Aunt Edna's Needs Ch. 08

Chapter Eight

I woke, refreshed, managed to sneak out of the bed, pee, and get back without waking her.

I propped my head on my palm and just watched her sleep.

In sleep, she shed years but she was NOT a pretty sleeper. She slept with her mouth open, I suspected her nose was plugged, God knows it had been running enough last night. And she was drooling, thick mucus-laden saliva making a thick puddle under her cheek. She was snoring softly.

I got bored and slipped out of bed, and went to check out the kitchen to see if there were at least coffee makings. And, Praise the Lord, there was.

I set about figuring out how the Mr. Coffee machine worked and making some coffee, being quiet, not wanting to wake her.

The machine worked just fine and the sweet aroma of brewing coffee filled the room.

I went in to check and she was starting to stir so I climbed into bed with her. As her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head from the pillow her hand went automatically to her lip where a string of drool hung. She wiped her lip, looked at her hand, and made that sound best written as "ewwwwwwwww."

I laughed and kissed her.

"You're beautiful," I said.

She rolled her eyes and then rolled her body away from me, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom.

I followed, kissed her as she peed drawing a giggle, wiped her afterward making her laugh, and then walked her into the kitchen and poured coffee.

"Bless you," she said, inhaling the steam from the cup and holding it in both hands like it as Ambrosia.

We sat like that, in companionable silence, sipped coffee, and met each other's eyes from time to time.

"Sooooooooooooooo," I said at last, "ready to be shown off?"

"Honey," she said, "I am as ready as I'll ever be for whatever you have in mind."

I grinned and said, "I'll take that as a yes. So first we shower, then I pick out what you're wearing and we go to breakfast."

I gave her a second and then said, "sound good?"

She just smiled.

"I'm so nervous I'm about to wet," and she giggled and then continued, "well, I was going to say wet my pants but I don't have any on."

"Come on then," I said, standing and holding out my hand.

She took my hand and flashed a grin.

"Want my mouth first?" she said.

"Later, pervert," I said, pulling her toward the shower.

We showered and I worked hard to keep it from getting sexual. The thought did pass through my mind that I might have created a monster.

Clean and dry, I enjoyed fluffing her hair so it was wild and loose and then sitting her at the little desk in the cottage and doing her makeup. I'm actually pretty good with makeup. This time I put it on a little heavier than she wore it. The base was not too much, but the blush and then the eye shadow, in a very bright blue to match what I had in mind for her to wear gave her a moderately slutty look. The eyeliner added a touch of the exotic to her eyes when I put the little points at the outside corners of her eyes, and the mascara filled her lashes out nicely. I darkened her eyebrows, thickening them a bit, and arching them dramatically. When I was done she looked delightful. A bit slutty but very nice.

When I finally allowed her to look into the mirror she gasped.

"God, are you going to rent me out?" she asked.

"Hmmmmm," I said, pulling her hair back to expose her face even more, "you WOULD bring a good price in some markets."

She giggled and said, "I choose to take that as a compliment."

"You should," I said, kissing her very lightly on the forehead, not wanting to mess up my handiwork.

"Now," I said, standing and offering her my hand, "let's get dressed and get something to eat. You have me starving."

"Me?" she said.

"Yes," I said, "you're making me use SO much energy I have to refuel."

I opened her suitcase and handed her the bright sapphire outfit we had bought in Denver.

She looked at it and looked at me, and sort of moaned before she started putting it on.

I grabbed a button-down shirt, shorts, and jeans and put them on, watching as she dressed.

There wasn't much to it, really. The halter top was hardly more than a bra, and the shorts were what she had called "short shorts" when she tried them on. They were certainly that. The beltline was just below her navel. But they were so short in the legs that when she moved her gluteal sulcus, that line where ass meets thigh, peeked out if she bent over at all.

The sandals I handed her were also fresh from the store, platforms of a very light material, it looked like cork, that angled her feet as if she had on about a two and a half-inch heel. They did good things for her legs and for her walk.

I whistled.

There was a full-length mirror on the back of the closet door, something almost obligatory in this tourist town where the point was to see and be seen. She went to it and looked, doing that womanthing, turning to look at her back and ass over her shoulder, striking poses in the mirror, and giggling.

