Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind Pt. 04

Author's Note: Please take note of this story's category and tags, in case the subject matter might not be to your liking. Also, note this is a follow-on chapter in a multi-part series. If you haven't already, please start your reading with Chapter 1, otherwise the story won't flow well and might be a bit confusing.

This is a work of fiction. The plot is fictional. The characters are fictional. In other words, it's not real life. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental. All fictional characters in this fictional story involved in fictional sexual activities are 18+ in their completely fictional lives. If you think you recognize a real-life someone in this story, you lead a more colorful life than the author. :-)

Lastly, and most importantly, I hope you enjoy the story!

-BizMe

# # # # #

Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind: Part 4

# # # # #

My head was swimming as Aunt Clara led Mom into the kitchen to discuss the 'rights and responsibilities of a caregiver' according to Aunt Clara's treatment plan for me--a treatment plan that, thus far, had resulted in my getting spanked by my stepmother (and later my aunt), fingered in the ass by my aunt (and later my stepmom), and jerked off by both Mom and Aunt Clara (twice)!

Now, as I lay naked on the couch in our living room, I wondered how this 'therapy' was ever going to actually help me. How could corporal punishment, naked humiliation, and sexual depravity help cure me of absent-mindedness and timidity--problems I'd had as long as I could remember and probably longer? And even if it did help, was I now doomed to an eternity in Hell for the incestuous things I'd experienced with family members?

I could try to argue I was the victim, an unwilling recipient of these so-called treatments. I certainly didn't consent to the spankings--well, not exactly, and not at first, anyway. Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy what Aunt Clara called the 'pleasurable corrections.'

My fate was sealed, either way, I supposed, either by lying through my teeth or by acts of incest. One way or the other, I was going to Hell. Or maybe... maybe there was some legitimate justification for the way I'd been manhandled by Mom and Aunt Clara?

As much as I resented Aunt Clara for her high-brow education, I assured myself that there must be some justifiable logic behind such an extreme or, as Aunt Clara called it, 'non-traditional' treatment plan. Maybe I just wasn't smart enough to understand it.

Besides, there was no doubt in my mind Mom loved me and she was in support of it. She'd already sacrificed so much of her life to focus on me. I had been her priority since even before Dad left us like a two-bit gambler trying to hide from his bookie.

And since Dad walked out on us, Mom had given up on her career, her aspirations, her dreams, and her love life. She wouldn't suddenly turn sour on me after her entire life had been dedicated to doing what she thought was in my best interest, would she?

No, I could trust Mom. The real question was whether I could trust Aunt Clara and I quickly decided I had no other choice. I had to trust Aunt Clara. Mom was at her wit's end trying to help me with my problems with inattentiveness and my recent angry outbursts.

She deserved better than that from me. I knew she did. But neither she nor I had been able to find a solution to my problems.

If Aunt Clara's secret, possibly illegal, surely immoral, non-peer-reviewed, and unstudied methods for curing inattentiveness and timidity had even a snowball's chance in Hell of working, I owed it to my stepmom to try.

Besides, everything Aunt Clara said about her qualifications was true--being a tenured psycho-therapist with a successful practice, a peer-reviewed researcher published in multiple journals, and a highly sought-after guest lecturer at colleges and symposiums across the country.

If not as a family member, she can at least be trusted as a professional, can't she? I mean, of course, she can. I asked and quickly answered my own question in a single thought.

I was certain she loved Mom and, even though she had always seemed more distant with me, I was pretty sure she loved me, too. That didn't change the fact that she was condescending and bitchy more often than not, though.

As I continued trying to comprehend everything that had happened so far in the craziest day of my life, Mom and Aunt Clara chatted non-stop in the kitchen.

I rose from the couch and tiptoed toward them only stopping once I'd reached the arched doorway where I hid, just around the corner.

"You have to take care of yourself before you try to care for others," Aunt Clara lectured her. "You know there's a reason the stewards on an airplane tell passengers to put their own oxygen mask on first, before trying to help someone else, even their own children."

"I know that," Mom agreed cautiously.

"You'll be of no use to anyone else if you're not first taken care of yourself. You can't help Andy if you're not..."

"I get it, Clarissa, I do. It's just... well, it's been so long since I've..."

"Gotten laid?"

I heard a smack and presumed Mom had just slapped Aunt Clara's arm.

"That's not what I was going to say. I was going to say it's been a long time since I've put myself first... for almost anything."

