Mom Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind

Author's Note:

Please take note of this story's

category and tags

, in case the subject matter might not be to your liking. Also, please start with

Part 1

of the series otherwise, some of this won't make much sense.

This is a work of fiction. The plot is fictional. The characters are fictional. In other words, it's

not real life

. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental. All fictional characters in this fictional story involved in fictional sexual activities are 18+ in their completely fictional lives. If you think you recognize a real-life someone in this story, you lead a more colorful life than the author. :-)

Lastly, and most importantly, I hope you enjoy the story!

-BizMe

# # # # #

Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind: Part 9

# # # # #

To say my life had been turned upside down would be an understatement. To say no part of me was enjoying it would be a lie.

Was the 'alternate therapy' prescribed by my psychotherapist Aunt working? Sure. I was accumulating fewer corrections each day for those things they deemed core to my issues (my absentmindedness, lack of self-confidence, my penchant for daydreaming, and my struggle to concentrate). And fewer corrections meant I was, overall, doing better at staying engaged and not flitting off somewhere in my mind.

Did I still cringe every time I heard one of my female 'caregivers' count off a number because I'd thoughtlessly said 'um' or 'sorry' or made them repeat something? Yep. I cringed every time.

Or when I second-guessed one of their directives? Given what had happened at old lady Perkins' place, I think I had good reason to question their orders, sometimes. But, yes, I cringed then, too, because, typically, the formula for my therapy was one correction = one spanking.

Did I like being monitored twenty-four seven by my female caregivers, preventing any chance of jacking off whenever I wanted to? Of course not!

Prior to my therapy, I used to get myself off at will, sometimes three or four times a day, but

never

less than twice. Now, I was lucky if I was allowed to ejaculate every other day (though my orgasms did feel more epic from the periods of withdrawal if I'm honest).

But did I secretly enjoy being naked in their presence? Being ordered to lie down on their laps, made to lay still while they spanked my bottom and groped my body? Well, I didn't like the spanks, of course, but everything else? I couldn't admit it out loud, but I did.

I felt free when I was naked in the house. I delighted in being naked in their presence and even their prurient, brazen stares when my penis stirred and wakened from its slumber. And after a spanking, their gropings almost always led to some twisted masturbation session during which I not only got off but more often than not, so did they.

And didn't I now secretly crave those times when one of the women demanded what was due to her as a caregiver--that I service her needs, however she deemed fit? I often found myself dreaming of it, so, yes, I did crave those times.

I was becoming quite good, if I say so myself, at teasing a woman's arousal with my tongue and for reasons I don't understand, they especially enjoyed making me eat my own cum when it was over--to 'clean up my mess' as they put it.

So, what was it that was bothering me? I laid in my bed, just a few days after my run-in with old lady Perkins, when she nearly made me cum on her porch, while her oblivious friends in the Old Ladies Bridge Club inspected the new underwear Miss Swenson had bought me.

That!

I knew in my gut.

That's what's bothering me. Oh, Gawd, that woman scares me.

I pulled out my phone and texted Nadia.

ME: I miss you

NADIA: Something wrong?

Nadia responded just a few seconds later.

ME: Why would you ask that?

I texted, wondering if she could read my mind even when we weren't in the same room or even building.

NADIA: Because you usually just say Hey. You never say you miss me.

ME: Oh. your pretty smart you know that? And I do miss you. All the time

NADIA: It's YOU'RE not YOUR and yes, I already knew I was smart :-p So what's wrong?

she asked, cutting right to the chase.

I fumbled with my phone, struggling to answer her question. How could I say I was scared of an old lady?

ME: I was hoping you could tell me

A clever response if nothing else.

NADIA: Want to come over and talk about it? Mom's at work 'til noon and I don't have to go to work 'til two.

I didn't bother answering, figuring I could be halfway there by the time I finished replying. I scurried from my room, bounded down the stairs two steps at a time, and was about to bolt out the front for when I realized something kind of important--I was still stark naked.

I bounced back up the stairs, slipped on a pair of running shorts, and snagged a t-shirt from my dresser before leaping back down the stairs yet again.

"Just where are you going in such a hurry?" Mom blared from the kitchen as I skipped the bottom three steps and stomped explosively onto the landing.

"Nadia's!" I shouted as I flew out the front door.

