How I Bagged A Cougar

by Lubrican

I was working on the last term paper I'd have to do in high school when I heard the back door open and close, and I heard my Aunt Connie's voice ring out.

"Hey! Anybody home?"

I heard my mom's voice answer and bits of conversation, though I couldn't understand what was being said. I didn't think much about it until I felt a presence at my bedroom doorway. I looked up to see Aunt Connie standing there, leaning against the door jamb. I'd known her all my life, of course. She was a year or two younger than my mom.

Aunt Connie and I had one of those strange kid/adult relationships that sometimes happen. When I was born, she was my first babysitter. She was over at our house all the time, to see my mom, and I had mowed her lawn since I was about eleven. She had gone to picnics and concerts with us. So I saw her more than just about any other adult. Except for some of my teachers, maybe. The point is that she was the only female adult in my life other than my mom who I was really familiar with, and who kidded around with me, and talked to me for more than two minutes at a time.

Of course that meant she was also the only female in my life who I had time to really study as my male hormones kicked in.

So, when I looked at her I felt the familiar tingle in my groin that I'd been feeling every time I'd seen her since I turned fifteen. I think that was when my ability to have really good fantasies kicked in. And, believe me, Aunt Connie was easy to have them about.

Of course I knew I'd be in trouble if anybody knew I sometimes imagined her naked. She wasn't married. She'd had a boyfriend for something like ten years but they had broken up. But she was an adult, and I was a senior in high school. I might be eighteen, and able to vote - there might only be three weeks left before graduation - but that didn't mean squat to my parents in terms of me claiming to be an adult too. My folks wanted me to go to college. I wasn't so hot on the college idea. I mean I didn't know what to major in, or anything. But, if I went, maybe then they'd believe I was grown up.

But back to my tingle. Aunt Connie was just staring at me. Her arms were folded under her breasts, which kind of put them on display, you know? She had nice ones, even bigger than my mom's, which were as good as any I'd ever seen in a Playboy. Not that she knew I had seen them, but one time when she was wearing just a robe, dad had snuck up behind her, pulled it open, and cupped them. I was down the hallway, so they couldn't see me, but I could see them, and I got a clear view of him holding them up. All I could think was, I sucked on those when I was a baby!

I tried not to look at her breasts. I was kind of tongue tied.

"Hi Champ," she said. She'd called me Champ ever since I won the hundred yard dash when I was twelve. It was the only race I'd ever won.

"Hi," I said weakly.

"Guess what," she said.

"I don't know," I replied.

"I didn't ask you what you know," she said, smiling. "I told you to guess what."

"How am I supposed to know what to guess?" I asked, frustrated. My cock was getting harder and harder, and she was teasing me.

"What's gotten you all riled up?" she asked, standing up and dropping her arms.

I couldn't very well tell her that she was what had me all riled up, so I just looked away.

"Nothing. I'm trying to write a paper. It's my last one and it isn't going all that good."

"Well its Friday night, you goose," she said, laughing. "You shouldn't be doing homework now. You should be out kicking up your heels. Save the homework for Sunday night."

"I like to get it done so I don't have to worry about it," I said, only glancing at her.

"A laudable sentiment," she said gravely. "But I need a favor, and your mom said it was okay for me to ask you."

"What kind of favor?" I asked.

"I need you to come to my house and take some pictures."

I looked at her. "Pictures? What of?"

"Not 'what of'," she said. "Of whom."

"Whom of?" I asked.

She laughed.

"Me, silly."

I'd joined the photography club at school when I was a freshman. Since then, my folks had gotten me a really nice camera, a Nikon D3 100 SLR. That means single lens reflex, but that's not important unless you're into photography like I am. Suffice it to say it's a good camera that takes really quality shots. I had saved my allowance and lawn mowing money, and gotten more lenses and filters and a good flash unit for it, so it was a decent setup. I'd even had a couple of my landscapes published on one of the Farm Bureau web pages.

So here I was, lugging all my stuff into Aunt Connie 's house, which was on the other side of town from where we lived. I was born and raised in Granite City, just like my parents ... and Aunt Connie . She led me into the den and said, "How about in here?"

I was lost.

All I knew was that I was going to be taking pictures of her. I didn't know what they were for, or what style of pictures she wanted or anything.

"What for?" I asked. I was still kind of tongue tied. My cock was half hard again. Aunt Connie had a fine ass, and I had been watching it all the way into the house.

She turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised. I realized she had on bright red lipstick, just like I had seen in a commercial the night before. I remembered wondering what kind of woman would actually wear bright red lipstick like that, because I couldn't think of any woman I'd seen in real life who did. Now I realized I knew one ... and I was with her!

"'What for' what?" she asked.

"The pictures," I blurted. "What for?"

"Oh!" she said brightly. "Well ... it's a little awkward, I suppose. I didn't explain it all to your mother. She wouldn't understand. But you're all grown up and almost a man, and I know I can depend on you to be ... um ... discreet ... right, Bobby?" She only called me Bobby when it was serious.

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I wanted to please her so I nodded.

"Excellent!" she cooed. "They're for a new dating site I'm trying out."

"Dating site," I parroted.

"Yes, you know ... a place to find a date?" She grimaced. "Of course you wouldn't know anything about that. A handsome young man like yourself would never have to resort to a dating service to meet girls."

"Dating service?" I asked, confused. "You're using a dating service?"

Her face went still. "Yes ... why?"

I might not have been the best when it came to dealing with girls ... women ... but I knew the danger sound when I heard it, and it was in her voice when she said that. She confirmed it by going on.

"I suppose you think that's a complete waste of time ... that I'll never get a date."

I felt a rush of blood suffuse my face. My tongue came untied. Unfortunately my brain wasn't up to the task of governing my now loose tongue.

"Are you fucking crazy?" I blurted.

Her frown deepened, and I suddenly realized I had dropped the F bomb on an adult. And a woman to boot.

"I had no idea I was such a hag," she said stiffly.

My brain farted again.

"Damn!" I moaned. "You're anything but a hag."

Her eyebrows relaxed a bit. She looked interested, suddenly, instead of mad.

"My, my, but you have developed a potty mouth. What do you mean, exactly?"

I reviewed what had slipped out of my mouth, thanks to my loose tongue and farting brain. Basically, I had suggested that my mom's sister was as hot as I thought she was.

I was doomed.

"Exactly?" I croaked.

"Yes, Robert," she said, taking a step closer to me. "If I'm not a hag ... what am I?"

I thought furiously, but I didn't have a lot of time before I responded.

"You're the kind of woman who for sure doesn't need a dating service to get a man's attention," I said. It didn't quite come out like I thought it would. I closed my eyes.

"Why thank you!" she chirped, to my astonishment. "I knew you'd understand and be supportive. But this dating site is having a contest and I want to win it, and I need you to take the photographs for me for that to happen." She smiled brightly.

"Contest," I said.

"Yes," she said. "It's a contest to decide who's the sexiest new member to join this month. They're going to pick a male and a female winner, and those two will get to use the site free."

She had just told me I was going to be taking "sexy" pictures. It should be instructive for you, in terms of understanding how rattled I was at that moment, when you understand that I responded with:

"But you don't need to do that to get a date. You could have any man you want!"

Her smile was brilliant.

"I knew this was a good idea," she said. Then she put one hand on her hip and struck a pose. "Did I mention there's also ten thousand dollars for first place? I'll split it with you if I win."

Twenty minutes later my brain was back on track. Not only was I going to get a chance to see Aunt Connie in "sexy" poses, whatever that meant, but there could be some real money in it too. I think it was thinking about what I could do with five thousand dollars that got me functioning again. I could get a car! But I had done enough photography and entered enough contests to know there were rules and protocols, so I asked her to pull up the site so I could see them.

"We don't have time for all that, Champ," she said breezily. "Your mother said I can have you until eleven, but then I have to send you home."

"I have to know what kind of photos we're supposed to take," I insisted.

"That's easy," she said. "There are three sets. One is in evening gown. One is in swim suit. And the other is ... nude."

I blinked. "Oh shit," I whispered.

"Don't freak out, Champ," she said, her hands coming to my shoulders. "Nobody will ever find out you took them. Your mom will never know. They're just for this contest, and nobody in this one horse town will ever see them."

