Cool Aunt Trish

"And just where do you think you're going to stay, on this tour of schools? I swear, we're not made of money--"

"Mom! Mom, I know, okay? I just thought Aunt Trish lives up that way..."

Ben's mother was glaring at him now. He kept talking, just, slower.

"...I could visit a few campuses from there..."

Her foot was tapping rapidly.

"...see some of the dorms..."

"I haven't spoken to my sister in over a year, Ben."

"I know, Mom."

"Not since mojito-gate."

"I know."

"So just who is going to arrange this excursion?"

"Well..." The glare intensified. He figured he'd better just spit it out and hope for the best. "I kinda emailed her already and she wrote back and said I should come visit."

"I can't believe you! Going behind my back like that... Well at least I don't have to talk to her this way. Come for a visit. Ha! You know she's barely any older than you?"

"I know, Mom."

"Well, eight years, I suppose. But still. As if she could be responsible enough to take care of you..."

"I am an adult now, Mom. I can take care of myself."

"Of course dear." She shook her head. "You mind her when you're there, you hear me? You may be eighteen but she's still your aunt and you're staying under her roof."

"Yes Mom."

-----

Ben's mom texted her sister that they were there and kicked him out of the car by the sidewalk. At least they were talking again, he thought. A little. He shouldered his backpack as the car pulled away, and walked over to the barred door. He hit the buzzer and heard a familiar voice as the lock clicked open.

"Come on up bud."

That voice brought back a flood of memories. She hadn't been on friendly terms with Mom in some time, but before that, she used to visit constantly. Aunt Trish. She'd always been the cool aunt. In some ways more like a sister than an aunt. She'd been in high school when he was in elementary. In college when he was in jr. high. She was an independent young woman out on her own while he was in high school, and through all these stages, she always had a smile for him, always made him feel included in her more exciting, more adult life.

She was on the third floor and there was no elevator. Ben took the steps a couple at a time and then counted off the doors in the empty corridor until he saw the one he wanted had been left ajar. He nudged it open and went in, slipping his backpack off his shoulder.

"Ha!" she cried, slamming into him. Already off balance because of the backpack, he spiraled down, laughing. Trish tumbled down, too. She was on top of him, just for a second. She had on a halter top, one of those where it looked like a bandana was just tied in front with a couple of strings around the neck and back. So when she fell on him it hardly seemed like she had any top on at all; he felt her breasts bounce against him through the thin fabric draped loosely over them. Then she was pulling him up by one hand, her old familiar grin in place.

"She just dropped you and took off, huh?"

"Yep."

"Figures." She sat cross-legged on the couch. Her long legs were distracting in the cutoff jean shorts she was wearing. Ben blinked and refocused higher up, on her twinkling eyes.

"It's been a while," she said. "You sure are getting big."

"I guess..."

"Wanna watch some Netflix?"

"Yeah sure."

"Netflix and chill," she said with a smirk.

"Heh, yeah, I--"

"I got us some TV dinners," she said, hopping up. The freezer opened and then Ben heard the microwave running for a minute.

"Here you go," she said, handing one off to him.

"Thanks, Aunt Trish."

"You're all grown up now, Ben. You can just call me Trish if you want."

"Okay. Trish." He smiled. "I still like to think of you as my cool aunt, though."

She looked at him for a moment, faintly amused. "That does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Cool Aunt Trish."

Ben forced a chuckle. She was so pretty. He didn't want to let slip what else he thought of her as--his hot aunt. Sitting here now, all alone with her, was kind of stressful. He was trying not to look down at her bare, tanned shoulders with just that flimsy bit of string around her neck. And certainly not the square of thin fabric dangling loosely over her chest, or the mounds created in that fabric by the features of her anatomy underneath. Quite pointy mounds, actually.

He licked his lips, and turned his focus to the tray of food in his lap. Trish sat down close enough for the skin of her thigh to touch his jeans, and ate her frozen dinner next to him while they watched a comedy special. Soon they were both laughing so much their faces hurt and he forgot about the awkwardness he'd been feeling around her. She was just cool Aunt Trish, like old times.

"Let me take these to the kitchen," she said, grabbing his tray before he could object.