"Love you, too!" she yelled sarcastically as I landed two feet on the front porch.

Dammit!

I chastised myself in frustration, turning back into my house, yet again.

"Sorry, Mom," I apologized, slowing myself down long enough to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"You know, I don't like you forgetting to give me a kiss when you come and go," she said with a sadness in her voice that cut me to the quick.

"I know, Mom. I'm sor-," I caught myself.

"It's already too late, Andy. Go ahead and say it...

again

," Mom smiled sympathetically.

I shrugged in shame. "Sorry, Mom."

"And that's one," she said pointedly. "I'll make sure you remember this one, tonight. The last thing I want once you're done with your therapy is for you to forget about me." I searched her expression, hoping to see her being playful, but she was nothing but serious.

"Mom, how could you say that? I could never forget you," I said sincerely.

"Not so much forget me, Andy, as much as leave me behind," she clarified. "I see nothing but great things for you someday, son." She tenderly caressed my cheek. "I just hope I don't wake up someday and find you all grown up and successful, a family of your own, but I got lost in all the shuffle." She was nearly in tears.

"Mom," I leaned in for a hug, wrapping her in a warm embrace. "I don't want that to happen either. I swear I don't. I love you more than ever and you'll always be my mom, okay?"

She nodded her head into my chest. "And you'll always be naked in my house?" she only half-teased, patting my shorts-covered bottom with her hand. "Because these shorts make you feel so far away now since I've gotten used to touching you."

"Sure, Mom," I chuckled as I pulled back. "Always naked for you," I smiled and gave her another kiss, this time square on the lips.

"Ooh," she cooed delightfully in surprise, "and kisses like that instead of on the cheek?"

"Are we negotiating now?" I laughed. "Sure, Mom. Now can I go? Nadia's waiting for me."

She snaked her hand into my shorts and caressed my bottom. "Sure, you run along. But later I'm going to need your help with something"

My penis started to energize as I realized what she was asking. "Some caregiver stuff?" I asked and she quickly nodded. "Sure, Mom. Okay," I said. "Now? Can I go?"

She pulled her hand out of my shorts and smacked my bottom. "Go on, Andy. And thank you."

I rushed out the door, letting the screen door slam behind me.

"That was quick!" Nadia laughed when I knocked on her door.

"Would've been faster if I hadn't forgotten clothes and stuff," I joked.

"Oh, my. That could've been bad," she snickered. "Or

good

, depending on your perspective. Especially, sporting a woody like that." She pointed to my crotch and I blushed to realize it was all Mom's doing. "You coming in, you

almost

exhibitionist, or do you prefer the front porch now?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering if she'd heard about what happened at old lady Perkins' place.

"So? What's wrong?" she asked, wasting no more time with chit-chat.

"Oh, well... old lady Perkins, that's what," I said flatly before even sitting down

"Miss Perkins?"

"Oh, Nadia. I don't trust her. She's not what she seems."

"She's not, huh?" she smirked. "She's not an old lady who lives next to you and walks her dog on a timer and hosts her 'bridge club' once a week?"

"Well, she's all that, I guess. But she's something else, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. She's just, like,

sinister

or something," I said, unsure if that was the right word to use or not.

"Hahaha," Nadia laughed, "Sinister, Andy?

Please

. Old lady Perkins? What, so she's like a criminal mastermind? I highly doubt it."

"I can't explain it, Nadia, but please don't laugh at me," I pleaded. "She has me really freaked out. Did you hear what she did to me the other day?"

"Yeah, I admit that was pretty ballsy, groping you like that on her porch," she agreed. "Though I kinda wish I was there to see it," she confessed, slipping her tongue between her lips as her cheeks started to blush. "You know, if you had been standing next to me naked on my front porch, I would've done the same thing."

"Don't kid, Nadia, please?" I nearly begged.

"Who's kidding?" she replied curtly. "I'm dead serious! And since I'm your girlfriend, I might've gone ahead and showed you off, since

I'm allowed

."

"What?!

Allowed

? Um... well...

whatever

... Did your mom tell you what Perkins did at my house, afterward? How she somehow finagled herself into my therapy for the night? How she..." I caught myself and stopped talking mid-sentence, unsure if anyone had told her much about the details of my 'therapy' yet.

