics, enough to confuse me about what she was wearing, but I was certainly clear on something else: her white panties, lacy and almost see-through, were just a few feet from my eyes.

God, was Aunt Carole sexy! I suppose that's the first time I really had such a thought. Not just that she was beautiful or interesting or exotic, but sexy. My eyes took in her beauty. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the dark shadow below the soft curve at the bottom of panties which I didn't yet understand was the suggestion of something quite private between Aunt Carole's legs. The look on her face was, for once, perhaps a bit uncertain.

"Do you like what you see, sweet boy?"

"Y-yes... yes..."

She smiled, her expression changing to satisfaction. "I thought you might. See," she added, "it isn't so big a deal to be seen in one's small clothes. It's as easy as that."

I grinned. "Okay... yeah... uh..."

"Well, get on it, then," she replied, "I have much to do. When you're finished, look in your bathroom cabinet. In there, I've put some cologne I had shipped in from France for just this occasion. Spritz three times on your neck, once on each wrist. No more, understood?"

"Uh-huh."

Aunt Carole turned aside and disappeared into the bathroom. I trembled in excitement a moment before my legs would move for me.

- - -

The final fitting took over two hours. Tedious boredom would have been the state of my mind had I not had so many thrilling moments that day with Aunt Carole to relive and reimagine. I did my best to keep my boner from popping up when Mr. Greenwald was doing his measurements and tests of the fit, but it was rather difficult. Once he had left, I did as Aunt Carole said and checked the bathroom cabinet. The cologne was at my eye level and I took it out, following her instructions in where and how much to put on.

It had a musky spiciness that I'd never known. A little sweet, perhaps, but nothing like Aunt Carole's fragrance. It was almost a repugnant smell, in a way, in that I didn't really want to smell it all night instead of Aunt Carole's perfume. Still, it mattered to her, and as I stared at myself in the mirror again, this time in a to-the-nines tuxedo, a slick modern haircut (possibly the first in my life,) and some exotic imported scent in my nose, I felt quite grown up in that moment. To say I felt amazing would be an understatement, and the night was just getting started.

I waited in the living room for another hour before Aunt Carole called out to me to come to her room. I rushed in to find her turned away from me. She wore a gown that I could only fairly describe as one fit for a queen. It was light-cream in color, long sleeves, tight at the waist before flowing down in long folds which flared out into a circle several feet across. The bottom edge hovered just above the floor. With her back to me, I saw that the rear of the gown was zippered, still open, the bottom of the thin vee a few inches below her waist. The top of the sheer hose were visible, showing the top of her cream-colored panties underneath. "Zip me up," Aunt Carole said brightly.

My fingers trembled as I took hold of the zipper, so close to Aunt Carole's buttocks that I swear I could feel the heat from them. I could smell her perfume and inhaled its sweet scent. Aunt Carole sighed lightly as I began to slowly pull the zipper up, my fingers barely brushing the tops of her backside. Her skin was so smooth and beautiful, a random freckle dotting her flesh, and despite her age, I saw no sagging or lines or a single blemish suggesting her skin was anything other than fresh and soft. I hated covering up that wonderland, but once the zipper was in place, I realized that a great deal of her back was still showing where the zipper ended in her mid-back, leaving a long, wide vee, and her smooth, lovely exposed skin was both classy and arousing at the same time.

If I thought she looked incredible from the back, it was nothing compared to her front. The gown had curled white lace from the waist up to the tops of where her breasts pushed out the fabric, a thin light-cream covering just above that point, leaving only the hint of her cleavage visible. Her hair hung beautifully as it had that afternoon, and her double-strand pearl necklace was in its usual place around her neck. Silver and pearl two-tiered earrings hung just inside the curves of her hair, and her face had just enough makeup to make her look golden and bright. Soft, pink lipstick combined with brushed out eyelashes accented Aunt Carole's beauty perfectly.

And, to beat all that, her hands were covered in soft white gloves pulled tightly onto her fingers. Along each wrist were small cream-colored buttons, each one fastened and orderly. Aunt Carole stood a moment as I looked her over, then said, "You look quite the gentleman. Very handsome indeed..."

"Th-thank you," I stammered, "you, uh.. wow."

"'Wow,'" she laughed, "I'll take 'wow' any day from you, Scott."

"I mean, uh... you look... so beautiful!" I exclaimed, hardly containing my excitement.

She smiled broadly and my heart melted with the love I felt from her in that moment. "I'm glad you say so. We will make quite the couple at the gala, I promise you. Here," she said, grabbing something from the bed and handing it to me.

I looked down to see the wristwatch we'd picked out earlier that day. It was expensive, for sure, though there'd been no price tags on anything in the jeweler's shop, so I had no idea how much so. It had diamonds and gold, a fancy, gem-cut face and even a small dial where the day's date was displayed! I slid it on quickly and Aunt Carole voiced her approval at my look.

She took my hand and led me out of the apartment and on the way to our first date.

- - -

The word 'date' wasn't quite what I thought it meant at that time. I knew enough to understand the general concept, but I'd been on plenty of 'dates' with my mother over the years, so the word didn't hold any specific romantic relationship meaning. It was just a day or an evening spent doing something with someone you loved, nothing more or less.

And that's how things started out. Obviously, looking back, Aunt Carole was never going to display any of the sensual, special closeness with me that she showed in private, and I never expected any such thing. All I knew was how special I was to be included in her social life.

The gala was held at the home of some rich executive. The right word for the place was probably 'mansion.' The property was encircled by a heavy iron gate with two security attendants stationed at the entrance. They asked for names and Aunt Carole's driver gave hers and mine. A moment later, we were cleared to proceed, and it took another five minutes before we were parked close to the main building.

It was a sprawling three-story affair with stone columns, lion statues frozen in fierce roars, golden ribbons tied just so along doorways and windows and along the surrounding hedges and gardens. Bustling activity met us when we stepped out and Aunt Carole took my hand to guide me to the line of a half-dozen or so others waiting to be admitted.

Only a moment later, the attendant asked our names, and once more we were approved for access. Aunt Carole led me slowly into a grand hallway which was probably as big as my parents' home. To one side, separated only by more stone columns, was a sprawling ballroom with a modest orchestra playing upbeat classical music, a couple of dozen couples or more spinning politely together on the dance floor nearby.

The other side appeared to be a lounge area, plush seats and couches and low tables, smoky cigars and snifters full of what I was sure was some sort of potent alcohol.

My eyes and brain were overwhelmed. I'd never much seen such things on television or in movies, let alone be standing right in the middle of such a lush revelry. Aunt Carole stopped us beside a painting. "Picasso," she told me without further explanation. To me, the painting looked rather warped and unfriendly, but I was no expert on artwork and I assumed that it must be really exceptional to be in such a rich, high-class location.

"Madame!" a man's voice called from the lounge area. "Madame Carole!"

I turned to see a man close to Aunt Carole's age walking our way. He, too, wore a tuxedo, carrying a snifter in one hand. As he got closer, I saw Aunt Carole put her hand out. He took it, leaning forward slightly, and planted a kiss lightly on the back before releasing her. I felt a pang of jealousy right then, the first I remember. I hated that man for no reason other than he'd just done something with Aunt Carole I wanted to do.

"Pierre, it is so marvelous to see you here!" Aunt Carole exclaimed. "I thought you would be in Stockholm this time of year!"

"Ah," replied Pierre, "usually, this is so. However, I have just closed a deal to buy a racehorse or three and wished to see them in person immediately. And, of course, since I am on the continent, I must see you, as well, for I cannot go so long between moments in your presence."

"Oh, you do flatter, Pierre," laughed Aunt Carole, "but, alas, I am taken this night. Another has my heart and my hand. Please meet Scott. He is a dear, dear friend of mine."

Pierre stuck out his hand and I took it without thinking. "Hello there, Scott. You undoubtedly know that you are the luckiest man at this gala, yes? To hold this woman's hand is to experience heaven on Earth."

"Uh... yep." I sounded so stupid I simply clamped my lips together and stopped any other words from escaping.

"A man of few words," Pierre replied, "I can appreciate that, especially since I usually enjoy doing most of the talking. Madame Carole, I will take my leave so that you may acclimate to this evening. Do not escape without finding me again, though. You are on loan, my dear, not for sale."

There was a touch of something I didn't appreciate in his tone. Looking back, it was the implication of possession, that Aunt Carole somehow owed Pierre something. I hated him doubly after those words.

But Aunt Carole was a consummate social butterfly. Her reaction was gentle and playful, teasing without promising. She dismissed him with a second offer of her hand, which he kissed again, and then she wrapped her gloved fingers into mine and led me further down the grand hallway.

"Pierre is harmless," she told me quietly as if she'd read my thoughts, "he only plays at things. The things he says are more about appearances than reality."

I didn't fully understand, but I figured it meant that I should not let my jealousy get too powerful. Though, how one controls jealousy was surely beyond me, then and now.

"I want you to meet someone. One of my favorite people in the world."

She led me down a corridor which broke off from the broad hallway, turning left, then right before knocking twice on a thick, oversized, dark-reddish brown wooden door. The door opened slowly and Aunt Carole led me inside.

This was a special place to be, and I knew it immediately. The tone was different inside. Perhaps a dozen others were seated or standing, passionate conversations and those listening to them the event of the moment. There were cigars and cigarettes, and everyone seemed to be holding a drink of some sort.

But this wasn't the jovial, festive atmosphere of the rest of the gala. These men, and they were all men, held a weight to them. Not physical but charismatic. These were powerful people. Men whose decisions made the world turn. I'm not sure why I felt that so strongly, but it turned out I was correct.

Conversations died off as the door closed behind us. I saw broad smiles and nodding heads in the room, all those who had been sitting suddenly stood.

"Madame Carole!" two men exclaimed at once. I began to think it odd that I'd heard others address her in such an informal way. As a widow and a woman of means, it would have been considered rude to use anything other than her surname in such a place. But twice now she'd been called by her first name. I didn't realize it then, but it was something Aunt Carole had demanded of these people. I also didn't realize how easily Aunt Carole could have played each and every one of them with her charms and her wiles had she wished to do so.

One by one, her hand was kissed by each, and then she turned towards me and said, "This is my dear, dear friend and date this evening. This is Scott. Scott, these are the men who create wealth and stability in this city, this country. You may think it's the Mayor, or maybe the President or Congress. No, these are the men who really run things."

I heard a couple of chuckles and a nod or two full of satisfaction. I squeaked, "Uh, hello..."

I shook hands with several of them who were much more interested in gaining Aunt Carole's attention than mine. She was polite but firm in cutting short conversations, steering me to the back of the room. A very old man sat in a faded, unstable looking chair along the back wall, a cigarette between two fingers with so much ash hanging off the end that it was sure to fall onto his lap any second. Skin a darkened tan, perhaps Mediterranean ancestry, wrinkled and folded and worn from many decades. His eyes looked a little unfocused and I wasn't even sure he was aware we were walking closer. He hadn't risen with the others. In fact, I hadn't even noticed him until were nearing his seat.

"Mr. Magnolia, it is such a treasure to see you."

I watched as the man's eyes wiggled around as if randomly scouring the scene. It was only after a moment that I realized the cloudy film overtop probably meant the man was blind. He suddenly exclaimed "Sweet Carole! Oh, my dear," he rumbled in a voice much more deep and stable than I expected, "oh, I simply must see you again!"

I was confused to say the least until I saw Aunt Carole step closer and lean down. The man managed to slide his cigarette into the nearby tray without dropping the ash. He shamelessly wiped his hands on his trousers, his outfit much lower in quality than anyone else I'd seen that night, then he brought them higher, touching Aunt Carole's face with each fingertip.

Carefully, he traced the lines of her face. He didn't smear makeup one bit, but his movements were surprising deft and gentle. After a moment, he smiled broadly, "You are still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She laughed and took one of his hands in hers. "And you are the most gracious flatterer I've ever met. That's saying something given this crowd."

He chuckled in a rumble then took his cigarette back in hand, the ash now left in the tray.

"I brought someone to meet you," Aunt Carole told him, "this is my nephew, of sorts, and my date for this evening. This is Scott."

I stuck my hand out automatically then felt rather foolish given that Mr. Magnolia was blind.

He surprised me again when his wrinkled brown hand slid into mine smoothly and gripped firmly. "It is a pleasure, Scott. It is a rare thing for Madame Carole to bring someone to meet me. You must be a very special one, indeed."

Aunt Carole laughed lightly, "Special, he is. And I hoped, perhaps, you would share with him the story of how you came to be amongst those in this room tonight..."

"Ah, yes... I thought you'd rather taken my words to heart all those years ago. And finally you have found another worth my time in such matters. Sit, please," he said, releasing my hand.

Aunt Carole ushered me into a chair next to Mr. Magnolia and then took one further along on the other side of the slender table. My eyes watched her settle and I couldn't help wonder if, in a miracle moment, I might get to snuggle against Aunt Carole that night while she still wore her beautiful gown and those lovely white gloves. That thought passed quickly, though, when the man began to speak.

"I was poor all my childhood. Poor like most never know. Dirt poor, as one might say. We ate out of garbage discarded by shabby restaurants, or that of neighbors. I worked from my fifth year for the general merchandiser in my little town just to provide one meal a week and a random snack for a few of us." Mr. Magnolia took a sip of his drink. "We had nothing more than a few torn shirts and pants... I wore my older sister's hand-me-downs, if you can believe that."