As she walked out he again found himself looking at her. From behind she almost appeared to be naked; her slender back was uncovered except by a string tied in the middle, her dark hair hiding the other string around her neck and dangling down her bare back silkily, and her shorts were very short. Wisps of white thread from the cut denim fluttered over the bottoms of her partially exposed ass cheeks as her long legs carried her away. He swallowed, feeling nervous again, and focused his attention on the TV.

He heard water running for a minute. Then a little banging around before she came back in, her breasts bouncing noticeably beneath that barely-there top. She looked like she had no idea she might be having an effect on him. She just flounced back onto the sofa beside him with a little wooden box in her hands and flipped it open on her lap, revealing rolling papers and a plastic baggie full of green plant matter. It had to be weed, he thought.

"Here," she said, casually handing him the bag. "Break some of this up for me."

"Oh, uh, sure," he said, uncertain. Or, certain, that his mom would never approve of this. He didn't really know what he was doing. His fingers fumbled around as he brought out a pungent nugget and started crumbling it, leaning over her lap to let the pieces fall in the box as she fiddled with a rolling paper. His eyes kept straying toward her bare thighs. He felt a drop of sweat roll down his neck.

She glanced at him with a sly smile. "Have you ever done this before, Ben?"

"I--" He looked up, suddenly tongue tied. He didn't want her to think he was still just a kid, after all. "I've smoked a little bit," he said.

"Yeah? One of your friends give you a puff?"

He'd had precisely one drag from the joint his buddy passed around at a party after their graduation. Perceptive, this aunt of his. "I mean, um..."

She laughed softly. "Don't worry bud. I got you." She swept his pile of crumbled herb into her folded paper and deftly rolled it up, licking up and down one side. Ben watched her, fascinated. Something about the way the tip of her tongue slid along the edge was just so appealing to watch. Then she held it between her lips and got it lit with a couple of draws before holding it out to him.

Her fingers touched his when he took it from her. He just held it for a second. Then he took a drag and handed it back, trying to hold in a cough. Her fingers brushed his again. He watched as her lips pursed around the joint. His scalp felt warm and tingly.

"You're doing great. Here you go." She held it out, a tendril of smoke rising from one end.

"Thanks, you too," he said. Stupid, he thought; why'd he blurt that out. But she just smiled at him. She leaned toward him and her empty hand rested on his knee. He grinned and took the joint, feeling a dumb thrill when she touched his fingertips once more. In fact he could have sworn she lightly stroked his finger as she made the handoff.

"What do you think about the place?" she asked, as he filled his lungs.

"It's--" He coughed out a cloud of smoke, doubling over, until his throat felt raw. "It's rad," he croaked. "Really cool."

She giggled, smacking him on the back. "You like it that much, do you?"

By the time he got his breath back she'd taken one last hit and left the butt smoldering in a lid on the table. Ben's eyes were feeling heavy, now. And that warm tingling spread from his scalp down over his face and neck. He noticed her watching him with a little smile as his head nodded up and down. No way was he going to pass out immediately after his first time sharing a joint with his cool Aunt Trish.

He wasn't really following the comedy routine anymore, but tried to focus on it and force a laugh here and there. She was laughing too, wiping water from her eyes a few times even, but she kept glancing his way. His eyes kept sliding off the TV; he could barely manage to keep them both pointed at one thing. He felt her hand rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder as they slowly, inexorably fell shut.

---

There was a green tapestry hanging on the wall behind the couch. Ben was watching it for a while, moving subtly in the nearly still air, before he quite realized what he was looking at. Morning light came in through the window. He shifted, under his cover. He felt the blanket and the couch all along the length of his body.

He was naked.

He ran his hands over his bare skin, looking around. There. His clothes were draped over the armrest by his feet. Was Trish up? His hand bumped into his morning erection and he groaned softly, trying to see if she was around. He pushed it between his legs until it softened enough to hang downward.

The coast seemed clear so he quickly sat up and tugged on his underwear and pants, forcing his cock awkwardly into them. He was just getting them buttoned up when the bedroom door opened, before he could get to his shirt.

"Morning sleepy head," Aunt Trish said cheerfully. She strolled in casually, bustling around the room wearing a t-shirt and little white panties. Ben's mouth fell open for a second.

"Uh--"

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, forcing his eyes off of her ass, where the thin material of her panties ran up her perky cheeks and the elastic made shallow furrows in her skin, and her thighs moved and flexed as she walked around, picking up a few things.

