Me and Danny Ch. 01

Martin nodded. "That's a good idea. But I feel like we need to keep an eye on him. I don't want this game thing to get outta hand. He's young, and I don't want him to get too wrapped up in this and lose years chasing a dream."

Martin is such a good dad/uncle. This is why I love this man. He's so protective over his family.

Kissing him on the lips, I said, "Let me handle Danny. I'll take care of him."

That seemed to relax him. He nodded and kissed me back before saying, "Okay. I'll back off. You've always had a special relationship with him. He'll probably be more comfortable opening up to you, anyway."

It took everything I had to keep my face neutral when he said that. The irony of his observation was kind of funny. He had no idea how "special" my relationship with Danny was, and how I was really the one "opening up".

If he only knew.

***

Thanksgiving was upon us. My students were excited about having a few days off, as was I. Of course, I had to give a reading assignment over the break, which got me some groans.

That Wednesday, I was driving home from work. My mind was pondering the check list of things I had to do. Since Martin and I had the biggest house out of our families, we usually hosted Thanksgiving at our home.

We normally have a large turnout. My mom lives within five miles of us at a nice retirement community. My dad died when I was in my teens, so it's just her. Along with that, Martin's parents, his siblings, and their children join.

So, a lot of food must be cooked.

Luckily, me and my mom have a tradition. She comes over the night before Thanksgiving and helps me cook. She always ends up spending the night because we get fairly drunk on wine as we laugh, talk and gossip over the hot stove.

And while we're working our asses off to prepare this feast, what are the men in my family doing? Playing on the computer. Talking to girlfriends. Secretly working from home even though he promised not to.

Yes, I know my fellow feminists. I know.

Still, as much of a pain in the ass as this is, there comes a certain fulfillment the next day as you sit your exhausted ass down and watch the satisfied smiles around you enjoy the food YOU slaved over. Yes, my men irritated the shit out of me, but seeing them happy never ceased to fill me with a warm feeling.

So, I was preparing myself for a long, yet rewarding, night ahead with my mother. You can imagine my immense disappointment when she called and told me she wasn't feeling well.

"What? Mom? What's wrong?"

As she droned on about her ailments, I couldn't suppress my selfishness. I hid it for her sake, but when I hung up, all I could think of was the dread of preparing this massive meal alone.

So, naturally, my demeanor wasn't the best when I walked in my house lugging an armful of groceries. Martin was home early -- as he usually was the day before Thanksgiving -- but I knew he was secretly working. He was staring too intently at his laptop as he was reclining in his chair. He did hop up the moment he saw me struggling and rush over to help. He even went out to get the remaining bags from the car.

However, to my eternal annoyance, Martin just dropped his load off at the table, gave me a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, and tried to leave me to deal with the meal alone. He didn't comment on my OBVIOUSLY disappointed countenance, or even ask what was wrong. His focus was getting back to his laptop.

"Mom can't make it tonight to help me. She's not feeling well." I informed him, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice.

Martin at least had the decency to look worried as he asked, "Is she okay?"

"Yeah." I said, but then poignantly repeated, "But she can't help me tonight."

I could see the wheels turning in his head. He knew the implication was that I'd have to cook the entire meal by myself UNLESS I had help from my husband. The problem was, he wanted no parts of what was going on in the kitchen.

A good husband's next words would've been, "You know what? I'll be your cooking buddy. Where do I begin?"

But MY husband was actively trying to avoid that. And that irritated me even more; so much so that I didn't want to even look at him.

"I guess I'm cooking it all by myself." I said with a sad sigh.

Yes, it was a guilt trip. Yes, I should've just asked for his help directly. But, for some reason, I wanted him to volunteer on his own. I wanted him to want to do it.

And you know what? It worked. But not on Martin.

From behind me, coming in from the back entrance of the kitchen, we heard Danny say, "I'll help you, Aunt Ronnie."

We both turn to him, noticing for the first time that he was there. Seeing both of us looking at him, he repeated, "I'll help. Where do you want me?"

My face melted into a grateful smile as I just walked up to him and threw my arms around his neck. My tits smashed against his chest as I squeezed him tight. Then I grabbed him by the chin, kissed his cheek, and turned to my husband with a defiant look.

"At least SOMEONE loves me." I said to him.

He didn't look ashamed of his reluctance. He just looked relieved that Danny let him off the hook. So, he took his leave.

Me and my new cooking buddy got down to business. He wasn't as experienced as my other buddy, but he followed instructions well. It was awkward at first, but the two of us found our rhythm, and we became a well-oiled machine. Soon, familiar smells of the holiday filled the kitchen.

After a bit, Chris walked through the front door. After giving me a kiss on the forehead, he greeted Danny with a slap on the back before asking me, "Where's Grandma?"

"She's not gonna make it tonight. She wasn't feeling well."

He nodded, then made his way over to check out what was cooking. I saw him about to reach into the pan of Mac and Cheese that was about to go into the oven, so I used the wooden spoon I had to slap his hand.

"Ow! Ma?"

"You know better." I said, cutting my eyes at him.

He chuckled as he backed away. Turning to Danny, he asked, "How'd you get roped into helping?"

Danny shrugged. "I volunteered. Auntie Ronnie needed help."

