A Nephew's Mistletoe Magic

"Childhood fantasy?" I said in a questioning tone, "and no, I'm not mad."

He nodded, "yeah, you don't know how many times I watched you in the kitchen at Thanksgiving or Christmas, bending over, reaching for things. I still remember the first time your dress rode up and I saw the tops of your stockings."

He blushed and looked away.

"You do, do you?" regaining my own composure, my curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, I had to sneak off to the bathroom."

"Well, I think I need to sneak off to the bathroom now. I'll be right back."

I headed for the shower, cleaning myself off again, then put on a new, if less sexy nightgown and returned to the kitchen. Oliver was sitting at the bar, on his phone.

"Telling all your friends about your conquest?"

He blushed again, "God no...I would never."

I laughed, "I didn't think you would, probably not much street cred banging some old lady anyway."

"I don't care about that," he hesitated, considering what he had just said, "I mean, you aren't an old lady, you're, you're beautiful, I've always thought that and still do, and not like MILF beautiful, truly beautiful."

I cut him off before he tied himself in a rhetorical knot, "OK, OK, but I do have a serious question."

"What?"

"What's your end game here? You nailed your Aunt, your childhood fantasy is fulfilled, time to move on? Or what?"

He stared at me for a minute, collecting his thoughts.

"I guess I don't know, I mean, I was hoping for a kiss, at least but, the rest, well I didn't really have a plan past that point. But no, I don't think I want this to be a one-night thing. I mean, unless that's what you want. I mean, I'd understand and all."

I leaned back against the island, trying to stay focused and not to think about the last time I'd been leaning against the island. I'd been so busy trying to figure out what he was after I hadn't really thought about what I'd wanted in all this.

"Well, for now at least, I don't think I want this to be a one-night stand. I've never had one of those, and this doesn't seem to be the place to start."

"Fair enough."

"Let's have breakfast."

I put the cookie dough in the fridge and whipped up some bacon and eggs.

We were sitting at the table eating and I realized Oliver was sort of staring at me between bites.

"What's on your mind?" I enquired.

"Just really glad you don't do one-night stands. I mean if that's someone's thing I'm not judging and all, but I'm glad I'm not going to be one."

"Yeah, it's not really my style."

He took another bite of his eggs and was obviously deep in thought, he swallowed then asked, "So, if you don't mind me asking, what is your style?"

It was my turn to think.

"I'm not sure if I have a style, this is all kind of new to me."

He looked at me, obviously not following.

I took a deep breath, figuring honesty was the best policy I dove in headfirst.

"Well, you're the second man I've been with, so I don't exactly have a wealth of experience."

He was silent for a moment then it burst out, "really?"

"Yeah, really. I met your Uncle Dale in high school when we were both 16, we got married at 19, had Tina when I was 21. I was never unfaithful, we got divorced last year and...well... I have mostly been focused on getting my life back together."

He nodded, considering what I'd said.

"I guess I never really thought about it, I mean I knew you two were high school sweethearts and all, but I guess I never considered what that might mean."

We both ate a little more breakfast, then I broke the silence.

"So, what about you, what's your style? Other than fantasizing about your Aunts?"

He swallowed a mouthful of eggs, "Well, Aunt, singular, it was always just you."

"Really?" I enquired, his Aunt Terry was a very attractive woman, I'd have thought she would have at least been included, if not his first choice.

"Really," as if reading my mind he continued, "Aunt Terry is pretty hot, that really feels weird to say out loud, but she was never my type I guess."

"Your type?" I pressed.

He laughed a bit nervously, "Yeah, my type, you."

"I'm not sure what that really means."

He stirred the remnants of his eggs with his fork for a minute then looked up.

"I guess the most obvious thing first, your breasts." He looked back down, blushing.

"Got it, your type is women with big boobs?" I guess I couldn't blame the kid, at least he was honest, and 30E breasts weren't exactly a dime a dozen absent a good plastic surgeon.

"Yes, but, no, I mean not just that."

"It's ok, I'm not mad or anything, so what else is your type?"

"How you dress, it's always sexy but not..." he struggled to find the right word for a moment, "it's elegant sexy. Like, you don't show a lot, but you show just the right amount, in just the right way. That dress last night. It was like straight up June Cleaver, but on you, the way it fit...then what was under it. God, I'd wondered about that for years, I'd contemplated sneaking into your bedroom so many times... and to find out what you had on under it was just the kind of thing I'd dreamed it was..."

He looked back down at his plate for a moment, then continued, "that probably sounds really stupid, and kind of embarrassing."

"No, not at all, it's actually very flattering," I responded, not having the heart to tell him that had he seen under my dress just about any other time it would have been some incredibly boring stuff.

Reassured, he pressed on, "yeah like the girls my age, it seems when they want to be sexy it usually turns into something else. Like it's sort of nasty almost, like how much skin can we show."

"Nasty?" I asked, thinking back to this morning, and the words I'd said, it was my turn to be nervous and a bit embarrassed, "so, this morning when I started to..."

Oliver quickly interrupted, a huge smile on his face, "this morning was fucking amazing. I mean freaking amazing, especially when you started," he paused for a moment, "saying those things. It was just incredible. I've never been so turned on; I've never been with someone who was so...vocal, and I really like it."

I relaxed, more relieved than I thought I would be, and also laughing to myself at the incongruity of Oliver being able to fuck me, but not say fuck in front of me. Old habits I supposed.

"Since we are being honest, I've never actually been that vocal before, I've never had anyone do that kind of thing to me before."

"But you liked it?" a bit of hesitancy in his voice.

I looked him dead in the eyes, "I loved it, it was incredible."

"So, you'd like to do something like that again?"

I nodded slowly, "yes, I think I would."

He smiled back at me, "cool".

I got up and cleared the table, with Oliver's help. He glanced at the clock on the microwave, it was almost 11:00 o'clock.

"I've got to go; I'm supposed to meet my Dad at noon."

"Well, you'd better go get dressed then."

He found his shirt on the floor and hurried back to the bedroom. I straightened up the kitchen a bit more, located my bra and headed back myself. He was dressed when I got there, just tying his shoes.

I picked my phone off the nightstand, and did a quick search.

"Do you have plans for tomorrow?" I asked.

"Not really."

"Are you still a Dolphins fan?"

"Of course!"

"Want to come over and watch the game with me? They play at 1."

"I'd really like that."

"Me too."

We walked down the hall together and he gave me a quick kiss before stepping outside.

"See you tomorrow" he called out as he went down the sidewalk to his truck.

I closed the door behind him, sat down on the couch, and wondered what the hell I was doing.