The rain had slowed to a light drip outside Aunt Daisy's living room. The TV glowed soft, throwing shadows over us as we sat on her gray couch. A bowl of popcorn sat half-eaten, ignored, and Daisy was on her third glass of wine, her face pink, her laughs too loud at the rom-com's silly lines. I still had on the yellow sundress she'd talked me into, the red lace thong and bra sticking to me, a secret buzz I hid by slumping back with a soda can. The room smelled like butter and her lavender candle, keeping us cozy.
"You're a hoot in that dress, Roolk," Daisy said, laughing as she pulled her legs up. "You've got Skye's whole thing--her attitude, her grins. It's like she's here."
I grinned, leaning back, the wig's curls tickling my neck. "Guess I'm good at it. Must've got Mom's charm." And her taste in lace, I thought, the thong's light hold firing me up inside.
We talked over the movie--she mumbled about wanting a salon, I dodged girlfriend talk with quick jokes about school. "You're too cute to be single," she teased, poking me with her foot. I laughed, but inside I was buzzing--cute, huh? Wait till you see what's under here.
When the movie ended, she stretched, yawning. "Another one? I'm not done yet." Her green flowery dress slid up her leg, and I snuck a peek before looking back at the screen. "Sure," I said, grabbing the remote. "You pick."
She went for a goofy horror movie, and soon we were cracking up at the fake blood, her wine-loose self scooting closer till her head landed on my shoulder. "You're comfy," she mumbled, her breath sharp with wine. I let her stay, her heat coming through the thin dress. Just hanging out, I told myself. No big deal.
Then it hit--my dick moved, getting hard against the lace, bumping her hip as she shifted. She tensed, and my heart raced. She knows. But she didn't budge, didn't say a word, just breathed quicker. Maybe the wine, or something else, kept her there. I tried it out, moving my hips a little, rubbing against her butt. She let out a soft breath, and I went further, my hand sliding up her side, then grabbing her chest through her dress. A quiet "Roolk..." came out, sloppy and unsure. I stopped, but she didn't move away, and that was my sign.
"I shouldn't," she whispered, voice shaky as I squeezed her chest, thumb rubbing her nipple. "You're... my nephew." It was a weak fight, lost in the heat growing between us. I pressed more, my hard-on strong against her, and her body gave in, the doubt turning into a shake.