I stared at the man, his cadence smooth and full of authority. I felt Aunt Carole take my hand in hers and as I listened to Mr. Magnolia, I was distracted by her silk fingers curling around mine.

"I worked my butt off, boy, for almost nothing. Real tough work, too. Nothing you should want to do unless you have to. But so did everyone. Everyone worked hard. It got them nowhere. You see, I was lucky, Scott, lucky to see things others didn't. The world isn't laid out based on how hard you work. It turns on favors. Connections. Opportunities. I saw this as a boy and I made a decision to meet as many people as possible in my life.

"And I did. I talked to bankers leaving their banks after closing, even if just to ask how a man's day went. I struck up conversations with bakers and barbers and a buccaneer or two," he chuckled, "and each one had something interesting to say. Better, they remembered me and started offering me small chances to earn a little money, or to meet someone else, or to try something new. I took them one and all. I soaked it all up, and by the time I was sixteen, I was running the paper mill in town. Sixteen. Can you believe it? By eighteen, I owned a few shares in a young electric company. By twenty, I was earning a salary and dividends totaling ten times any my parents had ever known. Each time I stepped up, Scott, two things made the step possible: connections and taking opportunities as the come. The first one you can control, and that's what I did. I made connections. I met people. I joined groups. I listened more than I talked.

"And the opportunities, those are out of your control. They come forth, often from the connections, but just so often, serendipitously. You can't control when those come, but you can decide to grab on with both hands and not let go. You'll know when you've got one because you feel the weight of your future in the balance. Your happiness, your success, your hopes and dreams. You'll feel them in your head and your heart when these opportunities arise. You'll know it intimately.

"So, all my life," he said, leaning back and sipping his drink, "I traded my time for connections, and when some great chance landed in my lap, I jumped on it with all my strength. I bought more shares of the electric company, and had enough money to invest it wisely in the markets. A tip from a good friend kept me from sinking during that harrowing depressive period before the second great war. No, unlike most, I grew my wealth. "

His words were full of passion but not bravado, sincerity but not weakness.

"And here it really comes to it, Scott. Here it is. I did all this without walking over others. I didn't harm those I sought to outpace. No, I helped when I could. I lived frugally, usually, and I gave to those less fortunate. These men," he said, sweeping his hand across the room, "they would step on their own mothers to pick up a slimy nickel in the gutter. And these types, they get wealthy because they're greedy. Selfish. I sit here, not because I associate with these men, but because, like them, my money has become power, and unlike them, I wish to ensure there is always an example of other paths which might lead one to this place, to this position. I'm here so that wonderful people like Madame Carole can come to me with someone willing to listen to a better, kinder way to find oneself in this room."

The air had seemed to go out of me for long periods of time as he spoke, and I tried my best to take his words to heart. "So, I should meet lots of people and get to know them," I said, "and when something important, an opportunity, is before me, I should go for it. But not if it means other people get hurt... right?"

The blind man smiled a thin smile full of satisfaction then laughed in a deep rumble. "Took me ten minutes to say what you boiled down to ten seconds. You're well on your way, my young man. Well on your way."

Aunt Carole squeezed my hand and I returned the movement, almost having forgotten her silk fingers were still gripped tight in mine. She said, "Thank you, Mr. Magnolia. May you always find yourself here to guide those who can be guided."

"Alas, my days are short and my past is long, my sweet Carole. But as I am able, I will make my way to these things and seat myself apart as I am able, if only to let them all know that theirs is not the only way." His cloudy gaze appeared to be searching out form in the men nearby, but his eyes never settled on any person. Instead, he turned to me and took my free hand as if he knew just where I'd held it by my knee. "Trust this woman with your life, son," he told me. "I've met more people than most, and I have yet to meet her equal. Trust her with your life."

Not that he needed to tell me such things, but my heart swelled to hear such wonderful words spoken about Aunt Carole. "I will, I promise. I love her."

That last bit slipped out somewhat unintentionally, though they were certainly true. My meaning was not so simple as that of a young boy, but held much of the weight in which a maturing young man might inject.

Mr. Magnolia chuckled and let go my hand. He nodded once towards Aunt Carole, and that seemed to be some sort of signal that our conversation was over. She stood and, still holding my hand, led me into the area where the other men were gathered. With Mr. Magnolia's words still fresh in my ear, I was introduced to each man individually. I had forgotten the last man's name almost as soon as I met the next. There were bankers and politicians, a former diplomat, business leaders, and even a union boss. These men spoke words of power behind closed doors, and there I was, shaking their hands and listening to them argue about market economics and foreign relations, subjects well outside of my understanding. But I didn't miss the weight of their words. I glanced from time to time behind me to see that Mr. Magnolia continued to sit silently as if unwilling to engage further with those in the room.

Aunt Carole broke us free before I was fully sunk into confusion of names and pedigrees and political stances and we finally went into the ballroom. I met more people there, mostly the men. Wives were sometimes introduced, but almost as an afterthought.

I began to see how much of an aberration Aunt Carole was in this world. Yes, certainly there were women at the gala, many of them single, and they were undoubtedly well-possessed and respected despite their gender. All of them dressed beautifully, elegantly. Each presented as a perfect implementation of money and leisure. But Aunt Carole was a predator where most seemed prey. She started conversations instead of waiting for them to find her. She told mildly ribald jokes which made me blush and giggle and had others slapping knees and guffawing. She contributed to conversations on subjects I didn't know she was so well versed in and could talk her way into forcing others, even the most stubborn debater, to question his own views. Aunt Carole impressed me minute after minute, and I already had high regard for the woman.

By the time she took my hand and led me to the dance floor, my heart was on my sleeve for all to see. I'm sure I was making ridiculous puppy love faces at her whenever her eyes found mine. I'd only feel a little silly about it all later, but in those moments, each tick of the clock found me falling for her deeper and deeper.

It didn't hurt that she engaged me, kept me involved in conversations, and regularly took my hand, a few times even settling my arm around her waist. I wasn't sure it was really proper, but I was more than happy to hold her that way, trembling, excited and nervous at once. On the dance floor, a slow tune started and Aunt Carole showed me how to hold her hands and waist, then she drew me close. To Aunt Carole, I really was her date that night, and it made me feel much more mature than my twelve years should have known.

My body hummed with arousal and anticipation and happiness. Aunt Carole's warmth soaked love into me and I found myself holding tighter against her. I could feel the weight of her breasts through her gown, though not nearly as well as in other outfits. My fingers near her waist sometimes shifted on their own and drew down the back of the gown. Her butt was probably several inches below the rich folds, but the mere thought of having my hand just over her lovely curves had me very excited and feeling just a little naughty.

The slow dance turned into a more modest number and she led me through some steps. We weren't as close for that one and I wished the band would play something soft and slow again. One more dance found the floor overly crowded and soon Aunt Carole twirled away and pulled me along. I admit I loved the feel of winding my way through the hedges made up of elegant gowns and dresses the women wore. It had a sort of Alice in Wonderland feeling, only, instead of being frightened and driven towards escape by monstrous shadows, I grinned and loved that I had a chance for brief touches of each fabric as we wound our way through the dancers.

Aunt Carole led me to the lounge opposite the dance hall. We could still hear the orchestra quite clearly, but the vibe was more mellow in the dark lounge. There were more men, mostly men, in conversation there than earlier, more cigar smoke, more loud boasts and laughs and passionate arguments. I tried to listen to each but the cacophony made it difficult to hone in on any one in particular. Two different photographers stopped us to take pictures of Aunt Carole with me at her side. I did my best to look classy even though I wasn't really certain how one did it as easily as Aunt Carole made it seem.

Along the way, Aunt Carole was greeted by several men and a few women, often outstretching her hand to be kissed, and a couple of times, offering her cheeks for the same in that way I'd seen displayed in films featuring European characters. I felt a little jealous as each kiss was planted near her lips, and I hoped she'd let me do the same when we were somewhere a little more private.

Again, I was introduced rapidly to each person, though, again, I was an afterthought as each man or woman sought out Aunt Carole's attention and not mine. That didn't stop her from referring to me and being sure I was not missed in each conversation. It really did feel nice to be so included.

By the time she leaned down to me and whispered in my ear, "I'm growing rather tired now, shall we depart?" I was buzzing with enjoyment of the time spent in such rarified company, but also feeling like I had had enough myself. I nodded my agreement, and Aunt Carole sought out an attendant who would call our waiting car to the front.

We stood outside holding hands, the muffled sounds of the party inside somewhat audible. There were others outside as well. Some smoking cigarettes and laughing, others looking flushed and perhaps more inebriated than was proper. I watched as one woman's risque amorous advances were quickly shut down by a man with scowl on his face and cane bracing his slightly-stooped frame. Aunt Carole saw my eyes on the two and whispered, "Every time, he pretends she isn't worthy of his time, yet, later tonight, that man would do anything to have her in his bed. Anything. What a silly game they play!"

I watched a moment, then narrowed my eyes. "Would you do that to someone, Aunt Carole? Pretend you don't like him but then... uh... you know... go to bed with him?"

"Would I?" she said quietly, "I suppose, yes. I've done so in the past, though I admit it makes me feel a little dirty. It's a game, Scott. All of this you've seen tonight, it's a game being played by people with the time and money and power to play it. Appearances, to many of these people, appearances are everything. They determine power in a way which is hard to notice, but that man's show of rejecting his lover in public... that is no accident. It is deliberate. It states, quite clearly for those who know how to see it, that he and he alone determines the nature of their relationship. Even in such a personal thing he must show his control. That man is one of three or four in this world who hold the brightest keys to the diamond mines in South Africa. Every twist of his lips, every shake of his head, every time his cane is raised up to make a point, nothing is by chance or accident."

I didn't really understand all the charades involved in the game being played, but I think I had an idea of what she meant in general. "But... would you ever do that to me?"

"Pretend I didn't want you in my bed when I really did?" she grinned with lips full of mirth.

My stomach fluttered. "Uh..."

She smiled and laughed, "No, Scott. I would never do that to you, whatever the appearance. Have I not held your hand all night? Have I not made you feel special this evening, in front of those to whom such things are tells of my intentions had I been with one of them?"

"I feel great!" I exclaimed, "I've had a great time tonight!"

She nodded, "You are special, Scott... so special to me. Sure, I must... play a game, of sorts... in front of others. They see you as a boy riding into this gathering of money and power on his Aunt Carole's coattails. They see a boy too young and fragile to understand the way the world works. They see only what they want to see this night, and to be sure, I am crafting a story of you that will be built upon over many years to come. But it is not the whole story, the details of which are yours alone to reveal when the time is right."

"I... don't understand. You say they see me as those things... What do you see?" I asked, more confused than when she'd started her answer.

She leaned forward slightly and whispered, "I see a young man with whom I am comfortable being the real me. The one outside this game, beyond these people. And tonight, Scott, tonight we take a next step into what I believe will be a wonderful time for both of us. Together."

I had no idea what she meant, but there was something in her whispered, sultry tone which suggested the surprises and delights of that evening were far from complete.

- - -

We sat in the sun room with a steaming cup of tea in our hands, sweetened with honey and rose water, Aunt Carole still in her voluminous gown and I in my tuxedo. It fit me well, thankfully, but it was becoming a bit stiff and less comfortable than the t-shirt and Levi's I usually wore.

She was quiet a while as we looked out over the city. There was no party at the top of the sister building, a calm darkness there which was very different from the celebration I'd seen the night before.

Aunt Carole finally broke the silence with her sultry voice. "I see all this, Scott, and I know I can have any of it any time I wish. I make a call, and I know just who to call, and I could own that building, or I could accept an invite to some gala, or I could control those who are below my social stature, and many above it. I see all this and I realize something, Scott."

"What?" I asked quietly.

"That none of it... none of it... brings me happiness."

I thought on that a moment. "So what does, then?"

Aunt Carole turned to me with a delicious grin. "You, Scott. You bring me happiness."

"Me?" It made no sense that a woman with all the means and money and access of Aunt Carole would consider me more than a fleeting enjoyment in such a world. A small piece of her grand empire.

"You." Aunt Carole turned towards me and brought one gloved hand up to my cheek. Slowly, she stroked my skin and I trembled with excitement. The silky touch made my dick rise and throb and I began to sweat in the hot tuxedo and the hotter contact from Aunt Carole. She added, "You're a young man now, Scott, though you'll always be my sweet boy."

Her hand slid along my cheek and down my neck. She leaned closer and I could smell her rose perfume strongly along with the natural aroma of her warm flesh. It was the most erotic sensation I'd ever experienced to that point in my life, and though I didn't really know about such things, I had the urge to touch my dick right then.

Slowly, her silk fingers moved down my chest. I wished desperately to shed my clothing and feel those fingers on my naked body.

Aunt Carole purred a question, "Have you ever thought about what a man and woman do together, Scott? When they aren't in public? When... in moments of quiet and calm... they have the time and desire to do more than talk? What do you know about such things?"

The answer was that I had no understanding beyond basic urges, and those were, up until that moment, rather ill-defined and general in nature. I shook my head but said nothing.

Aunt Carole smiled at me, then her sweet, alluring voice caught fire in a way I'd never known to be directed at me. "I think it is time you began to learn..."

Her hand slid down quickly to rest along my outer thigh, pausing a moment to stroke my leg, and then her fingers crept gently into my inner thigh, mid-way between my knee and my privates. My cock was throbbing beneath my suit pants and all I could do was swim in confusion and eagerness to feel Aunt Carole's touch wherever she wished to place that silky hand.