"Naked?" I whined.

"Come on, Bobby," she wheedled. "You're a big boy now. It won't be that bad. I thought you said I was pretty."

I still didn't think it was time for me to inform my aunt that I routinely dreamed of her naked, on her back, legs spread and arms open wide in welcome, as I hovered over her, ready to ram my rampant prick in her soft, clasping pussy.

No. Definitely not time for that yet.

"You are pretty," I said. "That's kind of the problem." I blinked. That had actually come out pretty good!

Her hands stopped on my shoulders. They squeezed gently.

"You'll be fine," she said. "Just take the pictures ... and everything will be fine."

Actually, the evening gown session wasn't all that bad. Mainly because she had awful taste in evening gowns, and seemed to think that poofy and lace was all the rage. She had two gowns and both of them made her look like she weighed at least fifty pounds more than she actually did. Of course that didn't bode all that well for the money, and of course that loosened my tongue again.

"Do you have anything more form fitting?" I asked, after I finished shooting the second dress. "Something that would complement your figure better?"

"My bikini will do that," she said, frowning slightly.

I heard the danger sound again. "Got it," I said.

She left the den and I fiddled with the sheet that I had hung up as a backdrop. I rearranged the extra lighting. I had made my own hair light and it was working well. She had the perfect hair for it, that shiny reddish brown hair that a hair light gives golden tints to.

When she came back into the room, I just stood there, shocked.

We have a municipal pool, which is where everybody goes swimming, so I had seen her in a swimsuit before. She had several suits she wore there, one of which was a bikini. It was white with flowers on it.

But that wasn't the bikini she was wearing now.

This one was bright yellow. Well, it was either bright yellow, or I was seeing spots from the flash.

Because all that was covering her body was yellow spots. There were two spots up high and a longer, thinner one down there. She spun in a circle and the spots disappeared completely. Man! She had a fine ass!

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice high. "Does this show off my figure?"

If I'd have been listening to her tone of voice, I'd have heard nervous. Instead, I think I might have drooled just a little bit. I know I didn't say anything, because my mouth wouldn't work.

She laughed. "I'll take that as a yes." Again, if I'd have been listening on a deeper level, I'd have heard relief in her voice. But all I could concentrate on were those yellow spots.

The spots were actually triangles of thin cloth, attached to dental floss that held it artfully across her body, covering her nipples and her pubic hair. The back was only floss, and damned little of that. I snapped my fourth shot and realized I was stiff as a board in my pants. But she was looking right at me, so I couldn't do anything to adjust things. And she was good at looking at me, too. You know that look that the Playboy models have? That look that says, "Want me? You can have me." She had that look. I stopped worrying about the frumpy gowns. Any man who didn't vote for this as the best was fucking blind.

It was as I took a shot of her looking over her shoulder at me, eyes smoldering, come hither look making my balls ache that I fully realized I was going to be doing this with her naked.

My knees got weak, and I left the camera on the tripod and sat down.

"Is that enough?" she asked. Her right hand came up to her right breast and, right in front of me, she squeezed the nipple through the cloth. I realized she wasn't even aware she'd done it when she said, "I want to make sure we have enough shots, so we can choose only the best ones to send in."

"We have wonderful shots," I panted.

"Okay," she said, frowning again. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," I wheezed.

She stood, feet together and arms hanging at her sides. She looked a little nervous.

"I guess I should take it off now ... huh."

I think my response was something like "Methumbrtang." I have no idea what I said.

Her eyebrows arched. "Are you all right?"

I got out one intelligible word.

"No."

"What's wrong?" She stepped toward me, and suddenly that nearly naked body was only a couple of feet away. I had been using a 28mm lens, zoomed in, which meant she was ten or twelve feet away as I took the pictures. Now I could almost smell her. I did see a sheen of sweat on her skin. Probably from the supplemental lighting. I could also see her nipples through the cloth of her top. They looked huge.

"Insane!" I barked.

She blinked. "Oh come on. It's not that bad. Don't fade on me now, Champ."

"No!" I panted, trying to explain. "Dave ... insane!"

Dave was the guy she had gone with for ten years. They had never lived together, because in our town you just couldn't get away with that kind of thing. But she had spent a lot of nights away from her house ... if you know what I mean. She never let him sleep over, as far as I knew, because she had nosy neighbors, but he lived on a small farm outside of town. Then one day she announced that Dave had broken up with her. I had thought he must be an idiot then, and had just voiced that now.

Her eyes searched my face and she got that smoky look again.

"Why thank you, Champ," she purred. "That makes me feel really good."

"I don't know if I can do this," I said, completely honestly.

Damned if she didn't sit down next to me, like we were just going to chat for a while.

"Are you still going with that nice blond girl? What's her name? Cheryl?"

I wouldn't have characterized the relationship I had with Cheryl as "going together." While she had been my girl friend (as opposed to girlfriend) for a couple of years, Cheryl had made it very clear that she knew there was life after high school, and after Granite City too, for that matter. And all that meant that she wasn't going to allow any hanky panky that might screw things up and keep her in town. I wasn't all that good with girls anyway, so I just kind of went along with things. I liked her, and there was no pressure, so she was fun to go do things with. But that seemed like a lot to explain, so I just took the easy route and nodded.

"Well, then, all you have to do is imagine that I'm Cheryl. You like seeing her naked, right?

I was thunderstruck. Here was an adult asking me to not only admit that I'd seen my girlfriend naked (which I hadn't), but also to casually admit how routine it was!

"It's not like that!" I choked out.

"Well, of course she's a little shy with you," said the soon-to-be-naked woman sitting beside me, completely misunderstanding my last comment. "That's only natural. I mean the only reason I feel so comfortable like this is that it's you. I used to change your diapers. Surely you don't think I let just any man see me like this."

My mind wrestled with the idea that the whole purpose of taking these pictures was so that a whole mess of men could see her like this.

"Think of the money, Bobby," she cooed in my ear.

I'll be completely honest with you. At that point, I couldn't have cared less about the money.

My knees were working again. I was bent over, looking through the viewfinder of my camera. My thumb was on the cable release. I figured maybe it would be better to see her this way, rather than by looking directly at her. I watched as her hands came up to the top of her suit and fiddled with the floss. The yellow spots fluttered down and away from breasts that made me salivate, even through the viewfinder.

Her breasts were perfect ... round and full, with a little sag, but not baggy, you know? Her nipples were an almost shocking red color. I think it was that that made me stand up and look right at her. I realized the nipples were the same color as her lips. She saw my eyes going back and forth.

"I put lipstick on them," she said softly. "Is it too much?"

She was so calm about this. I think maybe it was the combination of that calm demeanor, and the lipstick on her nipples, that did something to me, because all of a sudden I felt completely at ease. She was still drop dead gorgeous. I still wanted her more than life itself. But suddenly that was all okay.

"We'll take shots both ways," I said, my voice suddenly stronger than it had been for the last half hour.

Don't ask me why, but I put my spare memory card in, so these shots would be separate from the others. I talked her through a bunch of poses. She looked good bending over, with those breasts hanging, because you could see her nipples really well against the sheet. They stood out half an inch, maybe, but it was hard to tell in the front on shots. When I was satisfied I said, "Okay, now the bottoms."

She hesitated only enough that I noticed it, and realized that she might not be as comfortable with this as she was letting on. I knew she had teased me, and something in me wanted to tease back for some reason.

"Come on," I said softly. "Don't chicken out on me now. I've been waiting to see this for years."

That smoky look came back into her eyes and her fingers flicked at the ties of her bottoms. They fell straight down and she kicked, catching them on her toe and flinging them to one side.

"You mean this?" she asked, her voice deep.

I swallowed. Remember that long thin spot of yellow that covered her pubic hair?

No it didn't.

There was no pubic hair to cover.

"Damn," I sighed.

"Potty mouth," she accused. "How should I pose?"

"Lying down, on your back, with your knees spread" I sighed. I felt myself blush, but by this time I realized somehow, that my lecherous comments weren't offensive to her.

"Why, Champ," she cooed. "Are you having naughty thoughts about me?"

"Let's just say that if my mother knew what I was thinking about her sister ... I'd be grounded until I was thirty."

"You do have a silver tongue when you want to," she sighed. "I have a confession to make."