"How she

spanked

you?" Nadia seemed to enjoy finishing my sentence for me. "And then

jerked you off

? And even made you

cum

on her blouse while talking

dirty

? Oh, Gawd, Andy. I

really

wish I was there for

that

!"

"Okay, okay," I blushed as red as a beet upon hearing Nadia say all those things out loud. "So, you know about my therapy stuff, then, huh?"

"Yep. Sure do. Mom and your Aunt Clara told me all about it, including what happened last night. It's all pretty crazy if you ask me, but then, I'm not a professional psychotherapist like your aunt."

"Um, so how much did they tell you... exactly?" I asked out loud, wondering if she'd been told about the

caregivers' rights and responsibilities

and the 'benefits' afforded them.

"Pretty sure they told me everything, Andy. For instance, if

I

was one of your caregivers, I'd be obligated to give you a correction just now for saying 'um.'"

"Oh, sorry, about that, by the way."

"And

that

would've been another," she quickly tacked on.

"Yeah, okay. So, they told you about the corrections," I considered whether to ask what else she'd been told in the hopes that maybe they spared some of the details that worried me the most.

"Also, if

I

was one of your caregivers, there's no way you'd be going multiple days without me making you

cum

."

"

Shit

," I grumbled, expecting if they'd told her about that, they probably told her everything else, too.

"Oh my God, Andy. I can't believe I just said something so

insane

like that, but I love it."

"You do?" I asked in surprise. "You're not... I don't know...

mad

?"

"Mad? Not at all! The thought of my boyfriend, not allowed to masturbate unless I permit him? And then being allowed to watch! Or better yet,

participate

?! Like

every time

?!" She started bouncing in place as if she'd just downed three double-shots of espresso.

"But... it wouldn't be just you," I said tentatively. "You're... okay with that?"

As much as it embarrassed me to know Nadia knew about it, I couldn't help feeling a stirring in my loins as her sudden full body tremors made her breasts jiggle beneath her running singlet, making it obscenely apparent that she wasn't wearing a bra.

I tried to look away but was so drawn to the sight of her nipples poking against her tank top that I temporarily lost the ability to blink.

"Oh,

Gawd

, Andy!" she wiggled some more, sending her perky tits bouncing wildly. "It's just my mom and your mom and your aunt!" she said almost dismissively. "And I guarantee you

I'd

be cashing in my caregiver benefits every fucking

day

!"

Oh, fuck me

," I grumbled silently in my mind.

She knows. She knows everything

!

"Too bad they won't let me be a caregiver, though," she lamented. "Your Aunt Clara said I'm a trump card and she's saving me for something--whatever that means."

"Saving you?" I wondered out loud.

"Yeah. Weird, huh?" she asked thoughtfully.

"I... I think I might know what," I ventured reluctantly.

"And?" she prodded. "You can't say that and then not tell me," she argued. "It's against the rules of, like, all common decency."

"Well... they said before... they were going to teach me to be a proper gentleman," I started but then reconsidered saying the rest.

"

And, and

? I can tell there's more, Andy. Don't do this to me. Out with it!" she urged.

"A gentleman," I repeated, "and... an unselfish lover," I finally set the words free where they hung in the air several seconds before Nadia seemed to digest them.

"Are you saying..." she didn't finish her thought.

"I think... I think they want to make sure I'll be...

good

for you," I gulped nervously after saying it. "Like... in bed."

"So... you'll be my first, but... you won't be

mine

?" she asked sadly.

"I... I don't know, Nadia. Honest, they didn't actually say it like that," I backtracked a little, trying to give her some hope still.

"Well..." she quietly considered the notion. "I suppose that makes me feel a little better, then... about how they make you... you know..."

"Make them cum?" It was my turn to flip the table and make her blush.

"Stop it, Andy!" she laughed, throwing pillows from her couch at me. "You're making me jealous!"

"Believe me, Nadia" I ventured, "I don't want you to be jealous."

She looked at me curiously as if bidding me say more.

"And I do want to be good for you. Like...

so

good that you'll never want anyone else."

"I already don't want anyone else, Andy," she said sweetly.

"Me neither, Nadia. But I want you to be happy and I want to be... enough," I said sincerely, baring one of my deepest insecurities to her.