The movement between my legs came slowly but in no time, Aunt Carole's gloved hand was cupping my crotch. I knew right then she was interested in more than just petting even if I didn't really know the mechanics of what she might do.

"Mmm..." she purred as she lightly stroked my erection through my pants, "I think you enjoy this, my sweet boy..."

"Uh-huh," I managed to breathe, unable to do more than tremble and let Aunt Carole lead the way.

"I like this, too... I've wanted to touch you there for a long time, Scott... It's a happiness I hoped you might let me enjoy..."

Her fingers on my button were careful and deliberate, the top of my pants soon open, and Aunt Carole began to draw down my zipper. My mouth hung open in anticipation and arousal. I was far too naive to fully grasp what was happening, but it felt amazing and loving and I wanted nothing more than for Aunt Carole to touch me everywhere.

With continued deliberation, her fingers slipped over my underwear, stroking my dick in slow, long motions. She breathed, "Such a nice cock, my sweet boy. I can't wait to see it..."

Aunt Carole's gloved fingers parted the opening in my briefs and in what would become a pivotal moment in my maturation, she pulled my erection out and held it gently, smiling down as she watched my dick throb. Wetness was bubbling out of the opening in the tip with each pulse.

"Oh, yes... oh, such a lovely cock, Scott..."

I could only groan in pleasure.

Her silky fingers began to rise and fall along my length and I moaned, the sensation more wonderful and erotic than any I could have imagined. When I'd touched myself while wearing her glove the day before, the pleasure was nice, but Aunt Carole's gloved fingers were simply magical.

Aunt Carole's grip on my shaft tightened a bit and she sighed a peasant sigh. Up and down she stroked me with that silky fabric, just enough warmth radiating through to feel her body against mine, the soft gloves making it even more amazing. More bubbles of wetness trickled out and ran down one side of my cock, soon wetting her gloved fingers. Aunt Carole ignored the leaking fluid and tightened her grip as her fingers slid fully up and down my length.

I began to tense and a strange pleasure grew strong down there. I swelled in her fingers, swelled, almost burning in intensity. Aunt Carole's fingers drew out more fluid, more wetness coating her gloved hand. My hips rose on their own against her touch, and I felt myself straining, confused a little about what was happening, but too deeply engaged by my favorite person's attention to my pee-pee to dwell.

"That's it, my sweet boy... that's it... give it to me... let go, sweet boy..."

My cock swelled, swelled, throbbing, leaking. I looked at Aunt Carole's face and without a thought, brought my hand to her cheek and touched it. The warmth of her flesh rushed into me, flooding down into my crotch, and without warning, I exploded in the most pleasurable sensations I'd ever known.

Thick, white cream rushed out of my cock and rose high in the air, a second spurt following before the first had landed. It felt like a flood, a gorgeous, pleasure-filled flood. My dick spurted and spurted, the cream splashing down on Aunt Carole's gloved fingers, on the gown's sleeve, and even splattered in the many folds of her dress further down. Over and over I spurted, the fluids rushing out on their own as Aunt Carole stroked me through my very first orgasm. I fought for breath, still touching her face, and even moments later, after my cock had finished it's release, I pulsed and throbbed and washed in a glorious, wondrous pleasure unlike any known to a boy, or man, in all the eons of time.

I finally relaxed somewhat, breathing heavily. Aunt Carole leaned into me, still holding my half-hard dick in her gloved fingers, and she pressed her lips to mine. It was gentle and sweet, her kiss, delicate but confident. Her lips parted and mine did in return. Her tongue danced slowly along the edges, then slid inside my mouth, finding my tongue and then she moaned so beautifully when our lips sealed together.

That's the moment I finally understood what I meant to Aunt Carole, the exact point in my life when what I felt for her was so clearly mirrored in what she wanted from me. That kiss, enhanced by her glove-covered fingers gently holding my leaking cock, was my introduction to romantic love. It was sexual, yes, surely sexual. But it was full of a much deeper understanding between us. Aunt Carole loved me as a young man, as a lover would, and her kiss was full of her need to show me so. I did my very best to make sure she knew how deeply I felt the same for her.

For an hour or more, Aunt Carole and I kissed each other, her silk fingers dancing along my cheek regularly, and my hands sought out her face just to touch that beautiful woman as much as I could. At some point, she let go of my dick but that was nothing more than a small detail in the much broader moment. Her lips and mine danced together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

At another point, I was nestled against her breasts, the folds of the golden gown below sparkling a bit with reflections of the city's night lights. She whispered, "I love you so much, Scott."

"I love you," I replied, meaning every word with all my heart.

"Sleepy?"

I shrugged against her. "I guess."

"Well... this has been a night to remember for me, sweet boy," she purred. "A bit of sleep will do us some good. We'll need energy for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" I asked.

She smiled and kissed my forehead. "The next step in making you my little man."

I grinned and kissed her lips when she hovered just an inch from my face. Slowly I stood and Aunt Carole did the same. She turned and walked towards her bedroom. I felt sadness a moment when she put her hand on the doorknob and started to go inside. I really didn't want to be alone after such a rush of romantic love with Aunt Carole that night.

Her head came back out of her doorway and she smiled, saying, "Perhaps you might like to join me in my bed this night?"

I nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, be about it then," she said as she disappeared.

I followed quickly and stood inside a moment as she went into her bathroom. I wasn't really sure what was involved in spending the night in Aunt Carole's bed, at least not as a young man. I'd done so in earlier years when I was just a boy, but nothing like the kisses and touches had passed between us in those days, and everything, literally everything, about that moment was different than all those other nights in her room.

She returned and there was mild disappointment that she no longer wore her golden gown or her gloves. But that sensation passed quickly when I realized that only a thin slip of fabric now hung below spaghetti straps from her shoulders. Aunt Carole's breasts were prominent underneath, just a hint of darkness where they hung slightly. I remembered our moments in the bath when I'd seen her naked boobs and wished to do so again. The slip covered only down to her mid-thigh, the smooth, creamy flesh on her legs almost glowing in the low light in the bedroom. I felt my dick rising to erection.

Aunt Carole laughed then said, "Well... get out of your clothes, Scott. Can't sleep next to me like that..."

I shed my tuxedo in seconds. Aunt Carole took it from me and hung the pieces in her closet as I stood, waiting, in my briefs and undershirt.

"First thing in the morning," she told me when she returned, "you and I are going to share a bath. How does that sound?"

"I'd love that!" I exclaimed. The thoughts going through my head were not so much about how that meant Aunt Carole would be naked, but more about how it meant she and I would be sharing another private, intimate moment together. I couldn't wait.

She lit a thick, low candle and turned off the lights in the room, leaving the flickering flame to dance shadows around the walls. Aunt Carole slipped back the covers and motioned me inside. Her mattress was soft and luxurious, but even better, her body soon wrapped around me and her lips sought out my own. Wrapped in her arms, wrapped in her love, I soon found sleep in her warm embrace.

- - -

In the night, I woke often, though just to a fuzzy consciousness. Each time, I found comfort in Aunt Carole's arms around me. I'd turned over at some point, my back to her, and she had pulled me against her body, her warmth causing me to sweat a bit. It was such a lovely sensation to drift back off knowing her love for me was so real, so wonderful.

I woke later to see some light pushing through the thick bronze-colored curtains along one wall. I no longer felt Aunt Carole holding me and the sensation of loss was so powerful that I sprang out of bed and tried to find her.

She was in the kitchen, her back to me, the same slip the only thing covering her body. Something was sizzling and popping on the gas stove and the smell of frying meat made my stomach growl. Aunt Carole turned her head and smiled, "Morning, sweet boy." Fondness and relief rushed into me. I stepped up to her when she held out an arm and our hug was the thing which made me realize that the previous night had not been a young boy's fevered dream. I smelled her body more than her perfume as I pressed into her, and Aunt Carole's scent made me stir quite quickly.

We kissed again, less urgency than in the night, but no less lovely or sincere.

"It's been so long since I've prepared a meal I must offer my apologies ahead of time if this is not up to your standards," she said.

I laughed, "I'm sure it will be great. Everything you do is great, Aunt Carole!"

She grinned, "I do try. Why don't you run downstairs to the lobby for me? I've ordered some fresh orange juice and lovely croissants from the French cafe nearby. They should be here momentarily." Aunt Carole flipped the bacon in the skillet, then added, "And there's one more thing. In the shop downstairs, ask Margaret about the Jewels' Bath Creme. I'm hoping she finally has it this morning. I've been waiting weeks to try it."

"Okay."

I started towards the door.

"Scott?" Aunt Carole called out from the kitchen.

"Huh?"

"You should put on more clothes..."

I looked down, not remembering that I was still in my briefs and undershirt. "Oh!"

I heard Aunt Carole laughing and I grinned automatically. Rushing off to my bedroom, I thought about how I must be the most fortunate lad ever to have lived.

- - -

I returned to find Aunt Carole chatting on the phone, bacon resting on a platter near the stove. I sat down the heavy tray holding orange juice and croissants and leaned against the counter, listening.

"Oh, sure, that's what he'd like me to think. My dear, you know how he does go on and on..."

A moment of silence from Aunt Carole, then she said, "He can dream all he wishes. It will not happen. I don't care if he can afford to buy me a place in the royal family. I have no interest at all." Finally, one more pause and then, "I have all I need, I promise you," her eyes turned towards me, sparkling as she smiled, "he can just go dream about peeking up someone else's skirts for a change."

She laughed and then excused herself from the conversation, hanging the phone on its cradle. "So," she said to me, "I see the croissants and juice were on time. Any luck with the Bath Creme?"

"Oh!" I exclaimed, reaching into my front right pocket and pulling out the small bottle. "It's all she had. A sample, she called it. She said to promise you that the full bottles will be in by this time next month."

"Next month!" Aunt Carole shook her head. "I have half a mind to buy the company and just keep all they produce for myself!" Then she laughed again. "Well, still, it is lovely that she had what she had. After breakfast, you and me, we're going to give it a try."

I grinned and barely remembered just how hungry I was that morning.

- - -

There was an awkward moment in her bathroom when I realized how things had changed between us so fundamentally. What had happened the night before was still a sort of fuzzy uncertainty. Wonderful, lovely, but not yet in context. Aunt Carole bringing me to orgasm was the best moment in my life, but I had yet to fully connect it to expectations and further anticipation of more such moments. I knew they would come, of course, but the details of those experiences were still uncertain.

That awkward moment happened as the large, oval spa-style tub was filling with hot water, the shimmering bubbles from the Jewels' Bath Creme dancing and popping and nearly covering the water below. Aunt Carole had her back to me as I stood nearby, one hand rising to a strap holding up her slip. I knew, somewhere deep in my mind, what I was about to see, but I felt odd right then, like this was another boundary, another taboo, of sorts, which we were going to cross. A naughty one, I thought. It wasn't that I wished to stop or slow down or prevent that moment, it just wasn't easy to understand so early in my maturation process.

I felt awkward a few seconds as the other strap was slipped down her shoulder, and then everything changed again.

The slip fell to her feet, and Aunt Carole's naked body stood in front of me. My eyes drew down from her shoulders to her bare back to the cleft below her waist, moving down to explore the shadows and curves which looked so exquisitely lovely and soft, trailing no further as the hints of what was hidden just between her legs became obvious even to me at twelve.

Aunt Carole turned her head back with a smile, "Like?"

I nodded, "Uh-huh." I'm sure I looked rather silly, mouth agape, breathing deep and quick, my eyes unable to move up or down from her buttocks. Her creamy, smooth skin looked warm to the touch, slightly flushed with light brown and rose accents. The shadows below those lovely curves held some darkness and light. Am I really seeing what is between Aunt Carole's legs?! It seemed almost absurd that I might do so, that her nakedness might be so freely and lovingly offered.

Before I could look more closely, she turned and my world changed all over again.

Two heavy, curving breasts hung down a bit from her chest, modest reddish circles dotted with elongated tips which pointed, it seemed, right at me. She stood there as my eyes drifted to her slender abdomen. I paused at her navel, remembering how naughty it had felt to see such things just the day before, and I realized we'd blown right through whatever boundaries had been in place prior to that morning.

Because, as my eyes moved lower, Aunt Carole's most private flesh was now showing clearly for my attention.

Her thighs formed a vee, of sorts, but within that bald mound there was an obvious fleshy protrusion, a hint of something more private and special than anything I'd ever seen. I suppose I knew what I was seeing, in a way. I'd heard friends describe such places on women's bodies before, but I never really knew much about such things. I'd watched my mother dress and undress, but she'd always had a thick patch of dark hair there, nothing like the hairless flesh between Aunt Carole's thighs.

She purred her approval of my gaze. "Well... here I am, sweet boy. In the flesh. Naked... just for you..."

"Oh, jeez!" I said, feeling stupid as soon as the words left my mouth. "Uh... I mean..."

Aunt Carole laughed easily, one knee bending, her thighs parting a bit, the reddish flesh between opening ever-so-slightly. Her breasts danced and my attention was torn from one amazing sight to another. "I think you rather like seeing me like this..."

"Yes! Uh... oh, yes!"

She stood a moment, letting me look her over. If I'd have thought about it, I'd have realized my pee-pee was rock hard, even more than it had been the night before. Aunt Carole told me, "You won't be bathing in those clothes, will you?"