"What's that?"

"They don't really want nude shots for the contest."

"Oh." My mind whirled. "So ... um ... why ...?"

She walked over to me. The camera was between us until she lifted the tripod and moved it aside. Then she was inches in front of me, in all her naked glory.

"Because, Bobby, if I don't get laid, I'm going to go stark, raving mad, and there's no man in this town that I can let do that ... except maybe you."

I don't know why my brain was suddenly able to deal with all this, but it was.

"You'd let me do that?" I asked.

I saw her eyes fill up with tears. "Oh baby," she whined. "I need you so bad right now. You've grown up to be such a hunk, and I know I shouldn't do this, but every time I look at you I get so horny I need a car battery to keep my vibrator going, and you're going to graduate and go away and I'll be stuck in this town forever. At least I can get my bell rung one more time before you go ... please?"

This was a little bizarre. I mean Aunt Connie was a hottie, and she really could have any guy she wanted. And that made it seem a little off that she wanted ... me. Don't get me wrong. I was all for it. But it just didn't seem possible.

So I tried to make sure I wasn't having some kind of wild dream, or mental episode.

"So there was no contest?" I asked.

She blinked.

"Of course there's a contest," she said. "Except for the naked part. They didn't really ask for nude photos. Just the evening gown and swimsuit shots. I was hoping that you'd get excited if I got naked in front of you."

"I've been excited by you since I was fifteen," I said. "And you didn't have to be naked."

Her smile was brilliant. "And that is why I have found you so irresistible all these years."

"Good grief," gasped Aunt Connie, as she tried hard to get enough air into her lungs to stay conscious.

"What's wrong?" I asked, breathing hard myself. "Didn't I do it right?"

"I ... completely ... forgot ... about the ... stamina ... of a young ... man!" she panted.

That made me feel pretty good. Of course I was feeling pretty good anyway. I wasn't a virgin anymore, and she had squealed and taken skin off my back with her fingernails five different times since I got naked with her and she adopted the pose I had suggested.

Let me tell you, by the way, that there is nothing cooler than a good looking naked woman ... on her back ... legs spread ... reaching for you ... and saying, "Hurry Bobby. I need you bad!" Nothing!

Okay, maybe when you slide your prick in her and her pussy walls flutter and move and squeeze and her arms go around you and she groans in that special way that tells you she has just been made really happy ... that's cooler. There's nothing cooler than that, though.

Then again, I guess it's pretty cool when she pants faster and faster and her voice gets higher and louder until she squeals and says she's cumming and that she loves you and for you please not to stop. Yeah ... I have to admit that's about as cool as it gets.

Except for the part where your balls feel like they're going to explode and there's this overwhelming sweet pain in your cock and you're blubbering like a little girl and she puts her lips right by your ear and licks it and says, "Cum in me, Bobby. Spurt in my pussy, baby." I mean that's killer cool. Especially when you get to do it three times.

I rolled over and looked at her heaving breasts. The lipstick was all gone now. It was cherry flavored, and I love cherries, not to mention sucking on her nipples. Now they were just pink, on a slightly darker areola that was still a little swollen. I really liked sucking on them.

"Can we go again?" I asked.

Her head rolled toward mine. Her eyes looked kind of big, and I could see white all the way around her irises.

"If you don't go home in the next ten minutes your mother is going to send out the cavalry looking for you. I had to promise you'd be home by eleven."

"I'll call her and tell her I'm fine," I said. I leaned over and licked a nipple. "Besides ... we didn't finish taking the nude shots."

She smiled. "I told you there aren't really any nude shots."

"Yes there are," I said. "There is no way I'm going to college, or anywhere else, without a full set of them."

She frowned. "I'm not too sure I like the idea of photographs of me all naked floating around loose in the world."

"I have to have them," I said. "I mean if I'm ever broke, and on the skids, and homeless, I can probably get thousands for them, and get back on my feet."

Women have no sense of humor. And you'd think that if I rang her bell so thoroughly, that she'd be happy enough with me to overlook one bad joke, you know?

But she made me get dressed and go home. She was holding a big wad of tissues between her legs, and kind of wiping the inside of her thighs, complaining about the mess I made, and how she hadn't planned on that, which sounded kind of goofy. I mean she admitted that she got me over there under false pretenses just so she could get her bell rung, right? So why was she complaining now?

I found out when she shoved me out the door. Just before I left she kissed me (go figure) and handed me a foil packet. It was a condom and she said, "Put this in your billfold, in case we can't get together here the next time."

"What?" I was confused.

"I got it for you to use tonight, but I got so excited I forgot I had it. Just keep it with you," she said and shoved me out the door. She was still naked.

I really didn't want to go home.

I was pretty sure my mom would take one look at me and know exactly what I had been doing with her sister for the last three hours. And I don't mean taking pictures. In fact, it turned out that it was a really good thing that I had put the nude shots on the extra card, because the first thing my mother did was grab my camera and demand to see the photographs. I was also glad I'd put the original card back in the camera.

Apparently she had told Mom about the contest, and what the pictures were for, but had left the rest kind of vague.

I started off with the gowns, of course. Mom agreed with me, even though I kept my mouth shut.

"Good Lord, what was she thinking?" muttered my mother as the shots flickered past.

Then we got to the first bikini shot and she got kind of pale. She looked at me closely.

"I shouldn't have let you go," she moaned. "That must have been hard on you."

"Why?" I asked. I mean it hadn't been that hard.

"She was almost naked!" barked my mom.

Now I'm no fool. I know the right response to some things.

"Come on, Mom," I said, making it sound like I was horrified. "Get a life. She's my aung and she's ... old!"

Like I said ... women have no sense of humor. I got sent to bed.

Maybe it was because Mom is the elder sister.

Aunt Connie could be in movies. Not because she's beautiful. I mean she is, but she's a whopping good actress too. The next time I saw her, she acted like nothing had happened at all. She didn't pay me any attention, like stopping by my room to say hi, or wink at me or anything. She came in the back door, just like always, yelled, "Yoo hoo!" and got in an argument with my mother about modesty and what constituted being a tramp and things like that. I didn't hear it all, but it went on for a while and I knew better than to stick my nose out of my room.

It didn't matter, though, because they came to me. My mother had confiscated the camera and they had an argument about that too, before they showed up in my doorway.

"Bobby?" My mother's voice sounded too sweet. "Connie is actually going to send in those awful photographs. It has to be done online, though, and neither one of us knows how to do it. Could we impose on you to do that for her?"

I put down the graphic novel I had been reading and said, "Sure. No prob."

Aunt Connie was looking around the room like I wasn't even there. I took the camera from Mom, and got the cable to plug it into my computer.

"Can we hurry, please?" asked Aunt Connie . "The cutoff is in an hour. If I get them in after that, I'm disqualified."

"We'll get them done before that," I said confidently. "What's the web address?"

She thought for a minute and then came over to me. "I can type it better than recite it," she said, and pushed me to one side. She bent over the computer and I stared at the front of her blouse. I saw my mother moving in my peripheral vision and looked at the screen. Aunt Connie glanced at me. I couldn't help but look back. She has gorgeous eyes.

"So I'm old?" she mouthed at me. Then she stomped on my foot as she stood up and moved back.

"There," she said.

We went through all the shots. By "we," I mean my mother and Aunt Connie . They argued about which gown shots to send in. My mom was trying to be nice, but it was pretty clear she hated them all. When it got to the bikini shots mom stood back.

"They're all pornographic," she harrumphed. "Any of those will do, but mark my words, they'll sell them to the internet and pretty soon every man in town will be drooling over them."

I almost said not every man ... but I controlled the urge.

When we were finished my mother insisted that I delete the pictures from the camera memory card. I think she was sure they'd eventually corrupt me. If only she knew. Then, her mission complete, she preceded her friend out of the room.

In a flash, Aunt Connie was leaning over me, her hand in my lap. She grabbed a handful of balls and squeezed.

"Old?" she hissed.

"It was to misdirect her," I gasped.

She let off the pressure and smiled brightly. "I know."

Then she gave me a kiss that probably 99% of people would say is the wrong kind of kiss for an aunt to give her nephew and left the room.

It was a short kiss, but it was still good enough that I had to beat off that night so I could get to sleep.