I threw him a smile as a reward for being so sweet. Then, I turned to my son and said, "You see there, Chris? That's how you show appreciation to your mother. You notice her distress and you chip in. At lease someone loves me."

Chris chuckled again and gave me another kiss on the forehead. "You know I love you mom. I'm just a terrible cook."

"There are other ways you can help."

Chris suddenly cupped his hand behind his ear, like he heard something. "What's that Dad? You want me in the living room? Be right there!" he said, even though no one called him. Then he gave me an impish grin and walked away.

I shot him a glare as he exited.

So, it was just me and Danny, once again. And my wine. Since he was so good to me, I looked at him mischievously as I poured him a glass. If he was going to be my cooking buddy, he was going to enjoy ALL the perks.

The two of us soon hung out as we cooked, just as I'd hoped my mother and I would do. My husband and son made sure to stay clear of the kitchen all together for fear that they'd get roped into helping.

But you know what? I was enjoying Danny. Screw them. We were lost in our little world, talking about our lives and whatnot. I asked about his video game, and he asked about my job. I shared some funny stories that'd happened to me at work, and we laughed. And drank.

As the wine flowed, we became more relaxed with each other. After a while, I started noticing that Danny was getting a little handsy. At first, I just chalked it up to little accidents as we tried to maneuver around each other. It seemed inadvertent. But soon, a pattern began to develop.

A hand would rub my bottom. He would gently touch my hip as he came around me. His body would press against my backside as he reached over me to get into the cabinets.

It wasn't obvious, but the frequency at which his hands ended up on me made it impossible to ignore. And given our history, these "accidents" were anything but.

This was a level up from the simplistic voyeuristic nature of our relationship. Ever since the blowjob, and the discovery of my slutty avatar, there's been an underlying current beneath the surface. In front of Martin, Chris, and the rest of the family, we were Auntie and Danny. But under that, in our private world, we had a secret that was just ours.

I wasn't sure what to do about his hands, so I stuck with my default of pretending I didn't notice. But with the cat out of the bag about what I previously allowed him to do, Danny was looking to push the boundaries of our "game".

So, as I was mixing a large bowl of mashed sweet potatoes, he went to reach around me to grab a knife that was on the other side. He could've just as well walked around me to get it, but this wasn't about the knife.

As he reached across my stomach, his body pressed in close to mine. His chest was touching my arm. Then, he completely rested the palm of his other hand on my butt, right at the round curve. This wasn't a brush, or an accident. This was him openly groping me.

Our eyes connected. Our gazes locked. The heat from his hand radiated through the thick material of my jeans. I felt him rub in a circle and then squeeze my butt, as if making sure I knew what he was doing. He peered into my eyes, gauging my reaction.

What was I to do?

Maybe it was the wine. I don't know. But I did what I previously did. I returned my focus to my work and continued to stir my bowl, as if nothing were amiss.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him smile to himself. Then, I felt the pressure of his hand disappear from my ass as he grabbed the knife from around me and went to chop celery for the stuffing.

The two of us cast occasional glances towards the other as we worked, wordlessly speaking in our secret language.

Like the first time I caught him watching me, a silent pact was made.

***

Thanksgiving dinner the next day was a roaring success. I had my cooking buddy to thank for that. We cooked throughout the night and didn't get to bed until 3 in the morning. Then, we woke up and finished. The result of our hard labor was a well-fed family.

My mom didn't make it after all, which meant she was really sick. I felt a little guilty about my selfish thoughts the day before, so after I played the good hostess, I made sure to bring her a plate and spend some time with her.

She felt bad about leaving me hanging. She was worried that I had to do it all by myself (she knew my husband and son would avoid helping). I eased her mind by telling her about Danny volunteering to help.

She was pleased that I was spending time with him, considering what his life has been like. Naturally, I left out certain details of our time spent, but told her that I was enjoying his company. Then I bragged about his plans for his video game (once again, left out certain details).

"I'm glad you can be a good influence on him." she said to me.

That one statement stuck with me as I drove home from her house. Was I being a good influence on him? Or was our secret little game messing him up?

My acquiescence to Danny's hand on my ass seemed to open a door to something beyond voyeuring from a distance. It was one thing to let him look. Allowing him to touch me crossed the boundary. Though I was still a passive participant, I was very much entertaining him at this point.

Throughout the night as we cooked, his hand found its way to my derriere continuously. And now that I'd given him implicit permission to grope me, he let it linger. He was subtle about it; that was the game, after all. But both of us knew what he was doing. And neither of us stopped it.

A part of me was curious as to how far he would take it. I was also curious about how far I would let him take it. Where was my line? Would I let him grab my tits? Put his hands inside my jeans and rub my ass over my underwear?

Honestly, I didn't know. And that's what scared me.

I knew I had to be the adult here. I had to stop this silly game with my nephew. The repercussions to being discovered were disastrous. What would've happened if Martin had walked into the kitchen and found Danny's hand on my ass like it belonged there? In the very least, he'd believe I was innocent in the matter. But that would leave Danny as the perverted opportunist, exploiting his naïve Aunt's trust.

I shuddered to think how that would affect him long term.

I made up my mind to have a frank talk with him later. No more pretending. No more permission by omission. This had to stop.