And blushing.

"Davey," she said, "I don't know if I can."

So I went to her and put my hands gently on her shoulders, bare and inviting, and turned her to face the mirror.

"I am many things," I said, "but I am not a rapist. I won't force you, but I will say that you look absolutely stunning."

And she did. I brushed my fingertips along the line of downy hair between her breasts and down her belly, to where it started spreading before disappearing under the shorts.

"Yes," I said, my fingertips now tracing the thick hair of her armpits down to where it thinned on her sides, "everybody will be looking. And I will be holding your hand, or my hand will be light on the small of your back, and I will be proud to be possessive and show the world how sexy my girl is."

"Am I your girl?" she asked.

"You are," I said, my hands now running down her arms, the palms feeling the very light hair of her upper arms and then the heavier hair of her forearms, "and I want to show you off."

She was staring at the mirror, watching my hands, and I saw her eyes getting red.

"If you cry and mess up my work breakfast will be delayed while I turn you over my knee," I said.

And that seemed to break the tension.

She giggled and turned and kissed me lightly on the forehead, leaving the scarlet lipstick intact.

"Okay, silly boy," she said, "put your hairy girlfriend on display."

The rental house was on the outskirts of town, so we took the car downtown, found a parking spot, and went in search of breakfast.

We had slept late and then taken our time getting ready so it was after 10 when we started walking.

I watched her closely. For the first few steps, she was kind of huddled into herself, obviously making herself smaller and, presumably, less noticeable.

I slapped her ass, making her yelp and making a few passersby look.

"Davey," she said.

"Stop it," I said.

"If you want to change into your granny outfit say the word and we'll head back to the house," I said, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, holding both of her hands, "but quit acting like you're ashamed of yourself. You shouldn't be. You're stunning."

A passerby, a guy I guessed in his 40s and that I knew at first look was ex-military, or maybe active duty for that matter, stopped and touched her arm, very gently, and asked, "everything okay here ma'am?"

The way he said it made it clear if she said "no" I would have a fight on my hands.

She straightened and met his eyes.

"We're fine, dear," she said, "thank you for asking but I'm just being silly and my boyfriend here," and she grinned as she gestured at me, "just reminded me."

He looked at her, looked at me, and said, "are you sure."

She smiled, that winning smile that shed the years, and took my arm in that two-handed way women use to demonstrate their possessiveness, "we're fine, dear, but thank you again."

He nodded at her, scowled at me, and said, "okay then," and walked on.

She turned to me, met my eyes, and said, "I'm sorry, baby. Come on, show me off and feed me."

This time she took my hand and I thought there was plenty of bounce in her step as we started down the street. The first restaurant we came to was a place with "Mary's Place" on the front window. We went in and saw empty tables so waited to be seated.

When we sat and had coffee on the way I said, softly across the table, "if you'll look around the room, slowly, not being obvious about it, you'll see the men looking at you and the women looking irritated. God, I LOVE being with the sexiest girl in the room."

She went to the other extreme, yawning and stretching, either deliberately or inadvertently, I'm not sure which, showing off the thick hair of her armpits as she stretched, and slowly rotated her head on her neck, looking around.

"Davey," she said, leaning close and her voice low, "is it wrong that I'm loving this?"

I laughed and covered her hands with mine and said, simply, "no."

She giggled.

We ordered big breakfasts, the "gravy bowl" for me, waffles, eggs, and sausage for her.

As we ate, just making small talk, I grinned as a man four tables away caught my eye and flashed a thumbs up. His wife, a pretty matron with silver hair and dark eyes, looked over her shoulder, saw who he had made the gesture to, and turned back, her finger waving.

"I think you just caused a domestic dispute," I said.

"What?" she said.

"Behind you, three tables away, the husband thinks your hot, the wife is pissed," I said.

She made no pretense of it, just turned around to look and then turned back.

She was blushing.

I could smell her.

I touched her hands again and told her, "I can smell you. When we stand up is there going to be a dark wet spot between your legs?"

"If there is," she said, "would that be so bad?"

I laughed and said, "you are SUCH a slut."

She giggled and said, "I am what you made me."

We finished breakfast and lingered over a second cup of coffee.

"Ready to check out downtown?" I asked.