I shook my head and as rapidly as possible, I pulled off my Levi's and shirt, pausing only a moment before yanking free my underwear. I felt so incredibly naughty, getting undressed so easily in front of Aunt Carole. She'd seen my dick the night before, yes, but that was different. Here I was, standing nude before her, her body uncovered as well, and there was no way to hide my erection from her gaze. Not that I sought to do so, but it was really a vulnerable moment in my life, being naked and so visible, but there was no one in the world I would rather have seen me then than my Aunt Carole.

And she didn't disappoint me in her reaction. "Oh, dear boy. Oh, my. You are so beautiful!"

I surely blushed and twisted a bit under her gaze. A bit of shame was present due to my shyness, but, more so, the acceptance and delight in Aunt Carole's tone overcame such things, and I loved the way her eyes watched my dick bounce with each beat of my racing heart.

She strode towards me and then turned quickly, stepping up onto the tub and slowly settling down into the bubble-topped water. Her naked body disappeared below as she breathed out a lovely sigh, only her neck and head above. Aunt Carole smiled and beckoned me to her.

I stepped onto the edge and carefully slid into the water opposite her. Her legs slipped along mine immediately and I felt my toes against her thighs. The delight on her face continued to show through as she slowly began to massage my calves and feet under the water.

"Have you seen a woman naked before?" Aunt Carole asked me as I was melting to her touch. "Before just now?"

I thought hard about how to answer her. If I was honest, I had to tell her about my mother. If not, well, I didn't really want to lie to Aunt Carole. "Yes... um... my mom."

She smiled as she massaged me. "Ah, yes, a curious boy you are. And she was beautiful, yes?"

"Uh... yes..."

"And... did you touch yourself then?"

"Huh?"

"Your penis," she said bluntly, "like I did last night."

"Oh," I replied, "uh... no... never... that was the first time... I uh, I mean, I've touched it, I guess, but... not like that..."

She grinned, "A first for you, sweet boy. The first first of many, I think."

I felt something sliding across my balls and realized that Aunt Carole's foot had moved down and was gently swiping along my crotch. Her toes rose up to my dick and I stirred in response.

If there was any wrongness inside me right then, it was only in a small fear of being found out. Of getting caught. By whom, I didn't know. Maybe my mother or father might learn that Aunt Carole's toes were tickling my privates. That small fear was inside me and it added an edge of thrill which wasn't really all that bad. Maybe it made me hesitant a bit to really indulge in the moment, but that was my natural way regardless as I tended to be reserved and a little uncertain in most moments.

But that fear, that knowledge that what was happening was somehow naughty did nothing to diminish my pleasure or to dissuade me from giving in to the sensations. Her toes were surprisingly agile and careful, her eyes watching me closely as she massaged my dick under the water. She whispered, "Do you like that, little boy?" There was a hint of some sort of role playing going on in Aunt Carole's voice. I mean to say that, sure, I was a 'little boy' in that I was twelve, but somehow I knew that she was enhancing that aspect of my life, playing to it, and, I admit, hearing Aunt Carole call me that sent shivers through my body.

"Yes... it feels very nice, Aunt Carole..."

She purred and replied, "My sweet little boy... with such a nice penis... So many wonderful things we can do together with that lovely penis..." I was beginning to tense under the water, that straining, burning sensation starting to build up in my stomach and groin, much like it had the night before when Aunt Carole had used her gloved hand to stroke me. She noticed my rising urgency and slowed her toes, saying, "Now, now... I'm not ready for your release yet, sweet boy. Not yet. Oh, no... we have nothing but time today. Nothing but time to spend together. You'll have your release when the time is right, maybe two of them... but not here, in this bath... No, not yet, little boy."

I didn't fully grasp what she meant but I got the gist of it, I think. Her toes moved down and then slipped away. I had a sort of hollow, longing sensation below and, later, I would realize this was a bit of anticipatory blue balls. I'd been rather close to release when she stopped, and my body really wanted to see it through.

But it was not to be. Still, Aunt Carole was not cruel and she moved on to another game. "So," she said with her head just above the slowly dwindling cover of bubbles, "you saw my body before I got in, yes?"

I nodded.

"And you saw my privates? Between my legs?"

I nodded again, shuddering to remember the reddish folds so prominent down there.

"Do you know what you saw?"

"Uh," I replied slowly, "that is, uh... well... um..." I suppose the answer was in my head somewhere, that it was the place where babies would come from, but the mechanics of how babies got in there and why I felt such a strong urge to see and touch her there were lost on me.

Aunt Carole giggled, "Oh, sweet little boy. You have so much to learn. Here, come closer and sit between my thighs."

She pulled me through the water and spun me around, my back to her front. I felt her heavy breasts on my back, the tips hard, and I loved it when she wrapped her arms and legs around me. Aunt Carole took my right hand and rested it under the water on her thigh. I shuddered, my cock rock hard. "You're a special little boy, Scott," she whispered in my ear, "I am very, very picky in who I allow to put their hand where you have yours. And I'm even pickier when it comes to this..."

Her fingers on my wrist, she slowly drew my hand back behind me and between her legs. At first, I wasn't fully aware of what was in my fingers. But then she pushed her hips forward just a bit and the soft, slippery folds of flesh between Aunt Carole's legs were obvious and thrilling.

"Mmm... sweet boy, sweet boy," she purred, "You have your fingers on my pussy."

Aunt Carole's pussy!

I'd heard that term a time or two from friends in whispered giggles, but it meant nothing, out of context and distant in my young life. But in that bath, my hand behind me, under the water, Aunt Carole's pussy was real, soft and silky, warm like nothing else I'd touched, and on instinct I began to explore her there with eager curiosity. She cautioned me to be careful about my fingernails when one of my fingers found a part of her pussy which seemed to open into a small channel. I froze, afraid I might hurt her. She laughed, "Oh, don't stop, sweet boy... Mmm... don't stop... Go ahead," she said, "slide a finger inside me..."

Before I could move, Aunt Carole's hand rose from my chest and slid up my neck, slippery, soapy fingers teasing my skin before moving up to my cheek. I thoroughly loved her touch and it sent shivers though me a moment before I let my own finger press into the opening between her legs.

She was slippery there, probably from the bathwater, and I felt her shudder as I probed deeper. The heat inside Aunt Carole's pussy was unlike anything I had ever known. A furnace of warmth and wonder, I was careful not to let my nail scrape her skin, slowly working my way inside. I felt the opening clench around my finger and I giggled automatically.

"Mmm... yes, little boy... finger me... Like this..." One hand still stroking my cheek and neck, her other gently guided my exploring hand to move slowly in and out of her opening. It felt so right, but I knew what she was doing with me was undeniably naughty. That edge of fear for someone finding out grew stronger, but it only made me more eager to do as she commanded. After a moment of guiding my motions, Aunt Carole let go and leaned back against the edge of the tub, and I carefully followed her lead and slid my finger in and out of her pussy under the water.

"Mmm, Scott... that feels so nice. So lovely... You're inside me, little boy... sweet boy... Mmm... Oh, yes... Oh, that's nice..."

For long moments, her purring moans and my quick breathing were all I could hear. She seemed to be caught up in the way I was probing her body, her slippery flesh, and her hips and thighs started to tense and relax, tense and relax. The water in the bath sloshed as her movements grew urgent and rapid. I could feel a hardness against my palm, unaware that I was not only probing her opening but also touching a place between her legs which brought her even more pleasure.

"Oh... Oh, yes... yes..." Aunt Carole moaned.

I was so caught up that I didn't even realize she had wrapped a hand around my dick until I was starting to strain for release. Aunt Carole wasn't ready for that, though, and just as suddenly as I was sure I'd start shooting again, her hand moved to cup my balls, holding them gently as her body rocked behind me.

"That's the way," she purred, "that's it, sweet little boy... You're making me cum, Scott... Mmm... Mmm... Mmmmmmmm..."

She hummed her pleasure as her body tensed, tensed... I felt her fingers clamp my balls, just to the edge of discomfort. Her breasts pushed against my back again, and I heard her suck in her breath deep and fast. "Uhnnnnn... Oh, sweet boy! Oh! Oh, yes! Uhnnn... Uhnnn... Uhnnnnnnnnnnnmmmmmmm. Mmmmmm... Mmmmmm... Oh, sweet Scott!"

I didn't really understand things right then, but it was the first time in my life that a woman had orgasmed with me. I kept my finger inside her, the opening clenching and pushing my probing digit deeper inside as she climaxed. All I really knew was that Aunt Carole was feeling pleasure from something I'd done, and that made me the happiest, most proud boy in the world.

Slowly, so slowly, her hips slipped back and my finger was withdrawn from her hole. Aunt Carole kissed my neck passionately, sucking on my skin, then she turned my head back and, somewhat sideways, her lips pressed to mine. I could taste the desire in her mouth, her tongue rapidly seeking out mine and dancing so nicely as she panted and purred.

"That... my sweet boy... was simply lovely! Oh, my sweet Scott! You do know just how to touch a woman!"

I wasn't sure I knew any such thing, but if Aunt Carole said so, it must be true. I was warm and happy, and I loved that she was enjoying what we'd done.

"I think I'll end up wrinkled if I'm not out of here soon. What say we dry off and continue our fun in my bedroom?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, thinking that I wanted absolutely nothing more in my life than to keep touching Aunt Carole's body.

I stood first and stepped out of the water, grabbing a towel. Aunt Carole's eyes were drawn to where my dick was engorged, swollen, bigger than I could remember it ever having been before. She smiled at it, reaching her hand out to touch me there for a few seconds, then, before I could strain for release, Aunt Carole stepped out of the bath and grabbed her towel.

I watched closely all the previously-taboo parts of her body which were exposed. Aunt Carole's heavy breasts hung so wonderfully. Her buttocks were firm and soft in my eyes, a wonderful mix of tone and curve and weight on her slender frame. And between her legs, especially when she bent forwards away from me, the hairless, rosy-red folds were the most erotic and arousing sight a boy could ever know.

I forgot to even use my towel I was so caught up. Aunt Carole was already dry while I continued to drip. She looked at me after standing back straight and laughed, "Nothing in your life like seeing Aunt Carole's little pussy, sweet boy?"

I shook my head, unable to speak I was so aroused.

"You'll get a better look, I promise, but let's get you dry first." She used her towel to wipe my body, pausing only briefly between my legs. Aunt Carole gently fondled my cock and balls, then, when she was satisfied, she tossed her towel and mine into a hamper nearby and said, "Come with me."

I would have followed my naked Aunt Carole anywhere and everywhere, her supple breasts bouncing as she turned and walked out of the bathroom, her firm, slender, soft butt swaying side-to-side in a way any boy would have found fascinating.

She made me relax on the bed and wait for her, telling me, "I want to show you something..." Aunt Carole disappeared into her voluminous closet and I felt like a bundle of happy nerves. The urge to touch my dick was strong and I did so, trying to mimic the sensation of Aunt Carole's fingers there. It wasn't the same, of course, but touching myself did feel rather good.

Before I'd lost myself completely, Aunt Carole swept back into the room and took my breath away.

She wore the odd thing I'd seen hanging in the closet the day before. White and lacy, holding her breasts firmly above, very tight around her stomach, the front of the thing down just below where I knew her pussy would be. Straps held in place two sheer black stockings which covered her thighs, calves, and feet.

And, best of all, she wore silky, light-blue gloves which rose up to her mid-forearm. If I would have looked, I'd have seen my cock leaking juices from such a sight.

Aunt Carole smiled and let me look at her a moment before she climbed onto the bed and put her body over mine, her knees straddling my calves, her breasts hovering over my dick. "So," she purred, "my sweet little boy thinks Aunt Carole is sexy, yes?"

"Yes!"

"And he wants her to play with him, yes?"

"Oh, yes!"

She giggled in a sexy manner, then looked down at my groin, my pee-pee bobbing quickly just inches from her breasts. "You're going to enjoy this, Scott..."

Aunt Carole shifted her body down a bit and put her face very close to my dick. I didn't know what she was going to do, especially after a silky hand slid over my length and started to stroke me gently. I strained quickly and I felt like I did the night before.

"Oh, no," she said quietly, "too fast, sweet boy." Her hand left my dick and slid onto my thigh. "I want to tease you first..."

I was so ready for release that my cock twitched and sent a thin, tight jet of fluids up into the air, splashing against Aunt Carole's chin. She laughed and looked down at where more clear fluid was leaking from the tip of my dick.

For the next several minutes, Aunt Carole completely ignored my almost-painfully swollen cock. Instead, she touched my body with her gloved hands, moving up my sides and down my legs, curling her fingers under my arms, tickling me. I giggled and she doubled her tickling. I began to squirm, laughing and trying, only-somewhat, to get away. Aunt Carole held me down with her body, finding that certain spots on my sides which were really sensitive, and she tickled me until I almost peed myself from laughter and gasped deeply for breath.

Suddenly, a hand slid over my mouth, holding my lips closed. The silky touch of the glove was magical on my flesh. I was consumed by Aunt Carole in that moment, staring up at her, begging her to touch me, to love me, to play with my body however she wished.

One finger parted my lips and the gloved tip slid inside my mouth. "Suck it, little boy." I closed my lips around her silky digit and did so. Even my tongue enjoyed the soft, delicate fabric as I drew in my breath. For a moment, I suckled as best I knew how, as a baby might. I could see Aunt Carole's heavy breasts hanging, swaying, the reddish tips hardened. I reached a hand out to touch them and Aunt Carole purred her approval.

