Chapter 4
More Instructions
Aunt Nicole stood with her back to me, head bowed slightly, relaxed and waiting, the water streaming off her tanned buttocks. I started in a safe place, across her shoulders and worked my way gently down her back. When I moved to her sides, she raised her arms above her head, and I coaxed the soapy water down her arms and sides, ending up by brushing my fingertips across the tail of her breasts. She made no comment other than an occasional soft moan, and I knew I was doing it right.
I dropped to one knee, and began washing her hips, gradually moving to her lovely jutting behind. When she pushed back against my hand, I took it as a signal to press forward and did, running my soapy fingers through the crack of her behind, briefly touching her wrinkled anus.
"Oh, yes," she murmured, "Get all of me, I like a through man."
I repeated the process and felt her shudder twice, as my fingers lingered in the crack of her ass.
"The front," she said, "Get the front, too."
Her stomach was flat, and her pubic hair hid her labia. Her breasts were tanned, medium heavy, and an up tilt curve led the way to a pair of rosy hewed areola, and cherry colored nipples. I washed and rewashed this area, wanting to spend as much time on her breasts as possible.
But for some reason, perhaps my tender age, I felt that I had better get on with things. I would learn over the next few days that there was no necessity in rushing things as I was prone to do. Females, Aunt Nicole and Krista Marie informed me, preferred, or I should say preferred a man to linger here and there before moving on. I have, therefore taken my sweet time ever since.
The rewards from doing so have been unbelievable.
And so, in my youthful haste, I worked my way to the inside of Aunt Nicole's thighs. At the first touch, she shifted one leg out, opening herself at the juncture of her thighs and, in the process, opening up her now visible pussy lips just a little. I sat back on my haunches and looked at her for a moment, watching the water stream off her pussy.
"Like the view?" she asked, with a giggle. I later learned that heretofore Aunt Nicole had been reticent in such sexual matters, but my youthfulness and the fact that she had been without sex for a time prior to my arrival on the scene caused her to lose any amount of shyness, and pushed her over from a passive sexual partner to one with a more aggressive leaning.
I smiled, nodded, and then said, "It looks like you're peeing."
She didn't close her legs or look away in embarrassment. Rather, she smiled and said, "I often DO when I'm in the shower."
"I've never seen a girl ... I mean a woman, pee."
Again, that sweet smile as she shook her head. "Well, I'd like to help you out there, but I can't. I went just before stepping into the shower. You don't recall coming in with me, do you?"
"Um, yeah, I guess," I said, and tried to sound as forlorn as I could.
Aunt Nicole laughed at me. "Another time, perhaps," she said.
And so it was that after finishing our communal shower and getting dressed, Aunt Nicole sat me down, and began to tutor me in the art of seduction.
"Boy's," she began, in an off-handed way, "have a tendency to be almost entirely oblivious of girls until puberty, and then they become obsessed with the female gender. I think you'll agree that as the male enters puberty, they have almost constant erections.
I must tell you that Krista Marie and I attended a swimming meet at the local swimming pool last summer. The boys, who were roughly 13 to 15 years old, had erections from the first time we set eyes on them until they were leaving the meet, and probably beyond that time frame. It wasn't the girls in the area, for there were none. I seriously doubt it was any of the older women attending; for they were mothers all, save Krista Marie and me."
I interrupted her to say, "It could have been the mothers."
"Really, do you think the boys all shared incestuous thoughts?"
"No, not at all; only one woman represented their mother. The other mothers were seen as women. I mean, you could be looking at their breasts, or legs, or ... you know what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes," she said. "I believe I do, and I stand corrected.
"And," I continued, "I find myself getting hard at anything female. A girl's throat, or ankle, or hair; I mean, it doesn't have to be her sexy parts."
"I see," Aunt Nicole responded thoughtfully. "You know, I never thought of it that way. Now you're teaching me. Perhaps I should confine myself to teaching you about what I know, and that would be feminine traits."