Now, I have to say here that Aunt Connie had said she wanted to get her bell rung "once, before I left." And, being a teenage boy, who believed that adults mostly told the truth, I was pretty sure that "once" had already happened.

Still, I took the time to go back to the website I had uploaded the pictures to. I had to join to look at the pictures or vote, so I used my dad's name. I looked at her competition, and picked the one I thought was the worst looking, and voted for that one. Then I also voted for the most dorky looking guy. Of course to a person my age, almost all forty year old men look dorky, but I didn't want her to win and get lots of offers for dates, and if she did, I wanted the male winner to be someone she hopefully wouldn't be interested in.

If I couldn't have her any more, then I didn't want any other guy to have her either. I know. It's sad. But it's how I felt.

It turned out she was just a good actress, and had pretty good self-control.

She waited the appropriate time and came over again, looking downcast. She announced to my mother that Mom was right and she was wrong, and that the web site had suggested she retake the gown photographs in dresses that were "slightly more up to date." They also said that such gowns could be rented from a bridal store. In no time she had my mother commiserating with her, instead of saying, "I told you so!"

And suddenly I was detailed to go take more photographs. My mom made sure to explain that only the dress shots needed to be retaken. I think she was happy when I said, "Thank goodness. I don't want her to feel bad ... but she's kind of wrinkly, you know?"

I might have overplayed it a bit. My mother started sniffling and wiping her eyes.

Aunt Connie wasn't stupid. I mean she knew what had happened the last time I got home with the camera. So there really were new dresses, even though the story about the site asking for more shots was pure bull. And we took pictures of her in them.

This time, though, when she changed dresses, she didn't leave the room to do it. She just got naked and put on the next one. She took her time too, teasing me.

When I had taken the last picture, I teased back.

"Okay then. That should do it. I'd better get home so I can get these downloaded and act like I'm sending them in."

Ever been tackled by a naked woman? It's really quite fun. She tried to tickle me, but it was no contest, because she was naked (and ticklish) while I was not. So I kissed her, and she kind of lost interest in the fun and games thing. She started undoing the buttons of my shirt, and pulling at my belt and stuff like that.

I stood up and got naked. It was so cool, watching her watch me. Her eyes glittered, and she licked her lips. She looked ... I don't know ... eager, maybe? It made me feel good. I know she stared at my cock when it was uncovered. I was already rock hard, of course. It was the kind of hardon that makes your cock stick almost straight up, practically parallel with your abdomen. I started for her and she put up a hand to push at me.

"Condom!" she barked. "Mamma is ovulating tonight, and we don't want to make a little Champ in my belly. Oh no. Get that condom I gave you and put it on."

I stared at her, thinking about what she had just said. Honest to Pete, I had not even once thought about what all that spunk I had shot into her might be capable of doing to her. It was kind of scary. I got my billfold out of my pants, and got the condom out that she had given me. I had no experience with condoms. It must have been obvious, because as I fumbled with it she said, "Give me that!" and snatched it out of my hand.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back with one of her hands around my stiff prick. The fingertips of that hand were holding one part of the circle she took out of the packet and her other hand pulled on it and slipped it over the tip of my cock. I didn't understand what she was doing at first, because she was pulling down on the skin around my shaft with the gripping hand, while still trying to keep the fingertips of that hand on the condom.

"This is very different," she muttered.

"Different?" I prodded.

"Dave didn't have a foreskin like you," she said. "If I trap the foreskin, I don't know if you'll feel things or not. But I can't pull the foreskin back and pull the condom on at the same time."

So she taught me how to put a condom on while she held my foreskin in the uncovered position. I know this doesn't sound very romantic, but you have to remember that a good looking woman - who I was going to have sex with - was playing with my prick. So romance wasn't all that important at that particular moment.

It looked kind of funny with that thing on it. When I got it on, she still wasn't happy, because she said the tip was too tight. So she pulled at it until there was a little empty bag right at the tip, which made it look even stranger. But then she kissed me, and started rubbing my cock while she demanded that I suck her nipples again, and pretty soon she was pulling me on top of her.

It didn't feel the same. I couldn't feel the heat as much. And things felt ... I don't know ... maybe too slippery? But I could feel her breasts against my chest, and she was making those awesome moaning sounds that told me how happy she was, so I had a good time anyway. I do know one thing. With that condom on, I didn't get the urge to spew in her for a long time, and so she got to have a lot of orgasms. Finally she went limp and then lifted her head to whisper things in my ear again. They were nasty things, and I couldn't believe my ears.

"Cum in me, Bobby," she hissed. "Shoot your spunk in me, baby. Get me all knocked up and fat with your baby."

I thought about the condom, and what she'd said about not wanting there to be any Bobby Juniors. It was a little confusing. But her fingernails dug into my ass and she got all wild, saying how much she wanted to feel me shooting in her and stuff. And it got me excited, and when I came it seemed to go on and on for a long time. This time I was out of breath too, and I kind of collapsed on her. I knew I was heavy on top of her, so I rolled over onto my back.

"Ohhhh," she complained, reaching for me. She rolled onto her side and looked down and said, "Shit!"

"What?" I panted.

"The fucking thing broke!"

I lifted my head. My cock looked really funny. It was all milky looking, and the condom was still around the shaft, except that the foreskin was poking out of the latex where it had torn or something.

"Shit!" she yipped and she bounced out of bed, running for the bathroom.

I didn't know what to do. The condom looked kind of slimy or something, so I pulled it off my cock. Then I didn't know what to do with it. So I got up, holding it out away from me. I wondered if I could just put it in the trash can, or whether maybe it was supposed to be flushed or something. I went to the bathroom to ask Aunt Connie . I mean we had just had sex. That's kind of intimate, you know? So why would seeing her in the bathroom be any different? She was sitting on the pot with her legs spread, wiping at herself and muttering. She yelled at me, saying she was on the potty, which was obvious, but I figured out that somehow her being in the bathroom was different than lying there spread open in bed, so I backed out.

I didn't know what to do. She had yelled at me, so I didn't feel like I could ask her anything. So finally I got dressed and, condom in hand, I left the house. I went around back, to the bushes along the alley, and tossed the condom over them.

Then I walked home.

My dad is a member of the Rotary Club, and they offered me a scholarship to go to the state university. My parents wanted me to go, so there wasn't much I could say. Not only did they give me a scholarship, they found me a place to live and a summer job in Clinton, where the university is located. Dad said it would give me a leg up on the other freshmen, and that kind of thing. All it meant to me was that I was going to miss out on my last summer of freedom. I would only have two weeks after graduation before my folks would take me to Clinton and get me set up, and I would start my job.

This was all announced at supper, two days after the condom broke. Aunt Connie hadn't been to the house since then, but happened to pick that night to drop in. We were used to that. She ate with us all the time. So she was there when they broke the news.

Aunt Connie got all weird about it, of course. She said, "How wonderful!" all perky and stuff, but her eyes weren't smiling along with her mouth. The rest of supper seemed normal, but after supper, while Mom and Dad were trying to figure out what to watch on TV, she pulled me into the hallway.

"You're leaving!" she said, looking like she was about to cry.

"I know," I said, feeling like I was about to cry too.

She went to the doorway to the living room and called out to my parents.

"Hey, Champ and I are going to go get ice cream to celebrate. You guys want some?"

They yelled back, which wasn't necessary. Dad always got orange sherbet and Mom always got mint chocolate chip. I could have told her that.

But we didn't go get ice cream, of course. Not right away, at least.

Instead we went to her house and, maybe because we were in a hurry, or maybe because the last condom had broken, there was no talk of condoms. There was only a wild woman, getting us both naked and pulling me on top of her and wanting to be pounded with my prick, which I was only too happy to do. And she only had one orgasm before she wrapped her legs around me and tried to crush me and cried into my ear about how much she wished I could stay. She kept thanking me too, for some reason. And when I felt the urge to cum, I just enjoyed the feel of all that soothing semen shooting through my prick, because I loved that too.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I was just a punk kid, eighteen years old - young, dumb, and full of cum - but it was more than that. It wasn't that I just loved fucking. I mean that was great, but what I really loved - was addicted to, really - was fucking her. I had known her all my life. I liked her. She had always treated me like I was more grown up than I was. And it had even carried over into this! So it wasn't crazy for me to think I loved her.