"As soon as I go to the bathroom," she said.

We stood and I walked her back to the bathrooms, stopped to take a leak myself, and then went to the cash register and paid. I left a good tip.

When she walked to me, she was positively strutting.

And yes, there was that dark spot between her legs.

And yes, all eyes were on her.

I didn't say anything, just lightly brushed the line of hair down her spine as we left and then took her hand and we started window shopping.

Which wasn't as much fun as you might think. Oh, I enjoyed showing her off, but when you've been in one tourist-oriented downtown you've pretty much been in them all and I had been in plenty.

In one little boutique though, she saw an old-fashioned wicker picnic basket on a top shelf and gave everybody in the place an interesting show as she got it down.

I was interested to note that she did NOT just ask me to get it down.

Rather, she had to stretch up to reach it, showing off the hair under her arms as well as drawing the short shorts high enough that the thick line of hair outlining her ass was displayed as well.

When she handed me the basket I said, "nice show."

"I thought you'd like it," she said, giggling.

"Slut," I said very softly.

"Yours," she replied with another giggle.

She found a checkered table cloth, heavy, designed for picnics, and a kit of picnic silverware and bought the package.

"Now," she said, "let's find a store. I want to take you on a picnic."

We found a Safeway store on the main drag of town and went in.

She was obviously past any reluctance. She was strutting and picking things off of shelves as we worked our way through the store. Then, at the checkout, she struck up a conversation with the checkout girl, a young woman, younger than me, with several tattoos in evidence.

"Can I ask you something, girl to girl?" Aunt Edna asked.

The checkout girl looked her up and down and said, "sure."

"Is there someplace around here where I can take this beautiful young man for a naked picnic?" she asked.

The girl's eyes got big momentarily but she recovered nicely.

"Wellllllllll," she said, "not that I ever did such a thing you understand," and they both giggled, "but if you go......"

And she gave a complicated series of directions.

Edna turned to me and did the two hands on the arm thing and said, "got that, sweety?"

I repeated the directions back and the checkout girl nodded.

"I guess I do," I said.

"Liquor store," Edna said when we got back to the car.

At the liquor store, she said, "six-pack of Coors and pint of Jim Beam" before moving to the trunk and transferring groceries to the picnic basket.

I filled her order and was back in five minutes.

"Ice too," she said, so I went back and got a bag of ice.

"Now," she said, as we got back in the car, "follow my new best friend Carla's instructions."

So I headed back up Highway 285 and started looking for landmarks.

It was a pretty day so I didn't mind this little side trip. I got off of the highway onto a county road then to another county road then to a dirt track through a fence (I was careful to shut the fence behind me) for another two miles.

And there it was and the girl had been right. This was a truly beautiful place. The Collegiate Peaks rose over 14,000 feet off in the distance, a classic alpine sawtooth picture. In this little valley, the wildflowers were all colors. The wind whispered softly and a stand of Aspen trees rattled softly.

We just sat and looked for a couple of minutes.

"Stay put," she said and got out of the car.

I watched her take off her clothes and then toss them into the car. She looked like a damn wood nymph when she walked a few paces with the picnic basket and then spread the checkerboard table cloth and lay the small pillow from the picnic kit.

She came back to the car and offered her hand so I got out, not sure what to expect. It hit me that this was the first time since we had been together that she was taking charge.

I liked it.

She undressed me, slowly, taking her time, kissing skin as she revealed it. First, my shirt, then my shoes and socks, each foot taken into her lap as she was on her knees before me, then my belt and zipper and jeans and finally my shorts until I stood naked.

She stood and walked me to the cloth and had me lay back with my head on the little pillow.

She retrieved a blindfold from I don't know where and had me lift my head while she covered my eyes.

I heard a match strike and then smelled that pleasant burning leaves smell of pot.

I heard her hiss a hit and then felt the joint touch my lips.

Two more hits and I had a very pleasant buzz on. It's VERY good pot.

Something cold touched my lips and when I opened them she put a slice of tart apple in my mouth.

It was an amazing sensation, laying back, sight taken from me, relying on my other senses as she fed me, spicy sausage or cheese or a sip of wine or a wedge of orange.

She took my hand and guided it until it was between her legs.