"Oh, this?" she asked, looking down at herself with a chuckle. She was facing him. There was a small cleft in the fabric stretched over her vagina, where it hugged the mounds of her pussy lips. He tore his gaze away from that and found her face looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come on, it's not like you're sleeping in all your clothes." She waved at his bare chest.

"Wha--" he sputtered, "I didn't--" He pointed at her. "You--"

She laughed. "Yeah, I did it. I put you to bed plenty of times when you were little, why shouldn't I do it now when you pass out, you poor baby?"

"Aunt Trish! I'm..."

"All grown up now?"

He nodded miserably.

"Aww I'm just kidding buddy," she said with a grin, sitting down by him. "I know you are. That's why I knew you didn't need any dumb pajamas or anything." She had an arm around his shoulders. It was warm against his skin. She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. "A man doesn't need that kind of shit, right?"

He shook his head. "No, of course not."

"Good. Coffee?" she asked, getting up.

"Um, yeah," he answered. He'd had it a few times before. His eyes drifted back down toward her petite panty-clad bottom as she went into the kitchen, where he could still see her fiddling with the coffee maker. She loaded a K-cup and stood with one hip cocked as she waited for the mug to fill. Ben was still watching her when she turned around, and quickly forced his eyes up to her face.

"Creamer?"

He nodded, and couldn't help but keep watching as she got some out, bending over just a little, it seemed, as she poured it in his cup, and then brought it over to him. He licked his lips. She was serving him, in her tight little shirt and her tiny white panties.

Ben took the warm coffee, feeling very conflicted about the glances he was continuing to steal of her barely covered pussy, her breasts swinging under the soft, thin fabric of her nightshirt, as she leaned over to hand it to him. His cock had been a bit firm when he'd forced it down into his pants earlier; now it was trying to grow harder, bent awkwardly beneath the denim.

"Here you go, big boy," she said with a smile. And, was that a glance down? His erection stiffened even more, pushing out. He saw it make his pants move in his peripheral vision.

"Thanks Au--uh, Trish."

She was already walking back to make her own cup. He couldn't stop staring at her ass. And her long, shapely legs. The small space between the tops of her thighs, where he could see the shape of her labia pushing out through her panties, at times, depending on how she turned. Or her pert little bottom, jiggling slightly as she stepped. The hem of her shirt lifting up above her curvy hips as she reached into a cabinet.

She came back in with her own cup, catching his gaze with a smirk. He jerked his eyes away from her ass, embarrassed. But she just sat by him and put her bare feet up on the edge of the table while she sipped on her coffee. Her naked legs were lightly tanned, her dimpled knees moving against each other a little as she shifted on the seat.

He took a drink. His cock was starting to throb.

"So whatcha doin' today, buddy?" She was looking at him over the rim of her cup.

"I was, uh, gonna visit a couple of schools, take the campus tours..."

"How are you going to get around?"

"Uber, I guess." He took a drink to cover his glance at her chest, where her breasts were stretching her nightshirt out, and her nipples were poking into the thin fabric.

"Mm." Her eyes were steady on him. He felt a thin layer of sweat break out across his scalp. She drank her coffee, her warm hip touching his bare skin above his jeans.

"Hey, you wanna ride?" she asked.

Ben felt almost giddy at the thought of spending all day with her. "That'd, yeah. That'd help a lot, Aunt Trish."

"Trish." She grinned at him, putting a hand on his leg.

"Yeah, right. Trish."

"I'll just go change." She gave his thigh a quick squeeze, tugging on the denim that was so tightly tented over his straining cock, giving him a sudden jolt. "And give you a chance to, uh. Finish getting dressed." She winked at him.

He stared after her as she walked back into her room, cock aching dully in his pants.

---

She went on the tours with him, and looked young enough that everyone they ran into seemed to assume they were both prospective students. Ben couldn't be sure, after all she was always fun, she had always made him feel special. But she seemed flirty. She held his hand on a group walk through campus. She leaned against him sometimes when the group stopped for the guide to talk about a sight. That got his heart thumping in his throat.

She drove him to three schools, and then they had a lunch of burgers and fries in the car, parked under old trees at the last of the campuses, flipping through radio stations and finding something about every song that came on to get them giggling. She threw a fry at him, and soon all the fries were scattered throughout the car.