Anyway, it was very rushed, and painfully sweet, because she cried as we got dressed, and kept crying as I drove us to Braums, and stayed in the car and got control of herself, while I went in and got the pints of ice cream. At least she wasn't crying when I got back to the car. And by the time we got back home, she seemed normal again, though she didn't smile quite as much, or seem as free and easy as usual.

And that was the last time we were alone together before I left.

The only bright spot during that whole time was that Aunt Connie got second place in the contest at the dating site, and got six months of service at the site for free.

I know I should have been happy that she also got five dating matches, according to the site.

But I wasn't.

The Livingston Water Company hired me as a general gofer for the summer. They had two specialties: water softening and tankless water heaters.

Both were expensive, though both were well worth the money, as I soon found out. It's sad to see what hard water can do to the pipes in a house - pipes that are both expensive and difficult to replace. The water heater is easier, but hard water cuts its usable life at least in half, maybe more. But try to explain that to people when you tell them the water softener they need costs two grand, and the water heater you want to sell them costs as much as six conventional water heaters. Still, some people got it, and Livingston's techs were busy all the time.

It just so happened that I got assigned to a tech named Judy Danner. Her maiden name was Livingston and she was one of the boss's daughters. She was in her mid-twenties, married, and had a kid who her husband stayed home with. She was also really easy on the eyes.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I got it on with Judy Danner, who changed my life and made me forget all about Aunt Connie .

You're only half right. She changed my life, all right, but not because we got frisky. She changed my life because she's the reason I decided not to go to college after all.

Judy was an installer. She'd been around the company all her life, and she understood the inner workings of everything her father had designed. Livingston had their own designs and they were good ones. Their manufacturing was contracted out, but all the installation and service was done by Livingston techs. And I learned from the best.

I was living in the basement of this old lady who was the mother of one of the Rotary Club members back in Granite City, and the rent was only a hundred and seventy-five dollars a month. And after the first two weeks, when Judy found out I was a quick learner and was good with my hands, I got a raise, so I was doing pretty well financially speaking. I couldn't afford a car yet, but Judy would come pick me up in the morning on the way to our first job. Sometimes those jobs were in other towns, because Livingston's sales area included all of our state, and part of Arkansas, the next one over.

We were on the road to a town 200 miles away, in fact, when my cell phone went off. I was surprised, because the only people who ever called me were my parents, and they only called in the evenings. I looked at the readout and saw a Granite City number, but I didn't recognize it. When I answered, it was Aunt Connie .

"Hey!" I said, grinning like an idiot.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Great," I said. "Except I miss you."

It went on like that and I didn't even think about Judy listening until after Aunt Connie had told me she wanted to come see me, and I had told her how to find where I was living, and hung up.

"Girlfriend?" asked Judy, glancing over at me.

I swallowed. This was kind of a pickle. I took the easy way out.

"Yeah."

"I was starting to worry about you," said Judy.

"Why?"

"Because you didn't seem interested in girls."

"Oh, I'm interested," I said. For some reason I looked at her boobs. Hers were kind of small. She caught me looking, but didn't say anything. Maybe because I'd blushed and looked away.

"So when she comes to visit, is she going to stay all night?"

I blushed harder. Aunt Connie had told me to be rested up, because she was going to wear me out Friday night when she got here. "Yeah."

"You need someplace for her to stay?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I mean I'm not stupid. It was obvious Judy was suggesting she expected my "girlfriend" to stay someplace else besides Mrs. Sessner's basement ... with me. But I wasn't about to mess things up, and it really wasn't any of her business ... right?

"I've got it covered," I said, looking out the window.

"I bet you do," she said, and then laughed.

It wasn't until then that I realized she had been messing with me the whole time.

I think we both got "Hi!" out before our lips were welded together and fingers started flying and clothes started coming off. Aunt Connie was frantic. I guess I was too, come to think of it. Then she put her hand on my chest and stopped things. The first thing I thought of was that I was going to have to install another condom, but she said she had been lacking in my education, and wanted to catch things up.

What she was talking about was foreplay. We had never needed much foreplay to get things going before, but she said I needed to know how to do that, because the girls I was going to meet wouldn't be as crazy for me as she was. She made me feel good.

So she taught me all about her girly parts, and what to touch, and how to touch it, and what to touch it with. Which is the polite way of saying I learned how to finger fuck and eat pussy. Then she gave me my first blowjob, and I fully understood why they called it a blow job, because she blew my mind.

It being a night of education, she went on to show me how things can be done with the woman on top, which was kind of nice, except that while I loved watching her squirm and wiggle and have orgasms all over the place, and while it made it easy to play with her breasts, the urge to cum was very elusive with her on top. I finally had to tell her, at which point she flopped down beside me and said she had a treat for me. She had me enter her and then closed her legs, which put my knees outside her thighs.

"This is close to what a virgin feels like," she said.

I learned that night that tight means extensive friction and stimulation, which means the guy cums way fast.

It wasn't until we were resting, after that first hour of making love, that I asked her how she pulled off getting away from town overnight without my mother wondering what was going on.

"I'm on a date," she said simply.

"This isn't like any date I've ever been on," I said, smiling.

"No, I told her I was going to meet one of my matches at the dating service," she said.

"You lied to my mother?" I was incredulous.

"You bet your ass I did," she said. "You want me to tell her where I really went, and what I really did with who I went to visit?"

"I guess not," I said.

"I'm going to go on more dates too," she said, rolling over to reach for my penis.

Aunt Connie only stayed that one night, and got up early to drive back home the next morning. She said she wanted to be home when Mom called to ask about her date, and that would keep things from getting awkward and all that stuff.

The next Monday Judy asked me how my weekend was. I said it was fun and left it at that.

Aunt Connie decided that she needed to go on a matching date every two weeks. She reported to my mother that the men were nice, and even "dated" one of them three times before "they" decided it wasn't working. I decided that being an adult was a tense and dangerous proposition and that I was glad I was only eighteen and had years to go before I had to start playing games like that.

And Judy kept teaching me more and more about the internal workings of the various models of water softeners we serviced, including those of some competing brands. Pretty soon I could do just about anything that needed doing. She said she was impressed with me. I still had some difficulties with soldering, but she said that was because I wasn't good yet at knowing whether there was water in the lines I was trying to solder on or not.

I don't want to make it sound like the only thing Aunt Connie and I did was fuck our brains out. We did that, but we did other things too, when she had time. Like the time she came up on a Saturday, to spend the whole day with me. And after greeting each other in our normal manner, which involved naked bodies and a lot of heavy breathing, we went out to eat.

Which is how Judy met my "girlfriend," when she came over to our table with her husband and little boy as they were leaving the restaurant Aunt Connie and I had just walked into.

"This is your girlfriend?" asked Judy, arching one eyebrow and looking Aunt Connie up and down.

It made me kind of mad, because it was obvious she didn't approve.

"Connie," I said, turning to her. "This is Judy, my boss." I looked at Judy. "This is Connie, and I love her."

Aunt Connie, never one to take derision lightly, said, "Hi. It's a small town, and the pickings were kind of slim. And he's a strapping lad, don't you think?"

I was pretty sure the two of them weren't going to be the best of friends.

But, all in all, I would have characterized everything as perfect. I loved my job, and I was good at it. I loved what Aunt Connie and I had found together, even though I knew it wasn't socially acceptable.

Life was good.

And then Aunt Connie called one night and said she'd met a man on a real date, from her dating service, and that she couldn't come see me anymore.

I didn't take it well. She said she was sorry, and how she loved me and all that, but that she and this guy could make a life together, which was her way of telling me that she and I could not.

Judy could tell right away that something was wrong. She was no slouch in the brains department.

"Fight with your ... girlfriend?" she asked as we drove to our next service call. I had figured out pretty quickly that she didn't really need me for anything except the heavy lifting. Water softener tanks can weigh out at a hundred and eighty pounds, and moving them around can be taxing if you're not buff. But she had taught me the business while I was doing all that heavy lifting, and now we made a good team. With two of us we could do almost twice the work, so it didn't actually turn out to cost the company much more for my wages.

I wanted to shrink into something the size of an atom when I started crying. There I was, the big, strong, macho man, bawling like a baby. I felt like such a wimp.