"What did you call it," she asked, it turned out rhetorically, "my 'core?'"

She grunted and I felt that wonderful warmth and slickness as her firm cervix touched my palm.

She put another bite of apple in my mouth and as I chewed she said, "hold my core in your hand, baby," and grunted again and more of her emerged. And I held it. It was firm and warm and damp and a little slick. I squeezed gently, and she hissed "yessssssssss."

I don't think you can call what I did masturbating her but I kept kind of squeezing and tugging very gently. I was very much afraid of hurting her but she was clearly enjoying this.

She didn't stop feeding me as she came, and she came like a fountain, her love nectar coating my hand. Her soft cry was accompanied by another chunk of cheese.

And I held her, supporting her, afraid that if I didn't she'd be hurt by the weight outside of her body.

Suddenly she gasped and I felt her retract, disappearing as if by magic.

She was covering my face then, with wet kisses, her breath in harsh little gasps.

"What have you done to me?" she asked.

I chuckled and said, "Reminded you that you're a woman is all."

I heard the match strike and smelled pot burning again, then the hiss of her hit and felt the joint in my lips.

A couple of hits and I was high, not just buzzed but high.

A drink of wine and her lips nuzzling my ear.

"I want your mouth," she said, and, again, I liked that there was no hesitancy at all in her voice.

"I want you to have it," I said, missing with a kiss as she moved away.

I could hear and smell and feel as she moved around. I could picture her moving around until her knees were beside my ribs, my arms trapped between her thighs and calves as she leaned back, her womanscent stronger as she slowly lowered herself, the first sticky womannectar on my lips and the brush of wet hair, and then the weight as she settled onto me, her full lips stretched, covering my mouth and nose, her weight holding me helpless.

My tongue probed and found her cervix right there. She shuddered as my tongue touched the tiny opening to her core.

I couldn't breathe, and I didn't care. I reached up and her fingers entwined in mine as she leaned forward, her weight holding me helpless as her nectar soaked my face.

My body started to panic, lacking oxygen and she lifted enough to allow me a gasped breath before settling back down.

Time stopped. I was helpless and so goddam excited it was like nothing I had ever imagined.

She would grunt and prolapse and rub her uterus, hanging free, over my face, allowing me some breaths, and then she would retrieve it, gaining control over her body with practice, and settle onto my face again.

At some point I came, untouched, my semen first pumping almost to my chin and then just flowing, making a hot puddle on my belly, and I barely noticed as I nursed at her cervix and drank her pleasure.

I have no idea how long that lasted. Time had stopped. My world was reduced to her pussy and my mouth. Even my ejaculation was unimportant. The waves of her orgasm as she finally shed the last vestiges of inhibition were enough for me.

With a final scream that actually echoed in the beautiful valley, she came and her control failed her. The taste of urine joined the salty taste of her nectar and she screamed again, this time it was "oh God, Davey, I'm sorry."

She moved quickly, well, as quickly as possible given the way our bodies were entwined in each other and turned covering my mouth with kisses.

"I'm sorry," she said, "oh God, Davey, I'm sorry."

I laughed and pulled her to me, stroking her back, quieting her.

"It's okay," I said, kissing her, "it's okay."

I held her and stroked her and talked to her, calming her, until she got herself under control.

"Edna," I said when she calmed, "I told you, good sex, and that was GREAT sex that we just did, is often messy but never dirty. Don't apologize. I like," and I stopped and chuckled before I went on, "no, I LOVED that you lost some of your control. It's GOOD that you let yourself do that."

"But," she started and I stopped her with a kiss.

"No buts," I said, "I enjoyed everything we just did. ALL of it."

"Davey, I," she started, but again I stopped her.

"Edna, stop it," I said, "you peed a little, and I tasted it. It's not the end of the world."

I grinned and kissed her.

"I kind of liked it," I added.

She pulled my blindfold off and I closed my eyes in the bright day.

"God," she said and kissed me.

I blinked hard for several seconds, letting my eyes adjust, while she fed me some more bits of apple and cheese and bread.

When I had my eyes adjusted and was confident in my balance, I rocked back and then rolled up to my feet.

I offered my hand and helped her stand. She looked up at me, obviously curious, but didn't say anything.