"You know what?" she suddenly said decisively. "I'm going to talk to them. I'm going to

demand

to be your first. And if your Aunt Clara says no, then I'm going to buy some condoms and take your virginity anyway. How's that?" she asked defiantly, her chin sticking out firm and her eyes narrowed in sheer determination.

"Hey!" I threw my hands up in the international sign of surrender. "I'm on your side, Nadia. Don't shoot daggers at

me

!"

Immediately, she smiled. "Good, I'm glad that's settled."

I blushed with a delayed reaction at the realization that she'd just vowed to take my virginity and, in the process, offer me hers. Again, my dick started tingling in my shorts--first from my mom and now from my girlfriend.

"Andy?" she almost whispered, leaning forward from her position on the couch, teasing me with a down-blouse view of her cleavage.

"Yeah?" I croaked, my throat turning suddenly dry as the Sahara.

"Just because I'm not a caregiver doesn't mean you can't..." she leaned forward even more and I mirrored her movements until we were mere inches apart, "...do caregiver things?"

"Nadia?" I asked, staring as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it tenderly between her teeth before releasing it. "Um... when did you say your mom would be home?"

"That would've been two, by the way. And she works 'til noon. We've got at least an hour to..." her voice trailed off as she closed the gap between us, planting a smoldering kiss on my lips that left me feeling weak in the knees and thankful I was already sitting down.

I closed my eyes and savored the taste of her lips, the feel of her velvety tongue as she slipped it into my mouth and teased the most sensitive parts of my lips.

Immediately, my shorts started tenting, my eager penis lengthening and straining against its meager confines.

She reached her left hand to my face and caressed my cheek, opening her eyes right after I'd opened mine.

She smiled.

I saw her smile and raised her one dopey expression.

She slipped her hand from my cheek to my neck and pulled me close again, resuming our passionate kiss as she rested her right hand against my chest and started tracing a downward path with her fingers.

Our lips danced haphazardly, neither of us with much experience or skill but neither of us much caring, either. We turned our heads in the same direction more than once and fumbled with our tongues as if we were only then learning how to use them. But soon, we found a rhythm all our own, a harmony and intuition that fit us and it was magic.

Suddenly, it was as if we'd been eternal soulmates, dancing in synchronicity since the beginning of time. Every motion seemed choreographed. Every movement, right. Every touch, perfection.

Her hand slipped lower until it was resting on my hip, tracing back and forth across the crease at the top of my thigh, tempting dangerously closer to my manhood which was yearning for her touch.

In turn, I moved my hands to her waist, pulling her closer so I could reach behind her and rub her back with both hands, freely feeling her up from the tops of her shoulders to that place where her bottom started to swell.

"Oh, Nadia," I groaned achingly. "Tell me what you want... please... I'll do anything for you... anything at all."

Our kisses resumed as she seemed to struggle to answer for the heat building between us.

"Andy... oh, Andy," she yearned with a whimper, "Do to me everything you've done to your caregivers."

At once, a sense of both dread and thrill of unbridled lust surged through my veins. I remembered at that moment that she knew that I'd done things--sensual things--with my caregivers. She knew who they were--her mom, my stepmom, my aunt. But did she truly know

what

I'd done? The intimate acts I'd always wanted to be just for her? But, by then, I'd already done with three women?

Does she know what she's asking?

I wrestled with my thoughts.

Will she be disgusted if I do something she wasn't expecting or didn't realize I'd done already? With her mom? Or mine? Or my aunt?

"Dammit, Andy," she mewled, her lips now kissing my neck, her hand groping my turgid erection through my shorts and goading my hard-on to the heights of arousal. "Do I have to say it?" she implored.

"Are you sure?" I finally eked out through the mire of my mind.

"Mmm," she moaned. "Yes, I'm sure... Go down on me... please?" At once, she spread her legs inviting me to not only look but freely grope her inner thighs.

She scooted herself to the edge of the couch and leaned back into a reclined position as I lowered myself between her legs, immediately planting kisses on her knee, her inner leg, the last bit of skin before her running shorts got in the way.

"Mmm, that's so nice," she muttered, closing her legs together and lifting her hips.

Instinctively, I reached for the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down to her knees. She lowered herself so she could lift her feet and I removed her shorts from her body, tossing them to behind me and marveling at her panty-covered pussy.