She didn't say anything, and just kept driving. Eventually she said, "I figured she was a cougar. I knew she'd break your heart. But I couldn't say anything. I'm sorry."

I felt called to defend Aunt Connie, and that gave me enough control of myself to only sob now and then.

"She's not a cougar," I sniffed. "You don't understand."

"I know," she said, but I could tell she was just agreeing with me to be nice. "There's lots of girls out there, and you're not completely ugly."

I appreciated her attempt at humor, and the fact she was trying to make me feel better.

"Hey," she went on. "Maybe this is a good time to ask you something."

"What?"

"How serious are you about college?"

I looked over at her. "I don't know. Why?"

"What I mean is do you have a burning desire to go to college and save the world and all that?" she asked.

"No," I admitted. "I don't even know what I'm going to major in. College is more my parents' idea than mine."

She seemed to think about that for a moment, and then spoke. "Dad wants to expand the business and open a shop in Shelbyville." Shelbyville was at the far end of our territory, across the border in Arkansas.

"Okay," I said.

"He said I could manage it," she said.

"That's great," I responded. "Congratulations."

"Mike said he was willing to move there with me," she said.

Mike was one of the technicians. He and I hadn't talked much, but I'd seen his work, and it was good. I didn't understand why she was talking about this, unless it was just to get my mind off of Aunt Connie. I didn't say anything. She looked over at me.

"I'm going to need some other people."

"I'm sure you'll find them," I said, feeling more and more like there was something I was supposed to understand, but didn't.

"I want one of them to be you, you dufus!" she finally barked. "But its full time, and you'll have to move there. You won't be able to go to college." She drove on for a few seconds. "Well, I guess you can take correspondence courses."

"You want me?" I was astonished.

"You have the makings of a good tech, Bob," she said. "You picked up on stuff a lot faster than the average guy."

"You're a good teacher," I said. I was still pretty amazed.

Then she talked about what she called my compensation package, and I was even more amazed.

It was one thing to start a career, with good pay and benefits, and a boss I liked and worked well with. It was another to inform my parents that while I appreciated everything they had done to get me to college, I was going to turn up my nose at it. It was easier to go to Arkansas with Judy and get established in my new position in the company. The cost of living was really cheap in Shelbyville, and I was able to rent a whole house for three hundred dollars a month.

Eventually I had to tell my parents, though. I knew I should do this in person, but I couldn't. I didn't have a car, yet, and it was too far to hitch. I had a job now, and responsibilities.

So I called, and my mother answered, and pretty soon I had to tell her.

It was ugly.

But you don't need to know all the details. All you really need to know is that, during that conversation, while she was yelling at me, she said something like this: "First my sister goes and gets herself pregnant by some complete stranger, and now you want to throw away your future! Is the whole world going crazy?"

I had to yell at her to get her to stop yelling herself.

"Aunt Connie is pregnant?" I asked.

That distracted Mom a little bit. At least she wasn't yelling at me any more.

"Yes. She started going on dates with strange men she met on that internet dating thing! It was all because of those stupid pictures you took of her, and the men flocked around her like bees to honey and she was stupid and one of them got her with child."

"Who got her with child?" I asked, feeling my chest tighten.

"She doesn't even know!" squealed my mother. "Can you imagine that? My sister? The girl I grew up with? She's a complete slut and I never even knew it! It's no wonder Dave dumped her!"

"Mom!" I snapped.

"Well I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is. I mean if she doesn't even know who knocked her up, then it's a sad day for all of us. She's throwing her life away! And now you want to do the same thing!"

And that got her going again.

Eventually I hung up. I was just tired of hearing it.

I called Aunt Connie next. When she answered and I told her who I was, all she said was, "Oh hi. How's it going?"

She sounded kind of down. I was pretty sure I knew why.

"So ... Mom says you're pregnant," I said.

Suddenly her voice was stronger. "I can't talk to you right now, Bobby. I forgot I have something I have to go do. Sorry."

And she hung up. Just like that.

Now this was a pivotal moment in my life, but it's hard to explain because a heck of a lot was going on in my brain at the time. Let me say it this way. I knew Aunt Connie had just lied to me. She hadn't forgotten anything, and she didn't have anything to go do. She just didn't want to talk to me about it. And then I remembered how good an actress (liar) she was after she took my virginity. And she had been lying to my mother about going on dates, when actually she was coming to see me and fuck my brains out ... during which I routinely served her up quantities of sperm ... sperm that was not inhibited by a condom, because we had given up using them. She had said something about a diaphragm once, and going to the doctor to get on the pill, but I hadn't followed up on those things.

And I remembered what her voice sounded like when she called me and said she had a new boyfriend and couldn't come see me anymore. It had sounded just like she sounded a minute ago when she said she couldn't talk because she had to go do "something."

Now I might not be magnet-come-loudly, or whatever it is they call those smart college people, but I'm not completely stupid either. And it wasn't a heck of a jump to get to the point where I was willing to believe I might have had something to do with this pregnancy business.

Oh hell, let's be honest. I didn't think for a second that some faceless guy had gotten her pregnant after she stopped letting me try to get her pregnant. And I say that because I remembered all those whispers in my ear, when she sounded for all the world like she wanted to have my baby. I had always thought it was just talk, to make it more exciting. Which it did, come to think of it. But the point is ... sometimes she meant what she said, and sometimes she didn't. The trick was telling which was which.

I called Judy. I asked her if she knew anybody who would loan or rent me a car.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

This was my new boss. I wasn't going to try to con her or hide things from her.

"Remember my girlfriend? It seems she got pregnant. I suspect she didn't want to burden me with that news, and that's why she broke up with me."

"Well she's an idiot then," said Judy, "and you're better off without her."

"It's my baby, Judy."

"Yeah? You sure?" She really didn't like the cougar.

"Did Jerry want to know if Thomas was really his when you told him you were pregnant?"

She sounded shocked. "We were married!"

"So?" I was mad. I knew I should shut up, but I was mad at two women now.

"Okay," she said. "I'll take your word for it. It's your baby. That sucks."

"No it doesn't," I said. "I loved her and she loved me. She thought I was going to go to college and save the world, but that's not the deal any more, thanks to you."

"Oh Lord," sighed Judy. "I've offered the boy a way to ruin his life completely."

"Do you know anybody with a car or not?" I asked.

"I'll call you back. Meanwhile go beat your head against the wall for a while. That seems to be what you love to do."

Judy, despite the fact that she was only five or six years older than me, was a full-fledged mother, and so she had the maternal instinct that caused her to decide that I could not be allowed to go and face this conniving, nefarious cougar all by myself.

In other words, she said she'd take me to see Aunt Connie, and if that wasn't good enough, then I was going to have to find my own way down there. And back. In time for work the next day.

Which is why, when I showed up at Aunt Connie's front door and banged on it, Judy was standing behind me.

I think it might have gotten ugly, except that as soon as she opened the door, she burst into tears and hung on me like Spanish moss hangs on the trees down south. She was bawling so much that Judy's maternal instincts apparently couldn't tell the difference between an almost grown man who needed protecting, and a woman fifteen years older than she was who was falling apart. Apparently a crying woman holds more weight, because it wasn't long before Judy was holding Aunt Connie's hand and telling her it was going to be all right and to sit down and drink something and when was the last time she slept because she just looked awful.

Well that got her attention and she calmed down. She shot me a look, which I wasn't really able to interpret, so I asked Judy if we could have a few minutes alone. She must have decided Aunt Connie was too wracked with grief to be much danger to me, and went outside.

An interesting thing happened when I was left alone with my pregnant lover. She didn't look any different, but I knew everything was different. And I knew that things were anything but settled, and that there was the potential for real pain and damage in this situation. I was pretty sure I knew why she had hidden this from me, but that didn't mean I could change her mind. So when she said, "I'm sorry," I didn't do what I thought she expected me to do.

"I have to tell you something," I said instead.

"What?"

"This happened a while back, before I knew you were pregnant. You have to understand that and believe it. If you don't, I can call Judy back in here, because she was involved."

"What?" Aunt Connie was frowning now.

"She offered me a job ... a full time job ... with a good salary and benefits. She's training me to be a technician with Livingston and they've opened a new branch where I'm working. It's in Arkansas. I've already moved there."