"I couldn't agree more, Mary. When was the last time you went shopping?"

"I went to the grocery store yesterday after..." Mom started to say.

"No! Not grocery shopping. Real shopping! Like we used to do in college? At Victoria's Secret and that store off the interstate just outside of town?"

"Oh, Clarissa! That was... We were... Oh, I'm not young and..."

"And what? Horny?" Aunt Clara pressed.

"No!"

"Aren't you, though?" Aunt Clara obviously disagreed. "I think that worn-out latex cock in your nightstand might disagree."

"Clarissa! Be quiet!"

I'd already known about Mom's dildo. I found it the same way Aunt Clara did when Mom sent me to her room to get something else from that drawer.

"Or the vibrator egg?"

I didn't know about 'the egg' and decided I would do some snooping later to see what that was about.

"Clarissa! Andy might hear you!" Mom begged.

"You think he hasn't heard you before? You're not exactly quiet, as I recall," Aunt Clara continued to pester.

"Clarissa Emanuelle, please," Mom begged again, though she let out an odd giggle at the same time.

Emmanuelle? My mind quickly started to wander. Wasn't there some super sexy movie with that name? And that's Aunt Clara's middle name, too? Well, Aunt Clara might not be as hot as that one woman but she's pretty damn hot. Her long slender legs...No! Somehow, I'd just stopped myself and it surprised me when I did.

"I think you've just repressed all those feelings because you're so preoccupied with caring for your son."

"It's not just that," Mom confessed quietly.

"Then what else?" Aunt Clara asked.

"I'm not... who I used to be. I'm not... young... or pretty... or desirable."

"That's so not true and you know it! Why, even Patrick has said you're a MILF, Mar."

"A what?"

Oh, come on, Mom. You've got to know what MILF stands for! I said to myself, surprised that Mom could be so out of touch.

"Oh my, so you're behind the times a little," Aunt Clara guffawed. "A MILF. A Mother I'd Like to Fuck?"

"Oh my God! Patrick said that!?"

"Don't act so surprised. I bet Andrew has fantasized about you, too."

What?! I startled at Aunt Clara's words and then tried to suppress what I knew was true... that she was right.

"What?! But he's my son! And... and.. Patrick is my nephew!" Mom protested.

"And? Patrick's also a strapping young man with a whole lot of barely controlled libido running through his veins. Same with Andrew. And I'm pretty sure the fact that he's family didn't stop you from drooling when you saw your son's hard cock earlier, did it?"

"Clarissa!"

"Well? Am I wrong?"

I leaned in closer, eagerly waiting to hear Mom's answer.

"I... Clara... I just can't bring another man into my life. He could end up just like my shithead ex-husband. He could be worse! And I still need to figure out how to help Andy! And..."

"And, and, and. All excuses. You're just full of them, Mary. And don't think I didn't notice you not answering my question. You were drooling when you saw your son's cock, weren't you?"

I heard Mom shuffle her Feet under the table but not answering.

"Oh my Gawd," Aunt Clara huffed. "You're thinking about it even now, aren't you?!"

"Ugh! I am, Clara! I'm a terrible person! And a worse mother!"

Wow! I had no further thought than that. Just, Wow!

"No, Mary! I'm telling you this therapy isn't only for Andrew. It's for you, too. You're not a horrible mother. You're the best mother. You're the mother he needs. And you won't have to worry about bringing another man into the picture. You won't need one. And you'll still be helping Andrew while also helping yourself."

"I hear what you're saying, Clara. I just..."

"Just nothing, Mary! No more excuses! It worked wonders for Patrick and me. I'm convinced it will for you and Andrew, too. And call me selfish, but I want my fun-loving, vivacious, confident sister back. Please, continue with the plan."

I wasn't sure exactly what Aunt Clara had in mind, but what I heard made me sad. Sad that my stepmom had given up so much for me. Sad that she'd lost the confidence she once had. Sad that she could no longer even see how attractive she still was. Patrick saw it. I saw it. Aunt Clara saw it. Only Mom didn't.

It made me angry, too. Angry at myself for being the reason for all of it. All because I was so feeble-minded that I couldn't stay focused on things and daydreamed all the time and was forgetful and flighty. Like that one deputy in that black and white t.v. show? You know, the one where that guy keeps his gun unloaded and a single bullet in his pocket which he always seems to lose? What was the name of that show? Andy something... Again, I somehow caught myself starting to drift and stopped it and again it surprised me. What surprised me, even more, was what I did next.