I was fascinated by the tips of her boobs. I tried to remember what my friends called the reddish-pink flesh, but the term escaped me. Aunt Carole's breathless plea caught me up. "Pinch my nipples, sweet boy. Mmmm..."

Nipples. Yes, that was what those lovely protrusions were called. I slid fingers around one of the erect tips and gave it a light squeeze. Aunt Carole's body rolled above me and for the first time since climbing on the bed, her eyes closed and her head drew back. Again I pinched her there, again. The gloved finger in my mouth had become soaked as I sucked it, and I redoubled my suckling as I squeezed Aunt Carole's nipples.

She began to breathe heavily. Her silky finger pushed deeper into my mouth and I gagged lightly. She laughed easily, starting to sweat, and said, "You'll learn to take it further, little boy, but you are doing so well right now..." Her finger pushed in again, but didn't probe as deeply into my mouth as before, and I started sucking it again.

In a quick movement, Aunt Carole withdrew her finger and her hand was again clamped over my mouth. I froze, uncertain what she wanted next, but, as always, Aunt Carole led me along as her body twitched and strained, my fingers locked around one of her nipples. "You're all mine, Scott. All mine. Do you like that?"

I nodded and muffled a 'yes' into the glove.

"I could kidnap you, you know, no one would ever know..."

I thought briefly that maybe my mother and father might know, but the objection passed quickly and I wished Aunt Carole would kidnap me and let me live with her forever.

"My sweet little boy," she purred, "so sweet and lovely, so deliciously naughty letting his Aunt Carole touch him like this... You want more, Scott? You want me to touch you more?"

I nodded emphatically.

Keeping her hand over my mouth, she slid down a bit. Aunt Carole's breasts rubbed against my dick and I strained at the amazing sensation. Further down, her head was soon right over my erection. She smiled up at me briefly then did something I never knew might happen.

Aunt Carole's lips slid down over the head of my cock as her free, gloved hand grasped my shaft. I swooned and swelled, my muffled cry caught by the silky hand over my mouth. Aunt Carole's wet mouth was warm and slippery. She hummed lightly, drawing me deeper into ecstasy, her silky fingers moving up and down the lower half of my cock while her lips bobbed on the top half.

Few moments in my life were more powerful than the first time I filled Aunt Carole's mouth with my fluids. I strained and groaned, trying to cry out, to breathe through my mouth, but Aunt Carole's gloved hand clamped down harder. My dick exploded in burning, sweeping pleasure as her lips locked around the head. I could feel my release from head to toe, filling Aunt Carole's mouth as I strained and writhed and tried to empty every drop between her lips. I could hear her moaning as if from a distance, my eyes closed, my seed rushing out of me like never before.

It could have been seconds or hours later that I finally opened my eyes, looking down my body to see Aunt Carole's lips slowly sliding off my softening dick, creamy, sticky fluids hanging in a glob from her lower lip. She slurped as her mouth came free and I saw her swish my juices a moment, using her tongue to capture that which tried to escape, and then she flushed the cream down her throat in two quick gulps.

"Oh, sweet Scott... Oh, you taste just lovely!"

"Mmmmm..." I purred under her gloved hand. She finally shifted it from my mouth and stroked my cheek and neck, wiping some of my sweat along and making goosebumps rise up on my flesh. I felt warm and wonderful, and when Aunt Carole pulled herself up and fell over me, her lips pressing onto mine, I knew what it meant to really be in love. Only someone in love with me would have done what Aunt Carole did, right? It was so special and amazing, to let me shoot my cream in her mouth, only a true lover would have done such a thing. Naive, yes I was, but that's what it felt like to me, and, honestly, I have no doubt that was the way she felt for me.

We kissed a long time, Aunt Carole using her body to keep me in place. The flavor of my juices was nothing like I expected, not that I really had any expectations having never thought that someone might want them in their mouth. It was pungent and salty, and I was far from disgusted to share those flavors with Aunt Carole. Hell, I'd have shared anything with her, anything she wanted.

And what she wanted then was my fingers between her legs.

Aunt Carole took one of my hands and moved it to where my half-erect dick was resting against her inner thigh. She brought my fingers up and placed them against the opening I'd explored in the bathroom. "Finger me, little boy..."

This time, her pussy felt somewhat different. Surprisingly, I found that it was very wet and slippery. It couldn't have been the bathwater. She'd dried herself there and, besides, that was eons earlier, a lifetime ago. The wetness seemed to have been made naturally, between her legs. I loved that sensation on my fingers, the slippery flesh, the soft skin, so smooth and bare and nothing like what I might have felt between my mother's hairy legs had my mind ever explored such fantasies. No, the slippery baldness down there was amazing and a real treasure to explore.

Inside Aunt Carole's pussy, I felt her tightening again around my finger. I remembered what she'd wanted in the bath and I started to withdraw and push back in, timing my rhythm to the way her body pushed down and pulled off my penetration. My penis was rising again, and Aunt Carole's face became a mask of tension and pleasure.

All at once, her limbs seemed to flare. Her hips rose and fell fast several times, her breasts pressed down against my body. Aunt Carole pushed her lips to mine, moaning into me, vibrating me to the core, and her pussy twitched and opened, clamped down and tightened, and then, as Aunt Carole moaned a loud, muffled, "Mmmmmmmmmmmm..." into my mouth, I felt her body shudder into release, wetness spreading down my finger and onto my hand.

She rode me for several long seconds before a final wave of shudders passed through her and Aunt Carole pulled back from our kiss, collapsing over me, her head on my shoulder, her gloved hands sliding over my arms and sides and face. My hand became trapped between us, my finger slipping out of her opening. I could feel her wetness dripping onto my skin. It was, without a doubt, a most wonderful sensation.

Aunt Carole held me, squeezing herself around me, almost to the point of smothering me. My breathing was deliberate and deep, and I was momentarily fearful of not being able to inhale fast enough to avoid passing out.

As if she knew the very edges of my pleasure and discomfort, Aunt Carole rose over me and I sucked in my breath. Her smile warmed me fully and I laughed without a thought. I felt so good!

She looked down our bodies as I slowly moved my now-numb arm from between us. I could see wetness on my hand from her pussy. Aunt Carole took hold and brought my fingers up to her mouth, slowly sucking each one between her lips, licking the fluids from my flesh, as feeling started to return. My dick rocked between us, fully raging once more.

Aunt Carole sat back on her knees, her pussy open slightly. I stared in wonder. I'd not really seen it so clearly before, and when she saw my gaze, Aunt Carole spread her knees wide and leaned back further. One of her gloved hands slid down her smooth mound and I watched her tease her flesh a moment. She then used two fingers to spread open the reddish flower between her legs.

The insides of Aunt Carole's pussy were surprisingly pink, a light, white cream sticking in wet, random globs. She spread herself wider and I could see the inner flesh twitching, pushing more light, white cream out of the small opening. "You did this, sweet boy. I'm so aroused by you. I want you to always touch me, Scott. Always touch me."

"I will!" I exclaimed, "I promise!"

She purred and slowly slid her gloved hand away from her privates, letting the red folds close on their own, a drop of cream sliding from her flesh and down one thigh. Aunt Carole let out a long breath, shuddered, then smiled and said, "Enough for now. We have almost three weeks together... To teach you right, we must take our time, yes?"

I didn't respond, not sure what she meant.

"Yes," Aunt Carole answered for me, "we must take our time. Too much too soon and you'll not appreciate it all as I intend. And, besides," she added with a wicked grin as she rose off the bed, letting her gloved hand slide slowly over my dick and off my body, "I rather enjoy teasing you..."

- - -

My world felt all fuzzy in the hours following our play on Aunt Carole's bed. My body hummed, I felt both confused and confident, relaxed and tense at once. I knew instinctively that Aunt Carole had made me a man, somehow. My knowledge of sex prior to my trip to stay with her that summer was limited to bare hints from friends of taboo terms, naughty suggestions, and private places. None of it really stuck in a way I could identify with, and only after seeing Aunt Carole's naked flesh, feeling her touching me, pleasuring me, was I able to finally start to feel grown up about sexual things. I thought she'd already made me a man with what we'd done, but as the days ahead would teach me, I had a lot more to learn from Aunt Carole.

Over the next few hours, Aunt Carole was quite amorous with me. Kissing me, teasing my thighs, telling me to cup her breasts or squeeze her bottom. She'd removed the corset earlier then put on nothing more than a slip to cover her body, and I wore a robe which she regularly swept open to touch my ever-throbbing dick.

We cuddled and sipped tea and ate macaroons in the sunroom, looking out over the city's sprawling urban landscape. The wind blew strong outside as a storm front raced in, the grey clouds growing thicker by the minute. I could hear the breeze whistling and screaming against the building. We were so high up that the room swayed just enough to be noticeable. Or, I realized, maybe it was just my body humming along with Aunt Carole's as she, yet again, slid a hand between my thighs and gently teased my balls with her silk fingers.

"Did you enjoy what I did to you with my mouth?"

Memories of filling Aunt Carole's mouth flooded my brain and my cock jumped just above where her gloved hand was stroking my testicles. "Oh, yes!" I said enthusiastically, hoping she would do it again right then. I'd been so close to release all day that there seemed to be an endless stream of thin, clear fluid leaking from my dick, and I doubted it would take much to make me shoot again.

But Aunt Carole had something else in mind. A new lesson.

"I want you to do the same to me."

"Huh?" I asked in confusion, mostly thinking about how good her hand felt on my flesh below.

"Your mouth. My pussy. I'll teach you," she said, "how a woman wishes to be eaten."

"Eaten?"

She laughed. "Ah, sweet little boy, you are so young and naive. I love being able to teach you such naughty things. Let's have a bath again, and my little boy will get his first lesson in really pleasuring his Aunt Carole..."

- - -

Our bath was quick and urgent. I could feel Aunt Carole's excitement, and my own was enhanced by the way my penis refused to soften and continued to feel like it might explode any moment. We rushed towels over our bodies and then Aunt Carole led me to the living room.

Her naked flesh spread wide before my eyes after she settled in the middle of a plush, white cushion, the smooth skin there so beautiful and arousing. I know now that she must have had herself waxed down there for there was no sign of stubble or other irritation. No, Aunt Carole's pussy was smooth and creamy, like whipped butter, reddish flesh swollen between her thighs, not a hair in sight. Even lower, I saw her dark butthole, wrinkly and brown but just as hairless.

Her arms drew me down and I knelt between her legs. Up close, I tried to memorize every detail. One side of her pussy was folded over her opening, the other slightly-splayed out to the other side. A prominent nub was erect near the top of her slit, dancing lightly as she breathed, pulsing with each heartbeat. Using her fingers, Aunt Carole spread her pussy wide and then told me, "Kiss it lightly..."

I did as she asked. My lips felt the heat immediately as I kissed her flesh right over the small opening. Aunt Carole purred and said, "Again. All over my little girl..."

Gently, I pressed my lips higher, then lower, then higher again. Aunt Carole really liked it when I kissed the hard flesh at the top of her pussy. Her hands grabbed the back of my head and she pulled me against her crotch, forcing my lips down onto her hard nub. Aunt Carole began to ride my face, holding me in place, and my lips parted on their own to try to suck in breath.

It caused my tongue to dart out and I tasted Aunt Carole there for the first time. Her flesh was lightly-meaty and clean, better than the finest filet I'd ever known. She shifted her hips and my tongue slid lower and into the small opening. Pungent creaminess, salty brine, a wonderful lemony-sour-tart, and light, sweet rose-and-honey danced on my tastebuds, and my brain was consumed with lapping up that amazing, complex flavor.

Aunt Carole moaned and sighed, "Oh, sweet little boy... Yes... That's it... Lick me, little boy. Lick my little girl down there..."

I doubled my efforts, using my tongue as if licking ice cream from a cone, slipping it up and down her slit, letting her grind against me when it passed over the hard flesh above. I could taste richer juices beginning to flow out of Aunt Carole's hole, and I swallowed it as if it was nectar.

She began to shudder and her hips rose, her hands tightening on my head, crushing my nose against her smooth mound, my tongue flittering deliberately across her hard nub. "Oh, Scott! Oh, yes! Oh, sweet, sweet little boy! Oh, yes!" Her orgasm crashed down and her thighs squeezed around my head, trapping her hands there and cutting off my ability to take a breath. I didn't panic, too caught up in pleasuring Aunt Carole to even notice how I couldn't breathe.

Her body rolled for long moments, her juices flowing down my chin, and somehow I managed to not pass out by the time her knees weakened and fell away, releasing my head and letting me suck in the moist air and heady scents between her legs.

The scent of her was something without equal. For once, I smelled no perfume on her, and though her sweet rose fragrance was intoxicating, the natural aroma of her hot genitals made me swoon and sway with what I know now was lust.

If I'd have known more about sex, I am certain I would have risen over her and slid my dick into Aunt Carole's swollen pussy. But I didn't and she had a different idea of how my next release should happen.

Aunt Carole slid her hands into my armpits and raised me up to stand on the edge of the couch, moving her body higher so that her mouth was just inches from my cock, fluids running freely from the tip.

She sucked me in suddenly and I knew without a doubt my release would rush out quickly. Her hands grasped my buttocks and she pushed my groin against her so that her nose pressed against my mound. I felt her gag lightly with my dick so far into her mouth, but she didn't pull me away.

I began to swell, swell, looking down at Aunt Carole to see her eyes watching me. The sight of that beautiful, sensual woman's lips around my dick sent me over the top.