"I'm all ears," I said.
She swatted me with a towel, and pointing to my erection, said, "That's not an ear, my dear."
And we both laughed until it hurt.
"Okay, about girls, or young women. Some endearing little traits come naturally, but others are definitely acquired. Like a pre-teen schoolgirl practices putting on her eye shadow and lip gloss and blush in front of her vanity mirror. They also practice their laugh and hand movements, so they look and sound casual, yet lilting. They sit at their dressing table and practice looking up from under lowered lashes, or giving just the right delicate shake of the head to make that errant lock of hair fall 'casually' over their left eye.
"After all, what better way to get "Him" to feel her perfect skin, or to gaze deeply into her perfect eyes, or lean close enough to smell the delicate scent of her expensive shower gel, or after bath talc, than to give him a reason to brush that lock of hair back behind her ear?
"Men seem to love the hair thing. Somewhere they've been told it makes them seem more 'romantic,' and they're convinced that we women will get weak-kneed and unable to resist their frighteningly transparent efforts to end up between our legs.
But no one tells us that we're supposed to practice, to teach ourselves how to be charming and sweet and sexy and sultry and innocent all at the Aunt Nicole time. Most of us go through our pubescent years desperately yearning for a clue; desperately longing—as only teenage girls can desperately yearn—for the answer. Searching for the thing that will make the boys look at us like they do at the head cheerleader, and all-around favorite girl."
"Wow!" I said, trying to retain all that I was hearing.
"Then, if we're lucky," Aunt Nicole went on to say, "somewhere at the end of our absolutely miserable teen years, the penny drops and the girls finally get it. The head cheerleader wasn't born like that. She doesn't roll out of bed looking like God's gift to wet dreams.
So they sit at their mirrors and take stock of their good points. They experiment with honey-blonde rinses and Cover Girl blusher, and they stop eating their mom's mashed potatoes, and they start practicing. They wink and giggle and flip their bangs back until they, too, know that the boys will be slavering and sniggling, and although they protest, and stomp their pretty feet, inside they're thrilled to find out that their name is included in the "for a good time" graffiti in the boys locker room."
Aunt Nicole went on and on about women and how they set out to entrap their men. She also told me that if men did certain things during this period of enticement, then they would become the hunter instead of the hunted. I paid the greatest attention to this segment, and later reaped the greatest rewards from it.
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Krista Marie and Aunt Nicole set aside the following afternoon for my instruction on properly making love to a woman.
We had a light lunch first and then retired to the bedroom. Krista Marie removed her clothing, and lay nude on the bed. I took off my own clothing and joined her.
"Handsome, why don't you position yourself between Krista's legs?" my aunt suggested. I did as I was told.
"This is called cunnilingus. You're familiar with it, having done it with me several times already. This time you'll have the benefit of two women telling you what you're doing right, or what's going wrong and how to correct it."
"Shall I start?"
"Please do," my aunt said, and a lewdly smiling Krista Marie parted her legs, allowing me access to her treasure box. I began by paying homage to Krista's cunt, licking it up and down in long, slow swipes of my tongue.
"He's good at this, Nicole," Krista Marie said, without a care in the world.
"Don't forget the little man, Handsome," Aunt Nicole said, reminding me. The "man" she referred to, being "the little man in the boat," or clitoris.
With the first contact of my tongue on Krista Marie's clit, I forced a loud moan from her, and she had to grab the sheets tightly with both hands to stay on the bed.
"Why not raise her legs up? It presents a much better target," Aunt Nicole suggested. In no time at all, I had hoisted Krista Marie's legs up and onto my shoulders, presenting a much better angle from which to lick and suck upon her cunt.
Krista Marie was moaning almost non-stop at this juncture, and gushing a whitish fluid which I found to be quite tasty, more on the sweeter side than sour, but to be perfectly frank, it was a little of both.