"You should do it, Mom," I blurted, coming out from my hiding spot and saying it without even thinking it through first.

"Andy!" Mom shrieked in surprise. "Were you? Did you hear us...? Were you spying on us... again?!"

"Mom, you should do it. And no, I wasn't spying, I mean, yeah, I guess I was, but only a few seconds. And I'm sorry and I'm sure I'll get my butt spanked for saying that... dammit... but Mom, you should do it. I know it sounds crazy but I think this might work. Just a second ago I started to zone out and I was able to stop myself! I mean, it took a few seconds but, still, I..."

"Did you hear what it is?" Mom asked, interrupting me.

"Well... no. But it doesn't matter, does it? You deserve to be happy and it's my fault you're not. Whatever it is, you should do it. It's bad enough I'm all fucked up. You shouldn't be, too. It's all my fault and I don't want that anymore... So, you should do this. We should do this."

"But Andrew, you don't know..."

"Mom, just say you'll do it. Please?" I begged. "I don't want to feel guilty about this anymore. You deserve to be happy and Aunt Clara said this will do that. That's all I needed to hear, Mom."

"You heard him, Mary," Aunt Clara urged. "Just say yes. Say yes to being happy again. Yes to being taken care of. Yes to getting your mojo back."

"Andy... are you sure? You don't know what it means. What you'll have to..."

"Mom. I love you. I owe you so much and I'll never be able to repay you. I want to do this for you, okay? Whatever it is. I want to make you proud of me. And I want you to be happy. I'll do anything for you, Mom."

"Surely, you can't argue with that, Mary." Aunt Clara jabbed, knowing Mom was about to cave.

"I... oh my... well... okay... I guess," she muttered quietly, questioningly.

"Don't tell me we're going to have to institute a corrective treatment plan for you, too," Aunt Clara teased. "Say it with confidence, Mary. If this is what you want, say so."

"Ok, Clara. I'm in. Yes," Mom said with a smile that silently said that she was proud of herself. "And Andy?" she turned to face me, taking a few seconds to look me over from my head to my toes and back up again, lingering on both passes when she came to my crotch.

"Um... yeah, Mom?" I croaked as I suddenly remembered that I'd been standing there naked the entire time we'd been talking and not once thinking to cover myself.

"I was just going to say 'thank you' but then, you just said 'um' so you're up to what now? Eleven corrections?"

"Um... Dammit..."

"Hee hee," Mom giggled. "Twelve?"

"More like fourteen, Mary," Aunt Clara chimed in. "Don't forget he was spying on us again. And he said he was sorry again when we all know he didn't mean it. That's at least fourteen. Oh, and I'm more than a little curious what he was thinking about right before he came around the corner since he was already sporting another erection..."

I felt the blood drain away from my face as the number of future spankings kept going up and hoping she wouldn't make me confess that I'd been comparing her to a porn star in my imagination or recalling a time when I'd fantasized about seeing Mom naked.

"Don't worry, Andrew," Aunt Clara said, seeing the panic in my eyes. "In light of your progress and, dare I even say, chivalry, we'll defer your corrections until tomorrow. I'm not sure how much more punishment that your cute little ass can take tonight anyway without leaving marks. It does seem like we're going to be spanking it a lot, so we ought to pace ourselves a bit."

I couldn't help noticing Mom still glancing down at my manhood, and the knowledge of it gave me a tingle.

"Turn around, Andrew," Aunt Clara ordered. "I need to assess your ass... get it?"

Was that a joke? Did Aunt Clara just crack a joke? She never does that.

"Hmm? Oh, okay," I quickly corrected myself, lest I get yet another correction for making her repeat herself. I turned, thankful that Mom could no longer ogle my dick which had started to grow under her lascivious staring.

"Hmm, I suppose you could handle more spankings tonight but... oh, let's just save it for tomorrow," Aunt Clara decided. "In the meantime... oh, you can turn back around and face us, Andrew... In the meantime, I think we should get started on helping your mother out. What do you say, Andrew?"

"Oh... sure, Aunt Clara, whatever you say," I said while moving my hands to cover my mounting erection from their gaze.

"What I say, young man, is to stop covering yourself all the time," Aunt Clara said sternly. "You know we've already seen you in all your glory. There's no sense in maintaining this false modesty any longer. Go on then. Hands to your sides."