She wasn't frowning any more. Now she looked confused. "What? But what about college?"

"I don't have to have any college for this job," I said. "I love the work. It's a good career with a good company. If it doesn't work out - which I don't see any way of happening - I can always go to college then. But I doubt that will happen, because I'm already good at what I do. And Judy's teaching me ... and she's going to be my boss."

"I don't understand," she whined. "Your parents will be furious."

"Yeah," I said. "Mom has already yelled at me, but that's okay. I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is you acting stupid because you think it's in my best interests."

She blinked. She started to get mad. I held up one hand and put my finger on her lips.

"Do you love me?"

She tried to spit at my finger, which is hard to do when the finger is pushing at your lips.

"Do you?" I asked, louder.

She slumped as all the fight went out of her. "Yes."

"So what happens when you have to take time off from work to have the baby?" I asked.

I didn't think she could look more miserable, but she did.

"I don't know. I'll probably get fired. People at work are already saying horrible things behind my back."

"Well then, I think you should sell the house and move away," I said.

"What?" She looked confused again.

"Arkansas is really beautiful," I said. "Like I said, I moved there and I have a house. There's plenty of room. You could come stay with me. If anybody asks, you could tell them it's just until you find your own place."

She was quiet for a handful of seconds. Then she snorted. "That's insane, Bobby."

I shook my head. "What's insane is our baby growing up without a daddy, because people are too stupid to let him have one. In Arkansas we'll just be one more couple. We can just be together."

"That sounds wonderful," she said carefully. "But your parents will never go along with this."

"My parents didn't get you pregnant." I didn't like the sound of that. "What I mean is that my parents aren't the ones in love with you. They had me and they raised me. I want the chance to raise my son too. They can't argue with that, and if they do, I don't care. This is our business ... not theirs."

"Bobby, it's not that easy. Society isn't going to accept a couple with an age difference as big as ours," she said. "And that doesn't take into account the fact that we're related. We've been committing incest, Bobby. I could maybe get arrested, or something."

"Okay, I get that. I don't care about either issue, but I know other people will. But who promised you life would be easy? Do you prefer to be a single mom, trying to raise a baby in Granite City? You think that will be a barrel of laughs? But in Arkansas, we'll only have one of those problems because nobody will know we're related. All the'll know is that you came to live with me. You can even say it's because you weren't welcome in Granite City anymore."

"That part is true," she said, darkly. People are acting like I have the plague." She slumped, but then said, "I'd love to be with you all the time. Of course I want our baby to know who her daddy is."

"Then come live with me," I said.

"You make it sound so easy," she sighed. "That's the optimism of youth."

"So now, all of a sudden, you are old?"

I got a dark look for that one, but she sat up straight. "No," she insisted. "But it's complicated. Dave wanted me to live with him. I wouldn't do that, you'll remember."

"Okay," I said, frowning. "I'm supposed to ask you why ... right?"

"I can't just live with a man. It's immoral."

"Forgive me, but I think we passed 'immoral' quite a while ago. Besides, people live together all the time these days."

"Not in Granite City," she said. "In Granite City you'd better be married if you're living together."

"So come to Arkansas and we'll figure out a way to get married," I blurted.

Suddenly I had to sit down. I had not come there with the intention of proposing marriage. It just popped out. It was crazy, because in those few seconds I knew how she felt, because as soon as that popped out, I was instantly intimately aware of the age difference she had just mentioned. Fucking an older woman, especially your aunt, was one thing. Marrying her was, of course, something else.

Her response brought me out of my inhibited condition.

"You're sweet, Bobby, but that's just ridiculous."

I knew she was right. Even if, by some miracle, Arkansas law allowed an nephew to get married to his aunt, our family would never allow it. They'd probably try to have one or maybe even both of us committed if it was even suggested. Apparently she took my silence as me trying to think up some argument.

"Bobby, we have almost nothing in common," she said, trying to make it sound soothing.

"We have my whole life in common," I argued. "We have the time we've spent together in common. We have a baby in common. We have love in common. And no, I don't guess that every time I want to listen to the Black Eyed Peas that you'll fall all over yourself to listen with me, but I know we can find things to do together that we'll both be interested in."

What she said next showed she was as hardheaded as my mother. Maybe that was why they were such good friends.

"Bobby, honey, I can't let you throw away your future just because I was stupid enough to have unprotected sex."

I moved beyond bitter then, and into being honestly angry. "And I can't let you do something stupid and throw away our future, just because you're an adult and have bought into that crap about who can be with who, and who can't. This is America, Aunt Connie! We should be able to do what we want to!" I stopped, as something that felt like lead filled my stomach. "Unless you don't want to live together.

"I do want to!" she yelled. She calmed immediately. Maybe she was afraid Judy would hear her yelling. But she went on. "You have no idea how much I want to. I shouldn't, but I do. But it's just not that easy, sweetheart."

"So you'd rather raise a baby alone, in a town where single mothers are gossiped about constantly, and you might even lose your job," I said. "Maybe I don't want to marry you after all," I snapped. "If you're that hardheaded, and we were married, I'd have to spank you twice a day."

I might have left. I was ready to walk out. I was furious.

But she laughed.

And when she laughed, I snapped.

Aunt Connie was wearing a skirt and blouse when we arrived. And I had developed some muscle, from working with all those water softener tanks. So when I grabbed her and pulled her down over my lap, there wasn't much she could do besides squeal in outrage as I flipped her skirt up to expose yellow nylon panties. I had already slapped those gorgeous cheeks three times before her brain caught up with what was happening to her and she started yelling.

Judy, who had been sitting on the porch steps, heard the ruckus and came back in. She froze in the doorway as I laid two more spanks on my recalcitrant girlfriend - one on each cheek - and just as Aunt Connie recovered enough from her surprise to start fighting.

And cursing. Which, by the way, she was really quite good at. I was surprised - nay - astonished!

The next thing I knew Judy had my wrist in both of her hands. She'd moved around all those water softener tanks herself, before I came along, and I was pretty astonished at her strength too.

She yelled at me to stop and Aunt Connie rolled off of my lap and landed in a heap on the floor at my feet. She was so full of outrage she could only splutter. Of course I was still mad too, not to mention a little turned on from spanking her. Go figure. And of course I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"And I'll do it again the next time you get so stubborn!" I yelled.

"Come on, Bob," said Judy, pulling at my wrist. "Let's just go."

"Wait!" yelled Aunt Connie, as she struggled to pull her skirt down and get up off the floor. Her hair was all mussed, and her face was flushed. The last time I'd seen her like that it was from above as I rammed my prick home and spilled my seed in her belly. Maybe the seed that had made her pregnant.

"We'll just leave," said Judy. "You both had your say. No real harm done. Let's just let bygones be bygones, okay?"

"This will only take a second," said Aunt Connie, whose face was calm now. She looked almost dignified, other than the fact that her hair was flying around. She stepped up to face me, invading my personal space. She put her face just inches from mine.

"If you ever spank me like that again," she said calmly, "without my permission," she added, touching me with the tips of her breasts, "I'll cut your balls off while you sleep. Got that, Champ?"

I actually started to answer her, but she put her arms around me and kissed me long and hard. When she broke it, she leaned back.

"Maggie is going to just kill me," she sighed. She looked over at Judy. "Maggie is his mother. We're ... best friends."

"Not any more," said Judy.

There had been minimal conversation after that. I was so shell-shocked that Aunt Connie had to get in my face and actually say, "Yes, I'll come live with you. But we need to do a lot of talking and planning first." Then I was a basket case, so she told me to go home and she'd come see me the next Saturday and we could talk it all out.

On the way back to Clinton, Judy only asked me one question.

"You're sure you've thought this through?"

I answered truthfully.

"Probably not. But I know I love her, and I know she loves me, and that's a heck of a good start."

"For what it's worth," said Judy, staring through the windshield. "I like her a lot more now than I used to."

"Why?" I asked.

"It's a girl thing," she said carelessly. "You wouldn't understand."

When Aunt Connie came to see me that Saturday, the first thing she did was kiss me. Then she pushed me away.

"I want nothing more than to get naked with you, just like we always have. But not now. Later. We have to talk first."