"You want to cut it short today?" asked Trish, sucking on the straw in her milkshake. "Head back soon?"

"Well, I--"

"We could catch a movie or something."

His breath caught. Like a date, he thought. Not really, of course. Just, it felt kind of like one.

"That sounds fun," he said, trying maybe a little too hard to come off sounding casual about it.

"Well don't let me bother you," she pouted.

"No, yeah," he said quickly, "it sounds great. More than great. I'd love to..."

"Okay!" she chirped, face lighting up.

Soon they were seated in the back of a theater, settling in with their snacks and drinks. "I like the back," she'd insisted. She put the popcorn between Ben's knees, whispering, "Hold on to this for us, okay?"

"Sure, Trish," he said, adjusting in his seat as she got the bucket situated, her hands on the sides brushing the tops of his legs a little. She twisted it back and forth for a second, pushing down, and he felt her hand through his jeans on his upper thigh, so close to his penis that it twitched in response. He gulped, hoping she hadn't noticed that.

"There we are," she said, smiling at him. "Don't have to reach far to share, now." She leaned over, her bare shoulder touching his arm, as she slipped a hand into the tub between his legs.

"Yeah," he agreed, starting to sweat. His cock was slowly getting harder in his underwear. And his legs were held apart by the popcorn so he couldn't do much to control it. He shook his head, just slightly. His cock shouldn't be getting hard for his aunt. His cool, hot Aunt Trish.

"Everything okay?" she asked, turning from the screen. She paused with her hand in the bucket to look at him. He could sense her, inches from his growing erection. He was glad it was so dark in the theater; his cock was lengthening, pushing stiffly into the material of his underpants and jeans. It must be making a bulge there by now.

He felt his erection make contact with the smooth cylinder of the popcorn tub.

"Uh, of course," he said, a bit breathily. He tried to shift away but he was up against the back of the chair. There was nowhere to go.

"Okay, bud," Trish said with a grin, resuming her dig into the popcorn. She accidentally nudged and pushed on the bucket as she grabbed a handful, making it press on the swollen head of his cock, now straining into the space under his jeans up along one leg. He struggled not to groan, instead letting out a quiet, controlled breath as he felt warm pre-cum begin to seep up his shaft and trickle from his opening, onto the skin of one thigh.

I can just focus on the movie, he thought, desperately. It'll go away if I do that.

But every few minutes his sexy aunt would reach in between his legs for some more popcorn, bumping the tub and making his cock pulse and ache in its confinement. He began to lose track of the film, finding himself instead watching her, as well as he could, from the side of his eye, in her white tank top that did nothing to hide her deep cleavage, nor really to obscure the nipples that now pressed out against the cotton in the cold theater. He soon began to just hope for her to reach out again, to hope that she would take her time digging into the bucket, and...

"Aren't you going to have any?" she asked suddenly, glancing over.

"Oh, I, ah--"

"Why don't you just hold onto that drink. Let me take care of this for you." She brought up a piece of popcorn and playfully tapped it on his lips. "Open up," she whispered in his ear, leaning on his shoulder. He could feel her breasts, full and soft, pressing warmly around his arm through her thin top.

He opened his mouth to let her feed him, and his cock throbbed in its denim prison as she placed the popcorn on his tongue, brushing his lower lip with her fingers. He felt terrible, anxiously awaiting every nudge and movement of her hand between his legs as she continued to feed him periodically as the movie went on. Pre-cum ran down his inner thigh in a steady stream, soaking into his jeans. He hoped it wouldn't soak all the way through to smear the bucket, and resolved to be the one to throw it away later. He hoped she wouldn't run out of popcorn and stop.

As it turned out, they'd gotten just about the right amount. The credits had just begun to roll when she reached in for a last bite and her hand instead encountered the side of the empty tub. That thin layer of waxy paper was the only thing between her fingers and his erection, hard and straining against his pants, leaking copiously into the denim. He gasped as quietly as he could manage, as she nudged his cock almost directly through the cardboard.

"Oh, I guess that's it," she said, flashing him a smile, hand still in the bucket. She swiped a finger around the inside, making his erection jump, and a fresh flow of warm pre-cum seep from his opening, before bringing the buttery digit to her mouth. "Mmm," she grinned.