"Yes, ma'am," I muttered, moving my hands and exposing a three-quarters salute to their immediate attention.

"Much better. Come on then, you two. Let's get you both on the road to recovery," Aunt Clara said after clearing her throat. "To your bedroom, Mary."

Mom shot her attention away from me and back to Aunt Clara. "My... my bedroom? Really? Now?"

"No better time than the present, let's go." Aunt Clara replied coolly.

I backed up from the doorway, letting Aunt Clara lead the way but she reached her hand out as she passed, grabbing my penis and leading me down the hall with it like a dog on a leash. Mom followed close behind, staring at my butt.

"Andrew, go fetch my purse," Aunt Clara ordered no sooner than we entered Mom's bedroom.

Mom tore her gaze away from my butt in time to catch Aunt Clara squeezing my dick one last time before releasing me.

I turned back to the living room, completely naked in my own house, and the sudden awareness that the large bay window in the front had its curtains pulled open wide made me backtrack a couple of steps.

Had the curtains not been drawn when I was getting spanked? Were they open when I was anally penetrated by Aunt Clara? Had anyone seen when I was jerked off by Mom and Aunt Clara? And when old lady Perkins took her annoying lap dog for her evening walk, did she see me standing naked in the corner?!

I tried to guestimate what was happening at exactly 6:05 pm because that's when old lady Perkins walked past our front yard, like clockwork, every day. I stood frozen at the end of the hallway, wondering. Maybe her eyesight is bad. Maybe she couldn't see anything anyway, even she had looked. I tried to console myself with the possibility.

"Andrew, what's taking so long?" Aunt Clara called from behind me.

"I'm... I'm coming!" I announced then hurried across the living room and picked up Aunt Clara's purse from the side table. I also picked up the small bottle of lotion she'd left out--the bottle of stuff they'd massaged into my butt after my spanking and that they used to lube up my sphincter so they could finger-fuck my ass.

Just as quickly, I hurried back to the relative safety of the hallway, my hard dick leading the way.

"Oh, good. You brought the lubricant, too, though I doubt we'll be needing it for this," Aunt Clara chirped. "Now, Andrew. Turn around."

I did.

I heard Aunt Clara fidgeting around in her purse and felt a piece of fabric being placed across my eyes. An elastic strap was pulled over my head and snapped behind my head.

"You carry that with you all the time?" Mom asked. "And the lube, too?"

"I like to be prepared, Mary. I'd say it already come in handy, wouldn't you?"

"I... well, I suppose," Mom agreed.

"Get on the bed, Andrew," Aunt Clara ordered while turning me and guiding me toward Mom's bed.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, clumsily shuffling to the bed and then laying down on top of the fitted sheet. "Aunt Clara? Why am I blindfolded?" I asked.

"Because you're not privileged to see what's about to happen, that's why. You must earn that. Continually eavesdropping and other infractions will keep you in this state quite often, though. So you'd better get on the ball."

"Okay," I uttered.

"Now, lay flat. Yes, like that. Scoot down more. Yes. Right about there. Now, hands to your side. Good boy. No, don't touch yourself. That's not allowed. Very good."

"Mary, it's time," Aunt Clara said to Mom. "Here, I'll help you."

"I can manage," Mom protested weakly.

"I know that, but I want to help," Aunt Clara said almost pleadingly. "Is that okay?"

"Oh... okay," Mom almost whispered.

I listened intently, trying to glean what I could from the few audio clues floating in the air. A snap undone. A zipper pulled. Shuffling of feet. Things whooshing through the air and landing lightly on the floor. Then the mattress beneath me sinking slightly to my left and then to my right.

"Go ahead, straddle him," Aunt Clara directed and the mattress shifted beneath me again.

"Oh, no Mary! No!" Aunt Clara snickered. "That's a little too eager there. He's not ready for that, yet. And I doubt you are either."

"Oh... sorry," Mom said embarrassingly.

"It's okay. I should have been more specific. And believe me, I'm really glad to see you're suddenly so committed. But for now, come straddle him up here," Aunt Clara said while patting the mattress right next to my head.

When did that happen? When did Aunt Clara sit down on the mattress next to me? And what had Mom just tried to do anyway?

I had no more time to ponder it when I felt warm soft skin pressing against my right shoulder. A leg, I immediately thought. Then more shifting of the mattress until the contact became more forceful and a similar feeling crept across my other shoulder.