I cried out in a long moan as fluids rushed from my dick and down her throat. I could feel her swallowing as each spurt fired against her tongue. I only understood much later how much control it took for her to swallow my cream that way, but in that moment, the pure pleasure of long-teased relief was all I knew, bliss flooding my body as I emptied myself down Aunt Carole's throat.

Growing sensitive, I pulled back and my penis was softening as it leaked cream against Aunt Carole's chin. She slurped and licked what she could, then used her finger to swipe a small glob of cream from the tip of my wet, slippery cock and thrust it into her mouth, swallowing with a wonderful smile.

Her arms swept me onto her quickly. Aunt Carole folded me in such a way as to cradle me like a baby, my face resting on one of her heavy breasts. She used a hand to push her nipple against my lips and, like a baby, I suckled her, content and wanting nothing more than for Aunt Carole to hold me like that forever.

- - -

The storm rushed in that day and didn't let up long into the evening. To Aunt Carole and me, it didn't matter. We spent most of that time cuddling, dozing, both naked and shameless together. Neither of us had eaten since breakfast, and it was only when her stomach growled so loud as to wake us both from our nap in her bedroom that we reluctantly decided to figure out our dinner.

Aunt Carole was in no mind to go out just then, regardless of the weather, so she asked, "What would you like to have delivered?"

I shrugged, "I don't know..."

"Hmm," she replied, "well, if you don't know, I suppose you could just eat me again."

We both laughed and I nodded, "Oh, yes! That's good for me!"

She grinned and shook her head, "And you will, but I think we need food first..."

So, she made a call and I heard her ask for fresh fruit and roasted duck and buttered peas. I didn't really care what she ordered. I'd eat it quickly and think about how much better it would be to slide my mouth down between Aunt Carole's legs again.

- - -

I stood in the rather calm lobby, just inside the door out of the apartment building, waiting for Aunt Carole to finish giving some instructions to the attendant at the desk. Despite the rain outside, she'd told me after we ate that she wished to take a walk. I'd dressed as she asked, in a t-shirt and Levi's.

She, in turn, somehow managed to look fabulous despite the fact that her attire was as casual as any she likely owned. A brown, flowing blouse with ruffled curves accenting a hint of her bosom gave way to a long, black skirt with similar ruffling at the bottom. The skirt hung low, near her calves, and underneath, she wore sheer, tan hose and bright red, diamond-sparkled heels. Her hair was somehow immaculate, caught in a wave of sorts, shining in the bright lights of the lobby. Dangling earrings and a silver chain, a bright red gemstone set in a pendant hanging down, accented her gorgeous face, lipstick and liner highlighting her youthful skin.

Over her outfit, she'd wrapped a luscious brown and golden-tan fur coat. I had no idea if it was real or faux, but it gave Aunt Carole an elegant, soft, sensual appearance, even more so than usual. Twice, she'd let me wrap my arms around her in the apartment just so that I could press my face against her and feel the soft fur on my cheek.

And naturally, her hands were deliciously covered by a pair of golden gloves which were shorter than the others I'd seen her wear, coming only to the edge of her wrist. They looked more like riding gloves than the soft, silky ones she'd been wearing, more workmanlike and less playful. Still, the sight of them covering her fingers made me wish for them to slide over my dick and make me release again.

She turned from the attendant and walked over to me. The doorman inside grabbed the bronze door handle and paused, asking, "Sure you want to be out in this mess, Madame Carole?"

Aunt Carole laughed easily, "I'm certain. No spot of rain will ruin my night, I assure you Barnard."

"Whereabouts are you to this night?"

"Dirty Mo's."

Barnard looked rather perplexed. "Are you sure you don't want a car and a hired man?"

Aunt Carole smiled. "I'm certain."

The man nodded his understanding and opened the door. Aunt Carole led the way and I followed, Aunt Carole pausing only briefly to answer similar questions from the doorman standing outside under the awning. He passed her a broad umbrella, already open, and Aunt Carole took my hand in hers and we strolled quickly down the sidewalk with the rain pattering down on the fabric above us.

"What's Dirty Mo's?" I asked as I squeezed her gloved hand, deciding it was softer than expected, but also a touch rougher than the others, as I'd thought it might be.

"A place every young man should go from time to time. You'll see."

With that, she quickened her pace and I had to trot just to keep up with her long strides.

The rain splattered us despite the umbrella, the wind whipping around the city street in swirls and bursts. Thankfully, it was quite warm that night.

We passed others along the walk as we left the upscale neighborhood and found our way deeper into a less affluent one. Not poor or shabby, I thought, just not rich like the homes and shops around Aunt Carole's apartment. We passed buildings one after another, some many stories tall. I spotted a tailor, two barbers, and several shops in which I could only wonder what they sold. Restaurants were casual, it seemed, and we walked by several of those, as well.

The people we saw were a mixed sort. Some well-dressed and rushing into cars or buildings. Others seemed more like evening or night workers. Laborers, some were, but also service workers and government employees. Business owners, perhaps, but not rich ones, for the most part. Patrolmen. Cleaning women. Immigrants with moderate olive and light brown skins.

Near where we stopped finally, there was a slightly different crowd. Darker in skin, hairstyles I'd never seen. A few white folks, sure, but most were negroes or brown-skinned people from the Caribbean and lower Americas. I heard languages I couldn't identify and easy laughter which needed no translation. Women and men mingled fluidly and shared arms and conversations.

But what really caught my attention was the music I could hear coming from the place called Dirty Mo's. It had a beat unlike any I'd really known. Funky. Uptempo. But also very chilled and relaxing. I'd learn only later that it was the beginnings of the revolution in rock music I was hearing, more famously found a bit later in the Village, but, at Dirty Mo's, it was early for its time and beyond my understanding in context. All I knew was that I loved the rhythm and the melodies and the way it made me want to dance.

Aunt Carole was greeted by a causally-dressed brown-skinned man at the door. "A plus-one tonight, Madame Carole?" he asked with a grin.

She returned his smile, "A very lovely plus one, thank you, Marcus."

"Please, let me take your coat." Marcus took hold and carefully held the furs as Aunt Carole unraveled herself. "I'll get you a good seat," he added.

The man went ahead of us, carrying the fur coat, and was replaced by a young black woman at the podium outside. Aunt Carole took my hand again and, slowly, we made our way inside.

The music grew louder and I could see the musicians. All were black, young and old, with the exception of the drummer, a large, mid-aged white man with a reddish-brown beard long enough to cover his thick neck. There were two guitarists and a saxophone player, a keyboardist, and two beautiful females in knee-length skirts singing and dancing to the pulsing song. The low lights in the lounge were overwhelmed by the bright lights reflecting off the stage equipment. Speakers and wires and control boxes were everywhere. I'd never imagined so much was required for a band to play such wondrous tunes, but my body swayed in time and I couldn't stop myself from grinning at this fascinating experience.

The air was somewhat smoky from cigarettes and cigars. I think I saw a pipe being toked, too. If I'd been less caught up in the moment, I might have found it a bit difficult to breath.

Marcus rushed up to us and held out his hand. Aunt Carole took it lightly, and the man led us to a table about mid-way between the stage and the curved wooden bar along the opposite side. Marcus helped her sit and then pushed in her chair as I sat down. He said, "Coraline will be with you in just one moment, Madame Carole. May I assist you further?"

"Not at this time. Thank you, Marcus," she added, sliding her hand into his and passing him a roll of paper money which he took with gratitude before nodding and returning towards the door.

A woman was beside me suddenly and she said loudly, "Madame Carole, such a genuine pleasure to see you again!"

Aunt Carole smiled and nodded, "You as well, Coraline. My, you are getting close, yes?"

I followed Aunt Carole's eyes to the dark-skinned woman's obviously swollen abdomen. Coraline smiled and laughed, calling over the driving music, "Five more weeks, Jesus willing."

"Excited?"

"Very much so, Madame Carole. I can't wait!"

Aunt Carole smiled and reached for the woman's hand, taking it and stroking it gently with those gloved fingers. I felt just a touch of jealousy right then, that someone else should experience such glorious sensations, but it passed quickly and I actually rather enjoyed watching Aunt Carole stroke the pretty black girl's hand. "If you need anything, you'll tell me?"

"Oh, I will. Th-thank you so much, Madame Carole! Uh... will you be imbibing this night, Madame Carole?"

"Just one or two, I think. A Manhattan seems appropriate, yes? Or maybe a rye." Aunt Carole's mirth was clear in her tone.

"Both good choices!" Coraline exclaimed, "but I think you prefer a neat gin most nights?"

"Most nights," Aunt Carole replied, "but this is a special night, with my special date, and I think I'll have that Manhattan. This is Scott," she said, taking my hand and sliding it right into Coraline's, "my nephew, of sorts, and my fabulous date each night of his visit this summer. Aren't I the lucky fox?"

"Quite lucky, Madame Carole!" Coraline said, then turning to me, she added, "Very glad to meet you, Scott. Madame Carole has a fine date this night!”

I grinned. Her fingers were rougher than I'd expected, like someone who had spent years working with her hands. Coraline was probably no more than twenty-two, but her face suggested a woman whose life might have been much more difficult than mine. Despite their roughness, I enjoyed touching Coraline's hand for a few seconds.

“And what for you, Master Scott?”

“Uh...”

Aunt Carole spoke up for me, “Root beer, just a splash of the hard stuff, if you please.”

“Right away!” Coraline shouted over the music's crescendo.

“Hard stuff?” I asked.

“You're old enough for a taste, I think. Just a taste.”

I figured out after the first sip that it meant alcohol had been added to my root beer. It wasn't heavy or nearly as bad as I feared, and pretty soon, I'd downed the whole glass listening to the next lively tune being frantically driven on stage, hoping Aunt Carole would order me another.

Aunt Carole watched Coraline walking by, the woman's prominent bulge showing her pregnancy quite clearly. “Do you know how babies are made, Scott?” Aunt Carole whispered after leaning in close to my ear.

“Uh... Not really...”

She took my hand under the table and continued to whisper. “A man puts his penis inside a woman's pussy, and then he spurts his cream inside her.”

“Cream... uh...” I was stumped a second. She laughed and I felt stupid. “Oh,” I recovered, grinning, “right.”

“We're going to do that soon,” she purred into my ear. “You're going to put your penis inside me and shoot your cream deep into my body.”

My dick was rock hard. I asked, “Uh, Aunt Carole... won't you get pregnant?”

She laughed lightly, “Oh, dear boy, there is no worry of that. No worries at all.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She watched the band and said nothing a moment.

I spoke up, “Um, Aunt Carole? Will we do that tonight?”

She looked at me with mirth. “You think you might enjoy that?”

“Oh, yes!” I said quickly.

“Not tonight,” she told me. “We both should recover our energy first. It will be special, sweet boy. So special for both of us that we cannot rush. No,” she added, sliding a gloved hand along my thigh discretely under the table, “as I said, I love teasing you...”

- - -

It was probably the latest return home in my life. We left Dirty Mo's sometime after three in the morning, and for our return, Aunt Carole called for a car to take us to her building. We'd stripped down and collapsed under her covers in the darkness of her bedroom, a single flickering candle casting low, shimmering light on one side. The last thing I recalled that night was Aunt Carole's arms wrapping me tight and hearing her whisper her love for me in my ear.

I was still buzzing the following morning when I found Aunt Carole in the tea room with the sun already high in the morning sky. I felt a little drained, to be honest, a short night of sleep and an intense period of hours, both confusing and exciting, in my recent past. But that didn't stop me from wanting Aunt Carole to touch me and to again touch her, my dick half-swollen as we sat together sipping tea and eating lightly-sweet almond cookies.

The city, as it always was, seemed to be living thing. Cars rushing down the road or caught up in gridlock. People rushing by them, sometimes gaining ground much faster on foot. Steam rose all over, shimmering against the late-morning blue sky. Pigeons fluttered around rooftops, scattering each time a heavy vent shuddered nearby. The cacophony of the living city's occupants and machines was mostly muffled in the room, but it was a constant, bubbling drone underneath the quiet.

Aunt Carole wore her slip, my robe carelessly splayed open as I sucked lightly on her left nipple, then her right. She'd not said a word to draw me against her, offering me her breast silently, and we both knew I would do as she wished. Like an infant, I suckled her tit and took comfort in the warmth of Aunt Carole's body.

We passed an hour or two just like that, her soft touches on my cheek or arm or thigh, gentle teases of my genitals, her nipple between my lips. She showed me how to massage her breasts as I suckled, my hands working carefully to fondle and caress those wonderful, soft-but-firm tits.

My legs grew cramped some point long before either of us wanted to move. But I slowly had to pull away and sit back, stretching and trying to work feeling back into my calves and feet.

Aunt Carole grinned a sleepy, lovely smile and said, “Here, let me take care of you...”

She dropped to her knees and propped one of my feet up on the low table nearby, settling her hands around one of my calves. Gently but with confidence she rubbed my leg and foot, stopping a moment to gently tickle me until she passed on and worked with my other leg, soon tickling that one as well. She eyed the way my dick was sticking straight up from my uncovered groin.

With careful movements, she stroked my outer thighs, massaging my muscles and making me melt into the low couch. I thought she was going to suck me again, but Aunt Carole stopped and stood up, saying, “I'll be right back. Don't move...”