And talk we did. We spent hours, sitting across the table from each other, sipping on Cokes and talking about everything under the sun, including what to tell my parents when the time came, because they were going to find out, one way or another. Our story that she was just getting away from people who were judging her might fly, but sooner or later they were going to figure out there was more going on between us than her just living with me until she could find another job and her own place and all that. At some point she asked if I was hungry, and when I said I was, she got up and came to pull me back from the table. Then she straddled me and sat on my lap and kissed me for ten minutes. I had made out with girls on dates in the past, but this was different. In fact, there was no comparison.

She leaned back and pulled her T-shirt over her head. She was braless, which I was shocked to see because I hadn't even noticed! She wanted nipple love, and I was only too happy to give it to her. Eventually we ended up naked, me still sitting on that chair, and her still straddling me. But now she was impaled on my stiff prick, moving back and forth while we made out some more.

Then she leaned back again and her pussy muscles started squeezing and then relaxing. It was so crazy. Her pussy felt alive!

"You made me pregnant," she said, staring into my eyes.

"I know," I said.

"When I told you I was dating another man, and couldn't come see you any more ... did you believe me?"

"Yes."

"It wasn't a lie. I did go out with some men I met on the dating website."

"Okay," I said.

"I had to have some kind of story to tell when your mother found out I was pregnant."

"I know."

"Most guys would ask me if I was sure it was their baby," she said.

"I'm not most guys," I said.

"You never doubted me?"

"You never gave me reason to doubt you."

"It's against all the rules, Bobby, but you make it impossible not to love you," she said, her pussy still working on my prick. "You don't play fair. I can't even get mad at you for knocking me up."

"I always heard that all is fair in love and war," I said back.

She stared at me for half a minute. I just enjoyed what she was doing to my penis. "When did you grow up?" she asked.

"When you taught me to be a man," I said. "If you don't stop what you're doing, I'm going to make a little brother for our daughter."

"What do you think I'm trying to do here?" she asked. "I want you to make me pregnant at least three times, and we have to hurry, because I'm running out of time."

"Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that," I groaned.

And then I spurted in her while we made out some more.

There was really no delicate way of approaching my parents. She didn't want me to go with her to do it. She thought she could establish the charade that she wasn't going to marry any of the men she'd dated and and tell them that the only person who hadn't judged her was me, and that she had accepted my offer to let her stay with me until she could find a new job and her own place. But I knew my mother would find me and yell at me, and I wanted to get that part over with. Besides, I was an adult now, and I wanted my mom to know she couldn't push me around anymore.

I had planned out this fairly elaborate speech about how I was starting a career, and how Aunt Connie needed a fresh start, too, and how it was really my duty to help her out, and how I had the room in my new place, and how this was really not that big a deal. I had practiced this speech at least a dozen times, changing the inflection here, choosing a better word there.

And when we went in the front door together and found them in their customary place in the living room, deciding what to watch on TV that night, it all vanished from my head. Do not ask me why, but this is what I believe I said:

"We didn't plan this, but Aunt Connie and I fell in love. It's my baby and we're going to raise it together!"

Aunt Connie actually groaned. But it was my mother's reaction that really amazed me. She shot up off the couch like she'd been electrocuted.

"Oh no it's not your baby!" she yelled. "It can't be your baby, because I'm not old enough to be a grandmother!" Then she froze and her face twisted. "Did you say it's your? baby?"

It was very noisy for a while, with a whole lot of yelling, mostly by my mother. She demanded to know how "this" had happened, when it could have happened. And you can't answer those kinds of questions without imparting some kind of believable information. Aunt Connie couldn't just admit she'd seduced me, so she spun it a bit. She said it had happened while I was taking the pictures, and that it wasn't planned, and it had just happened, that first time. It wasn't until it became clear just how long our relationship had been going on that my mother looked at me and said, "But she's your aunt! You told me she was old and wrinkled!"

My dad snorted, and all three of us looked at him.

"Sorry," he said.

"What's so funny?" asked my mother. Her voice sounded dangerous.

"Nothing," he said.

My mom was having none of that and she badgered him until he finally admitted, "Okay. Hold it. Just go look in a mirror, honey. Both of you go stand in front of a mirror and just look. You're both babes. You've always been babes. I just couldn't believe he'd say that, or that if he did, you bought it."

"Well that's no excuse to do something like that!" barked Mom.

The bottom line was that Mom wasn't ready to accept the relationship. I don't think she was ready to accept that we'd even want to have the relationship. But facts were facts, and the truth was that the only real decision she could make about all this was whether or not she was going to involve the authorities. Even as mad as she was, she knew she'd lose us both if she did that. And I guess that was even worse than thinking about what we had done.

I had never see my mother drink hard liquor before that night. She went and got Dad's bottle of Wild Turkey and poured herself two or three ounces in a drinking glass. She knocked it back in one double gulp. Her eyes teared up and she coughed, but she calmed down.

Dad took that opportunity to ask me about my new job. I think he was just making talk to give my mom time to think things over. After I told him all the details except how many vacation days I'd have, which I didn't know yet, he said, "Damn. I wish I could have gotten started with a deal like that."

Mom suddenly looked up, at Aunt Connie, with a stricken look on her face.

"You're moving to Arkansas?"

Then there was all the crying and Aunt Connie and my mother were hugging. It was fascinating to see my mother at war with herself. At one point she moaned about how all those times she'd told Aunt Connie she needed to settle down and make some man happy, it wasn't me she was talking about. A minute later she asked if she was going to get to coach Aunt Connie when she went into labor. Pretty soon Aunt Connie moaned that she just wanted to be happy and that I made her happy and she didn't plan it that way but she couldn't help falling in love with me. Mom insisted that was impossible for all the usual reasons and Aunt Connie said nobody in Arkansas would know we were related. It pretty much went like that for two more hours until they were both just exhausted and couldn't take it any more.

And through it all, the only thing Dad said to me was, "It's going to be a lot harder than you think, son. When you feel like throwing something at her, come talk to me first, okay?"

When my father and I went to Connie's house to pack up her stuff, there was a homemade sign in the front yard that said, "See the cougar - 25 cents." I think he already understood the concept of me falling in love with his sister-in-law, but that sign completed his acceptance of it.

Six months later I stood before the Justice of the Peace with my bride-to-be. We decided not to put my parents in the awkward position of witnessing our crime as we presented ourselves as unrelated persons. Nobody actually asked us any questions, though, and in short order both sisters had the last name again.

Before we went in there Aunt Connie stopped me.

"You know, if we do this, there will be no turning back," she said. "When I say 'til death do us part, I'm going to mean it."

"I don't want to turn back. I want to move forward."

So it was just the two of us as we got married. Well ... three of us, if you include the bulge that kept me from being able to hug my wife close when the Justice of the Peace said I could kiss her.

And then we went out to eat, acting normal as pie, and went back to the house, where Mom and Aunt Connie disappeared into the nursery to ooh and aah about everything and cry and giggle and all that. Dad gave me a bottle of Scotch as a housewarming present. Then he took it back, opened it, and poured an inch in one glass.

"You can have a drink in a few years," he said, grinning. "And since your lovely wife is so obviously unable to imbibe, I'll just take this back home with me so neither of you is tempted."

We were watching a baseball game on TV when he looked over at me.

"I've known that woman a long time," he said. "As long as I've known your mother. Sometimes I felt like I was married to both of them." His face got dark. "Though not that way." He got darker. "I mean, I never ..."

I held up my hand. "I know. I also know how she affects a man."

He grinned weakly. "She's a good woman, Bobby. I was worried that she'd run over you roughshod, but seeing her with you ... she's like a different person. I don't know what you've done to her, but I feel a lot better about it than I did at first."

"I spanked her," I said.

He gaped at me.

"I spanked her until she agreed to marry me, and told her I'd do it again the next time she got contrary with me."

"You're kidding." His eyes were still wide.

"Nope. Then she said if I ever did it again, she'd cut my balls off."

"Damn!"

"And once we understood each other ... we knew it was going to work out."

"What was going to work out?" asked my wife, as she and my mother came back into the room.

"I was just describing to my father how I bagged my cougar," I said.

"What?" My mother looked outraged.

The cougar just smiled, and ran her hands over her swollen belly.

The End

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