It was the day of my sister's wedding, and my aunt was giving me trouble.
She looked up at me with her purplish eyes, batting her beautiful eyelashes with a striking effect. The summer dress left most of her arms bare, and the rest of it, with a floral pattern, was very elegant. With her thick brown hair in curls, with her wide straw hat, she could have walked into one of the Queen of Britain's garden parties.
But she was dead now, wasn't she?
The dreams we have of a beautiful aristocrat seducing and using us until we are nothing but an empty shell would not have seemed out of place with my aunt as the main character.
"Please?" she repeated. "Follow me to the store?"
I had to say something. My mom stood right there, waiting.
I swallowed. "Sure, auntie ..."
"You sure?" she asked me. "You don't look so sure."
My cousin had told me that her mother and my aunt was some kind of sadistic monster that wanted nothing less than to rape me. But when she smiled like that, fluttered her eyelashes again, I had to think that my cousin had made everything up, like my mother had made everything up to suck my cock in the car. She hadn't really needed to use the restroom.
People lied to get what they wanted from me. Maybe it was my magical cousin that was the sick fuck? And somehow, it felt worse to say no to her and my mother than to imagine the possibility that it would all turn out horrible. If I behaved rudely, I wouldn't hear the end of it, especially at my sister's wedding.
"No, I'm sure," I said. But I lied.
My god, what took them so long? Why weren't they married already? The priest didn't waste no time, I knew. Now we had all this time to go shopping too!
"Take my car," mom said. "It's already adjusted to him. Long legs and all."
"Yes," my aunt said, smiling, "my car is much smaller than yours."
Forcing myself to laugh with the two sisters I walked with them to the parking lot. On our way I saw my cousin. She was glaring at me. I tried to tell her with my eyes that it wasn't my fault, and by the way, if she wanted to help, she could probably do something with her bloody ... But by then we were well past. If I wanted to say anything else, I had to break my own neck.
Meanwhile, my aunt never stopped touching me. Neither did my mom, and it lulled me into a false sense of security. Nothing could happen when I was between them, or alone with either of them, even if my mom sometimes, recently, turned into some kind of cock-whore. And to be honest, I could probably adjust to that, given time. It was unorthodox, sure, but on the other hand her mouth felt amazing.
I stiffened in my tight pants as my mom rubbed my arm one last time before she closed the door to the driver's seat. My aunt slipped into the shotgun seat. I had to tear my eyes away from her well-formed chest as the seatbelt went over it. I accidently rubbed myself when I put mine on.
"Ah!" I shouted.
"What did you say, dear?" she asked.
"Nothing, I must have hit a nerve."
"Be careful, please. We wouldn't want anything to happen on your sister's wedding now, would we?"
"No," I said, and we laughed together. She seemed to mean every word of it.
In fact, it all seemed terribly normal. As I drove along, we talked about family stuff, about what my other cousins were doing. Nothing much. She didn't touch me, or insinuate anything. In fact, I got a little disappointed. Here we had a clearcut case were both lust and taboo met, and nothing happened!
Maybe it has to be with someone I don't want to have sex with, I though as I signaled to turn right, to the supermarket.
"No," she said and gripped my arm.
"Why?" I asked.
"I remember, I have a couple of bottles at home, non-alcoholic stuff," she said dreamingly.
"Oh," I replied and turned off the signal.
Cars honked behind me, but never mind. The longer we stayed away, the shorter amount of time I had to step on my toes to avoid anyone I really didn't want to have sex with. Besides, this was nice. We listened to the radio. She smiled. Fuck, I thought, she's beautiful. I risked a glance at her legs.
The neighborhood my aunt lived in was nicer than ours, with plenty of green between buildings. She waved to one of her next-door neighbors, explained what we were doing. Then she unlocked the door and I followed her in.
"The drinks are down here," she said, leading the way down the basement stairs, turning on a flickering light on her way.
I saw a couple of cases, but apparently that wasn't it, because she made me follow her even further, to a massive door.
"I keep the best stuff in here," she said over her shoulder.
Her summer outfit, her elegant makeup, made her ghostly in the dim and dusty corridor. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but before I had a chance, she opened the door and dragged me into a deep darkness.
I couldn't see a thing, and then she locked the door behind us.
"It's really dark in here," I said to lighten the mood.
"Be careful," she said. "There's a lot of stuff in here. Here, take my arm."
I reached out, and I actually yelped with pain as she used her pretty hands and nails to hold me steady. She seemed to know her way around, because she didn't stumble once as she led me to a comfortable, straight-backed chair. Leather, I thought. Something went over my wrists. Her hands, I imagined, before I tried to lift them and found that I couldn't, in the dark, and suddenly I couldn't sense her anywhere.
Something clamped my ankles in place!
"Auntie?" I asked, shifting nervously.
"I'm here, dear," she said.
"What happened to the lights?" I asked.
"Nothing wrong with the lights, just sit tight."
Crisp, white light came on suddenly, and I blinked against the pain. I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks.