I longed for her every second she was gone, and not just because I felt like my dick was going to go off on its own. When she returned, I throbbed my arousal to see the golden gloves she'd worn the night before were again covering her hands. Once more, she knelt down, and started massaging my outer thighs.

Over several minutes, she tickled and teased my balls and cock, seemingly aware of my urgency, but ensuring that I hang out right on the edge until she was ready for me to release. It was the most amazing sensation to ride that wave with Aunt Carole driving my anticipation and my pleasure to new heights.

Several more minutes of touching me, the gloves not as soft as the silky ones of past days, but, for some reason, no less wonderful. The slight roughness added a texture of force, compounding my urgency. Each time she got close to touching my penis I throbbed out a quick, clear jet of fluid which splashed onto my groin and stomach. It was both agonizing and thoroughly arousing to be kept on edge by such perfectly placed touches, by a woman who represented all that was loving and tender and deliciously naughty in the world.

And then the teasing really began.

At first, she stopped touching me everywhere, lightly blowing warm breath on my thighs and balls and cock. It was tortuous and wonderful at the same time. Thin juices bubbled out of my dick and ran down my shaft the whole time, sometimes a quick spurt sent to splash down on my stomach, and once, onto Aunt Carole's wet lips. She grinned and licked it into her mouth, then returned to her lightest of breaths on my genitals.

Her finger was so light I barely felt it at first. Aunt Carole rested just a tip against the opening of my cock. Just holding it there. I throbbed, trying to bring her touch lower and firmer, but she didn't yield, giggling at my mix of pleasure and discomfort. She pulled back her finger, and I swelled trying to regain its touch.

A moment passed and my urgency backed off just a notch. Her finger slid slowly from the base of my dick past the tip and pulled away again. Fluids bubbled urgently from my cock. Another long wait, and a second swipe of her finger, leaving me on the edge again before slowly receding.

Over and over, long minutes passed of such wonderful torture. My body felt wound like a coil, so ready to burst into flame that I was having trouble thinking any single thought, everything, literally everything centered on Aunt Carole's next touch.

A longer wait than the last passed and I grew concerned that Aunt Carole had lost interest. I watched her face, though, and saw just the opposite in her expression. The desire there was intense and focused on my cock. Her lips were pursed, wet, her eyes narrowed and sensuous.

Aunt Carole's gloved hand wrapped around my cock with a light but deliberate firmness. I was on edge but my body understood something my mind couldn't understand: Aunt Carole would let me know when to release.

Her fist pumped so slowly as to drag the skin of my dick along, the friction a perfect mix of delightful and rough. Slowly, so slowly, she moved her gloved fist up and down my length, never grasping, but never loosening her wrapped fingers. My hips started to rise and fall in gentle thrusts through her fist. Her other hand shot up and held me down, refusing my movements as she smiled a wicked smile at me. I was so, so close to letting go.

Right on the edge, so close to falling over, the first whitish cream beginning to bubble out the tip of my dick and my body shuddering into release, Aunt Carole let go of my dick suddenly and watched my face.

I shuddered and clenched, right there, right there, so close. I boiled, cream sliding out of my dick and running down to pool on my groin. I was releasing my seed, but my orgasm held back.

My cream slowed and Aunt Carole once more wrapped her fist around me. I swelled within a half-dozen very gentle, calm strokes, and once more, as my cream started to run out of my cock, she withdrew and watched my face.

I couldn't believe the sensation. I was almost orgasming, almost, but not crashing over the edge. My cream trickled and bubbled out but the full load was still held back, ready to rush out but, I know now, still awaiting permission from Aunt Carole.

Finally, after so long on the edge, I had a hard time feeling her fist wrap around my cock again. My dick buzzed so strongly that the touch was easy to miss. But I surged when I felt her fist pump once, twice, three times. Cream bubbled out faster, faster. My body tensed, I rosed up without a thought, and bucked my hips right at the peak of my tension.

I looked down as blissful pleasure rushed in. Aunt Carole's hand was no longer on my dick. Instead, it was jumping and pulsing on its own, spurting out thick, creamy fluids which sprayed my chest and stomach. Over and over and over it spurted and each time my body washed in sweet pleasure, the sweetest of releases. I must have shot ten or more jets of my cream before it stopped shooting, and even then, more cream kept rushing out in a steady flow as my dick began to soften against my groin.

Aunt Carole laughed with satisfaction and joy. “Oh, my sweet little boy! You came so much!”

I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. My eyes had closed, my body a rag doll, my cream already starting to feel chilled against my skin.

Sometime later, perhaps only seconds, I felt Aunt Carole's hot breath on my stomach just a moment before her tongue began to lap up my cream. She purred, literally purred, like a kitten as she lapped up the juices and swallowed them with a smile. If my cock had not been so thoroughly overwhelmed, I'm sure it would have hardened again seeing Aunt Carole eating my cream.

- - -

To say I needed a nap was an understatement. I didn't even feel guilty for not eating Aunt Carole's pussy in thanks for the pleasure she'd given me. She let me doze in the tea room while she disappeared. Some time later, I recall waking to the smell of baking bread or pastries. I looked down in surprise to see myself wearing a t-shirt and Levi's. Somehow, Aunt Carole had managed to dress me without waking me up.

I stumbled a bit while regaining use of my weakened legs and made my way into the kitchen to find Aunt Carole chatting with Mrs. Webber, the woman who often came to the apartment to prepare meals. No longer in her slip, Aunt Carole once more showed her style, wearing a flowing bronze dress, perhaps conservative compared to some of her other cuts, this one showing modest curves before unevenly tapering off around her calves. Her high heels were sparkling diamonds on black. The crossed fabric on the front of the dress mostly hid Aunt Carole's breasts but I'd seen them enough to easily imagine them beneath. It was almost like having x-ray vision, in a way.

She smiled at me and brought me into a conversation about the local Democratic Party officials caught embezzling and the way their Republican counterparts had their own scandal brewing around voting rights suppression. I had nothing at all to contribute to the conversation. I was no longer terribly surprised that Aunt Carole had a firm and broad understanding of the issues, but I suppose my ignorance made it seem odd that a servant, Mrs. Webber, was equally able to discuss the subjects. I wouldn't forget that moment because it helped me see things differently. It was easy to forget my humble upbringings and lose myself in the lush life my Aunt Carole maintained. I couldn't allow myself to forget that wealth and power do not make one wise, necessarily, that people with wisdom, intelligence, and value could be found anywhere. Maybe deep thoughts for a twelve-year old boy, but, heck, the past few days had been so deep I'd lost sight of the light shining down from the opening above.

Before long, a late lunch of pastries and muffins and fried ham and fresh oranges and apples was served and Mrs. Webber took her leave. “Tonight, we rest again, I think,” Aunt Carole after swallowing a mouthful of buttered almond muffin, “tomorrow, we have an adventure together. What do you think?”

Not liking the idea of 'rest' that night, but too dependent on Aunt Carole's approval to disagree, I asked, “What sort of adventure?”

She bit her lip, smiling, “A trip. Travel, my sweet boy. By train, we'll go.”

“Where?”

“No idea. That's half the fun!” Aunt Carole laughed. “Bathe tonight with me and then pack your case with three days of outfits. I'll bring your tuxedo in my things, just in case. You and I are going to escape the city and find something new out there somewhere, together. Sound good?”

My heart was racing with eagerness when I exclaimed. “Oh, yes!”

- - -

Though we were traveling together on an adventure for the two of us, Aunt Carole had hired a man to manage and see to our luggage as well as our meals while on the train. He brought steaming plates from the dining car as we traveled north out of the city. I'd asked Aunt Carole several times where we might be going, and each time, she responded with “No idea!”

The train passed out of dense buildings and into rolling hills and farmland and smaller communities, stopping only once in the first couple of hours. I slowly realized that if we had tickets on the train, we must be going somewhere specific. When a man finally came around to punch those tickets, I read the text as Aunt Carole handed them to the man along with a couple of official-looking bound documents. The destination on the ticket was typed as Union Station – Ottawa.

“We're going to Canada?”

Aunt Carole laughed. “It seems, my sweet boy, that we are.”

- - -

Ottawa was not our final destination. It was evening by the time we arrived, but Aunt Carole's hired man soon had us a car and drove us north and west, by my reckoning, into the dark night.

Aunt Carole and I sat in the back and I fell asleep at some point, resting my head on her lap. She softly petted my hair and my face, and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

When I woke we were parked somewhere dark. I leaned up to find Aunt Carole and the driver already gone, so I jumped out of the car and looked around.

A soft, orange-yellow light lit a small, wooden building. A cabin, I thought, rough wood planks or logs stacked together, slanted metal roof on top. The porch was as wide as the house, not deep, with rocking chairs and a swinging bench for seating.

There were lights on inside the cabin and I headed that way. The driver nodded to me as he swept by and said, “Enjoy your stay, young Master.”

I went through the door and found Aunt Carole neatly pulling back covers on a plush bed along one wall of the seemingly one-room house. She smiled and told me, “Welcome to our adventure, Scott!”

“This place is really neat!” I said as I looked around at rustic furnishings, rough wooden walls lacking polish, the scent of old forests and rich earth heavy in the room. It was something of an opposite to the manicured arrangements in Aunt Carole's glorious but sterile apartment.

“A real romantic place, I think,” she purred watching me, “just perfect for what you and I feel when we're together, yes?”

I nodded and grinned, “Oh, yes!”

“We bathe and then sleep soon, after such a long travel today. Tomorrow, we find out what the two of us can be up to...”

- - -

What we got up to before dawn was the sensation of Aunt Carole's breasts being rubbed across my back. I remained still a while, dozing, but the soft mounds were being drug gently up and down quite deliberately, seductively. Her arm, draped over me calmly up till then, slid down my side to my groin and she cupped my naked balls in her fingers. Her touch was very soft and I looked down to realize she wore a pink glove, silky and sleek and so lovely on my genitals. I moaned my appreciation as she fondled me, moving slowly up to stroke my cock.

Aunt Carole whispered in my ear, “I want you to cum for me right now... I want nothing else than for my little boy to cum...”

I nearly spurted right then. She stopped her motions suddenly and I groaned a mix of disappointment and pleasure. I heard her laugh lightly, and then her fist made steady rhythm along my shaft, no further teasing just then, her hand moving in a strong shaking motion, more rapid than ever before. I burst into orgasm with a rush of tension and lost breath, cream spurting out of my dick and splashing onto the thick towel which had been surreptitiously placed there by Aunt Carole some time in the night. My seed rushed out in spurts and sputters, some of it leaking down onto Aunt Carole's gloved fingers as she stroked me through my release. I caught my breath slowly, her fist calmed and stilled, and I ran my fingers back to touch her face and stroke her smooth skin, so in love and so satisfied.

- - -

The day was spent hiking nearby, the modest hills and forests surrounding the cabin unoccupied from what I saw. We took a basket full of items with us. Jams and croissants, a bottle of something red, likely wine, and fresh cheeses, items brought to the remote location just before our arrival the night before. Our walk took us past copses and small creeks, through bushes covered in small dark berries and under the fluttering of songbirds. The breeze came and went, just enough to keep the warm day moderate, and hand-in-hand, Aunt Carole and I wandered and lost everything else in the world for a while.

For the first time I'd ever noticed, Aunt Carole wore common clothing. Rugged jeans and a plaid blouse, sturdy boots, no makeup. It was the uniform of a logger, or maybe a miner, a laborer. But, as she always did, Aunt Carole glowed with sensual beauty. Maybe I was just infatuated with her, I don't know, but there was never a prettier woman in the world than Aunt Carole, no matter what clothing covered her lithe body.

"This is unusual for me, Scott," she said brightly at some point in our long walk, "being without the usual extravagance of my life in the city. Theses clothes, our accommodations. I am a bit outside my comfort level, I think, and I must admit, I rather like it right now. Perhaps," she purred, squeezing my hand, "it is the company I keep which determines such things."

She pulled us to a stop near a small stream flowing strongly, up near the top of the banks, which ran beside a small, grass-cushioned clearing no bigger than the cabin in which we were staying. Dropping the basket, Aunt Carole reached for the bag I carried and pulled out a long, wide blanket. I helped her settle it on the grass, and together, we sat down and dragged the basket to us.

The sound of the stream matched the light, free conversation we had about all sorts of things. Her life as a child, and that of my own. She told me twice that I was the most important person in her life. When I asked how that could be, given the powerful and charismatic people she knew all over the world, Aunt Carole just smiled, kissed my jam-coated lips, and told me, “Because you're the one I choose to love most.”

We finished what we wished of the food, and Aunt Carole even let me take several sips of her wine. It made my tummy feel a little warm, but I think I rather enjoyed the sensation of a light buzz. Or, that might have just been the effect of being so close to Aunt Carole.

Setting her empty glass aside, Aunt Carole pushed me onto my back and kissed me a long time, hovering over me, some of her weight pressing down on my body. She was not heavy at all, quite slender and light, but that weight was just lovely anyway.

She pulled free my shirt and soon had my Levi's off, as well. On her command, I opened her shirt and removed it, then helped push off her boots and jeans. Aunt Carole's breasts were soon over my face and I sucked her nipples each in turn as she touched my body all over. She looked down at me suddenly and said, “I want you to eat me, sweet boy...”

Aunt Carole moved her body so that she was squatting down over my face. I stared up in blissful arousal to watch her thighs spread and her pussy opened like a flower, the pink insides pushing closer to my view. She settled near and the aroma of her body grew strong. A musky mix of sweat and arousal and her lovely natural scents. My tongue darted out on its own and soon, Aunt Carole's pussy was taking it inside.

She rode my face slowly at first, nearly smothering me, giving me just enough oxygen to keep licking her. I felt her shudder and her thighs strained. Fingers grasped my hair and Aunt Carole pulled my head up, crushing me against her crotch. I sucked in a struggling breath and focused my attention on that hard nub at the top of her slit, the place where Aunt Carole really liked to be licked.

Her body exploded in a flurry of rapid jerks. She cried out, “Ohhhh... Yes... Oh, sweet boy! Ohhhhh... Uhnnnnn... Uhnnnnn... Mmmmmmmm... mmmm...”

Aunt Carole's sweet and tart juices coated my tongue as she pushed her pussy higher, the opening over my mouth. I sucked gently and swallowed everything in my mouth, swallowing a special, private offering from Aunt Carole's body.

I felt her fingers dancing along my shaft as her cries grew to small purrs, and her movements to little rolls of her hips. My pee-pee had long ago risen and was surely leaking as it liked to do. Aunt Carole stroked me a moment, then she slid down my body and kissed me passionately. She whispered, “I love to tease you, little boy, and today you may well have the very best tease I can offer...”

Aunt Carole slid her legs along so that her knees were beside my hips, my throbbing dick nestled under her slit, the head all I could see below. I felt heat and wetness on my length and I swelled to realized that my cock was touching Aunt Carole's pussy.

“Just relax, Scott. I promise you'll enjoy this.”

I'm not sure why she thought I might have any doubts. I had no clue what actual intercourse might be like, but feeling her slick, bald pussy touching my dick was the best thing ever.

Aunt Carole started to roll her hips back and forth. It caused her slippery folds to coat me with her wetness and I swelled at such an amazing sensation. Her flesh was so soft and slick, even better, maybe, than the gloves. Though, in that moment, it was hard to know for sure. All I could do was enjoy the amazing sensation of Aunt Carole's pussy sliding along my cock.

She quickened her movements, using her hands to stroke my stomach and my face, her eyes locked on mine as she rode me, my cock so close to the very place where babies could be made.

That last thought made me swell and pulse as I remembered how Aunt Carole told me she wanted me to cream inside her there. I started to tense and jerk and Aunt Carole noticed. “Cum for me, Scott... Cum for Aunt Carole...”

I did, and it fired out in long, sticky spurts, splashing against my chest and stomach, and onto Aunt Carole's arms and hands as they danced around my body.

“Yes, sweet boy, yes... Give Aunt Carole all your cream...”

I squeezed out every drop with Aunt Carole's slippery pussy rubbing along the underside of my cock, milking me in a way unlike any I'd known before. She stilled suddenly, then knelt beside me, her tongue cleaning up the random thick pools of cream on my body.

We kissed and cuddled until Aunt Carole said that we needed to get back. We had a long walk and though I really would rather have just slept the night in that place, I helped gather our things and we soon returned, again hand-in-hand, to the cabin a couple of hours before nightfall.

Instead of a full meal, Aunt Carole and I stripped down to our small clothes and cuddled together in front the fireplace. It was much too warm to start a fire, but Aunt Carole had placed a couple of small candles on the hearth to give off a beautiful flickering light which made our cozy situation feel very romantic. We ate boxed chocolates and candies. Aunt Carole drank wine and gave me another sip or two while I drank a bottle of cola.

We didn't either one make it into the small clawfoot tub in the corner for a bath. I could smell our sweaty bodies in the warm air, but that scent just reminded me how much I'd enjoyed that day with Aunt Carole. And we didn't make our way to the soft bed until spending a couple of hours dozing on the low, wood-framed couch. Once in bed, I was out quickly once more, Aunt Carole's body wrapped around mine.

- - -

Morning started early for me, still in darkness. I heard something pinging steadily on the roof and realized it was raining, the metallic tinkling quickly rising into a loud, pattering drone. I rested on my side a long time, just listening. Aunt Carole's breathing was even and light, her breath hot against my neck. I felt so loved, so in love, and even as my bladder strained, I held still in her arms, enjoying the way her warmth had made my back began to sweat just a little from it's intensity.

I dozed a while but then it was clear that I needed to move myself to the toilet. Carefully, I extracted my body from Aunt Carole's embrace and went about my business in the small wash closet, the tiny room clearly a later addition to the cabin. After cleaning up and wiping away a bit of drool which had trickled down the edge of my lip and dried on my skin, I returned to the one main room.

Aunt Carole slept soundly, as far as I could tell. The candles on the hearth had gone out in the night, so I relit them and added a couple of others. The rain hammered down as I stood watching Aunt Carole sleep. She looked so peaceful and lovely, the covers pulled to her shoulders, on her side, just a hint of her slender curves showing in the heavy blanket on top. Her chest rose and fell in long draws, and I felt a strong urge to be with her again.

I gently slid into the bed and under the covers behind Aunt Carole. This was a bit new for us. Always before, when we cuddled on the bed, she held me. I was smaller and, besides, I knew she was enjoying babying me a bit. I rather enjoyed it myself. But I felt so much more confident and assured than ever before. I suppose I was starting to feel a bit like a man, of sorts. Whatever led to that moment, I'm thankful. So, so thankful.

Her buttocks were slender but still held lovely curves which settled against my groin just perfectly. Even better, her naked flesh was right there, right there in a perfect position for my dick to press against it. I had no thoughts of penetrating Aunt Carole in that moment, the concept still a little fuzzy for me, so I wrapped my arm over her and caressed her lovely warm breasts while my dick throbbed against her butt.

She didn't stir a while, sometimes sighing lightly, and I loved being able to touch her so freely in that way. I stroked her face gently, her nipples, and even understood enough to let my hand drift lower down between her slightly-parted thighs. Her smooth skin there was lightly-damp and slippery. My erection swelled when I swept a finger across the delicious red lips just below and found them wet.

Aunt Carole turned her head slowly, smiling a sleepy smile, "Mmm... my sweet boy... What a way to greet the morning..."

Thunder boomed once, then again, making me jump a bit. Aunt Carole instinctively turned over and wrapped me in her arms to comfort my nerves. Maybe I wasn't such a man just yet. Or, I realized, maybe being a man wasn't about who was holding who. No, the love between us, the access to her most private flesh, those made me a man. I loved being cradled against Aunt Carole's body, whatever it meant.

We kissed and touched each other a while, no rush, only gentle and teased touches on my body, more urgent ones on hers. Aunt Carole sure loved to tease me along, even when I really wished she would have touched my hard pee-pee right then.

Something else was in my immediate future, and it blew away all the other moments before it.

Aunt Carole stroked my hair, then leaned her lips against my ear, whispering, "You're ready, sweet boy. I want you to put it inside me..."

I was surely nervous, but after the previous days of experience with Aunt Carole, I was able to enjoy understanding what she meant. It was almost as if in a dream. A soft glow in the room, flickering candles, rain tinkling loudly, wind rippling the metal roof. Aunt Carole rolled onto her back and threw off the covers. Her body spread willingly, her arms guiding me into place between her legs, her thighs opening wider. I could see wetness on her pussy and it made me throb a jet of clear fluids onto her stomach.

Aunt Carole's face was soft and loving, lips slightly pursed. No makeup, no accessories. This was truly as naked as Aunt Carole ever got, and I was the one she loved and trusted enough to see her so.

My dick slid along her opening a moment while she took my length in one hand. Her other slid behind me and cupped my butt, pulling me against her slowly.

Warm, wet silkiness enveloped my cock. It was everything and more than could have been imagined. Aunt Carole's pussy yielded but still grasped my dick as it went deeper. My breath caught as I watched Aunt Carole watching me. I saw the love and joy there, and I was certain those were mirrored in what she saw. My groin came to rest against her and I looked down to see that, yes, truly, my dick was fully inside Aunt Carole's pussy.

She purred and smiled so sensually, "Oh, Scott... oh, sweet boy... Oh, yes... Hold there... Oh, sweet boy, just let me feel you inside me..."

The grasp around my pee-pee clenched and relaxed, again, again, twitching, each time it did so, Aunt Carole sighed and moaned tenderly. Her hands began to move on my body, pulling me down again, this time, raising her neck and meeting my lips with hers. I felt her thighs trembling as we held together, kissing passionately.

I was so turned on, so overwhelmed, I doubt I could have cum in that moment. I was a bundle of buzzing energy, a little confusion, ecstatic pulses rushing in each time Aunt Carole's body jerked or twitched or rolled lightly under me.

Aunt Carole broke our kiss and breathed, "Thrust, Scott... thrust in and out of me... Like this..."

Her hands held my hips as she showed me the rhythm she wanted. The silky sensations sliding along my cock made it impossible to focus on anything else, but I tried to match her movements, and I didn't even notice for a long minute or two after she'd pulled away her guiding hands. I opened my eyes for the first time in what felt like hours to realize I was really doing it. Really having intercourse, real intercourse, with Aunt Carole!

That realization triggered my body and I began to swell. Aunt Carole's eyes were slits, her hips moving quickly under me suddenly. She bucked and moaned and her pussy was pushed up higher with each of my thrusts. She cried out, "Oh... Oh, Scott! Oh, sweet boy! I'm there! I'm there! Uhhnnnnnnnnnnnn... Uhnnnnn... Uhn-uhn-uhn.... Ohhhhhh, Scoooooott..."

My body exploded in motion and tension and pure, visceral pleasure. I wasn't even really aware of the mechanics of that moment, the thick jets of cream spurting inside Aunt Carole's pussy, the jerking motion of my hips, the way I fought for breath, how my hands came to rest cradling Aunt Carole's head as we orgasmed in unison. I emptied myself into Aunt Carole's body from a distance, floating on urgent, fluffy clouds, no thought in my head but my love for the woman taking my cream inside her.

I don't even remember collapsing against her, though I vaguely recall that my dick stayed rather hard and inside Aunt Carole for a long time and even after lovely kisses and touches and cuddling with me on top of her, she kept me inside her pussy. It caused her to draw me up again and she used her hands to encourage me to return to thrusting in and out of her.

My cream squished out of her bald pussy, frothing, the wet sounds of our mating loud enough to be heard above the pounding rain on the metal roof. Aunt Carole pulled me off of her and pushed me onto my back on the bed. In a smooth motion, she stepped over me, spread her legs, then settled her body down so that my cock was nestled along her slit, as it had been beside the stream the day before.

This time, though, Aunt Carole was not going to tease me. No, she held my dick in one hand, pointing it straight up towards her wet opening, and she sat down, taking me fully into her body as I gasped and strained.

Aunt Carole rode me slowly, holding me down tightly with her thighs and buttocks, rising just enough to give me a sensation of movement. She guided my hands to her tits and I fondled them, sometimes pinching her nipples when she told me to do so.

Her urgency rose quickly, her hand down near our mating, rapidly stroking the hard flesh at the top of her slit. Her movements grew longer and faster, almost letting me fall out before sliding back down. I felt her slender buttocks bouncing so wonderfully off my thighs.

I swelled when Aunt Carole's orgasm hit her and her body jerked and writhed, her moans loud and unashamed. Filling her the second time was somewhat different than my first, though just as thrilling and pleasurable. I experienced my release more consciously. I felt my cream spurting into Aunt Carole, my hands on her breasts, her hips holding down against me while I orgasmed. If my second load was smaller, it didn't feel that way. It felt like I came for long minutes, though surely it was much quicker.

Aunt Carole's pussy milked me, squeezing the last drops of my cream into her body. She crashed down over me and kissed my lips with passion and need. My cock slipped out of her, softening, my cream splashing down on my groin in random dollops.

"I love you so much, my sweet boy."

"I love you, Aunt Carole!" I said as honestly as any boy ever said anything.

She purred and sighed, holding me below her a moment before she slid to one side and I instinctively turned onto my side so that she could hold me against her once more. Soft touches, kisses along my neck and shoulders, and her gentle, loving words whispered in my ear. I soaked in her love and attention, and, I know, she was soaking in mine.

"There's a school in the city," she said quietly to jerk me from a light doze.

"Huh?"

"A school. For bright boys like you. I think, perhaps, you might wish to attend it, yes?"

I didn't understand her point. "Why?"

"Because, sweet boy, it would mean you would need to live closer to me... perhaps... even with me."

"Really?! Yes, of course!" There was no possibility in the world more desirable than what she suggested.

"Your parents would have to agree, of course, but... I've had your mother's ear for some time and I think she'll listen." Her hand came to my face and I was quite surprised to find that she had put on a soft glove without me noticing. This one was tender, a light cream color, and so silky on my cheek. She stroked my skin a moment and it made my dick start to rise. Aunt Carole kissed my neck, then, her fingers starting to move along my lips, she said, "Is this what you desire, Scott? To live with me? To be with me as you are now?"

"Yes! More than anything!" I replied with no doubt in my mind. "Please!"

I heard her laugh lightly, "Then we will see it happen. This is my wish, too, sweet boy. Always, I have desired this for us. And now, perhaps, we will see our dreams fulfilled."

I nodded and grinned and felt so full of hope and excitement that I spurted a thin, small drop of clear liquid onto the mattress under the covers.

As if she knew just such a thing had happened, I felt Aunt Carole's gloved hand move down my body and in seconds, her silk fingers were once again wrapping around my cock and slowly stroking it, with me being fully aware that I was the happiest, luckiest boy who ever lived.