Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind Pt. 06

My dick twitched at the thought of someday being with Nadia but still being serviced by her mom. How could that even happen. There's no way she'd be okay with that. Would she? No! Someday, she'd find out about it. Sometime after we have kids. And she'll probably beat me to a pulp and kick me to the street. Then she'll be left a single mother, forced to raise our poor kids on her own and I'll be...

My eyes shot open I felt Miss Swenson's lips touch mine, immediately locking against me and then stretching her tongue into my mouth. As quickly as my eyes had shot open, they immediately shut and I basked in the luxurious warmth of Miss Swenson's silky soft lips moving against mine.

When she released me from her kiss, my eyes remained shut, my lips still puckered, hunting and searching for the lost warmth of her sensuous mouth. I must have looked ridiculous.

Miss Swenson giggled. "Oh, Andy," she teased.

I opened my eyes to see Miss Swenson gazing back at me, her smile wide, her eyes gleaming, her high cheekbones rosy and flushed. She was every bit as beautiful as Nadia, just a little bit older, of course.

"You so damn irresistible," she said, bubbling with joy from some unknown spring. "Nadia will be very lucky to have you... and I will be, too."

"But, Miss Swenson... someday... you'll be my... my mother-in-law?"

"Of course," she giggled. "That's what you want, isn't it? You can't someday marry Nadia and not have me as your mum-in-law. We're a package deal, Andy." She chortled some more.

"But... you just kissed me... My... my mother-in-law just kissed me," I mumbled almost incoherently.

"I kissed you, Andy? Is that really what I just did?" she teased.

"Well, no. I mean, you did... more," I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"I gave you a mind-numbing blow-job, Andy. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I... yes," I finally agreed.

"And you feel better, don't you?"

"Y-yes."

"Good! Now, let's get you dressed and out of this house."

She grabbed me by the hand and led me to my room, which she found quite easily since she'd caught me spying on her from it more than once. She ransacked my drawers looking for something that she, in her words, 'wouldn't be ashamed to see me in.'

Considering that she was wearing athletic clothes, I wasn't sure why it was so difficult to find something. Pretty much half of my wardrobe was running shorts and shirts. The rest was mostly blue jeans and polos. There weren't many options.

She finally settled on a worn-out pair of running shorts with not much left of the thin nylon brief that was sewn in. She paired it with a too-small t-shirt that I actually quite hated.

"This will do nicely," she decided and tossed them to me to put on.

Despite my confusion at her choice of clothing for me, I put them on and was surprised at how uncomfortable it felt to be wearing something again, especially as tight as the t-shirt which seemed at least one size too small. Within minutes we'd eaten a quick breakfast and were heading out the door.

"First stop, the grocery," Miss Swenson announced as we climbed into her minivan.

The inside was immaculate, not at all what I expected, and the rear seats all removed, and there were several storage bins stacked neatly against one side.

"We like to go camping," Miss Swenson interrupted my snooping. "Each bin has certain gear in it. Cooking, Shelter, Sleeping, Games. Helps us get out of town quickly whenever we want."

Each bin was labeled with tape on the side, clearly marking its contents.

"What about food? And clothes?" I asked, noticing no bins for those.

"Oh, we just go naked, of course," Miss Swenson answered quickly and caused me to do a double-take, before locking my shocked gaze on her smiling face.

"Oh," I muttered embarrassingly, "You're joking with me, aren't you?"

Her smile grew wider. "Maybe I am. Probably, I am. Or maybe, I'm not."

I gulped unable to completely hide my longing to imagine both Miss Swenson and her daughter Nadia outside, in the buff.

"Maybe you'll go with us sometime and find out for yourself?"

"Um, I... I'd like that... sure." I stammered.

"That's two," she giggled. "It seems you're having a hard time staying focused when we talk about being naked."

She wasn't wrong.

"Hmm, something to consider," she said thoughtfully, quietly, mostly to herself. "Okay, then. Off to the grocery before you get another major woody, eh?" she teased, noting the bulge in my shorts that hard started to sprout.

Immediately, I wished she'd chosen a different pair of shorts for me and I wondered how long before my embarrassment would be made public. It seemed only a matter of time. I didn't even have a t-shirt I could pull down to help hide it.

As we approached the grocery, I did a quick crotch-check and was relieved that I wasn't completely tenting my shorts. I grabbed an empty cart, something to at least keep in front of me, and followed Miss Swenson as she made her stops throughout the store.

We spent most of our time in the produce section where she acted embarrassingly flirty with me.

Holding up tomatoes to her chest, she asked, "What would you call these? Maybe size A? Do you think they're too small?"

"Um... I... I think they're g-good," I stammered. "I th-think they're a good size... I mean... I think they're just fine... for tomatoes, I mean."

"Just fine?" she pouted, "And that's three!"

Oh, shit. Is she baiting me for corrections? I started to worry and committed myself to do better.

"How about these?" she asked, turning to face me, holding two grapefruits in her hands, larger than the tomatoes and nearly identical in size to her perky, perfect breasts. "Definitely, size A. Maybe size B?"

"I don't really like grapefruit," I managed to say without stammering or saying 'um,' "But the size is... perfect. And, it's a good look on you, too," I grinned with pride at my cleverness.

"Oh-ho-ho. Look who's a sweet-talker all of a sudden! Good job, Andy! I guess you figured out what I was trying to do, huh?"

"Yeah, and it's not very nice," I said slowly, making sure not to stutter.

"Well, maybe... maybe not. You know, corrections don't have to be spankings," she said with a playful air of mystery in her voice, "you might actually enjoy it when Miss Swenson gives you corrections."

At once she turned and took several steps away from me. Quickly, I caught up to her. "What do you mean they don't have to be... you know..."

"What? Spankings?" she said so loudly that more than one other customer looked in our direction when she'd said it.

"Shh! Not so loud! Please, Miss Swenson?"

"Fine," she groused, "But I meant what I said. Corrections don't have to painful, they just have to be punitive."

"I don't understand. I thought that's the same thing," I answered, inching the cart closer to her as she picked up a cucumber.

"Hmm... this looks quite delicious... don't you think, Andy?" She held the cucumber up in one hand while stroking it suggestively with the other.

"No, it doesn't, Miss Swenson. I like girls," I said quickly under my breath as I grabbed it from her hand and put it in the cart. "What does punitive mean?" I asked again, trying to get our conversation back on track.

"Wait a minute. You don't have to be gay to appreciate a good cucumber," she teased, trying to sound serious. "Do you really not like cucumbers, or just that one, in particular?" She picked up a fatter cucumber that was also a good bit shorter. "Do you like this one better? It looks quite nice for snacking on, don't you think?" She snapped her teeth together like she was taking a bite.

"Oh, God, Miss Swenson, please be quiet! And I like cucumbers just fine, okay? But... that's not what you were talking about and someone might hear you!"

"So what if they do?" she protested. "I'm just talking about produce. I can't help it if their minds are in the gutter," she winked as she said it, then all of a sudden, something else caught her eye and she scurried to two rows away.

"Miss Swenson! What did you mean besides spankings?!" I hushed myself when I realized we were nearly making a scene.

I glanced around the store and noticed one woman in particular who kept picking up a piece of fruit to inspect it, though her eyes were clearly focusing beyond it toward me. Her attempts to be inconspicuous failed miserably.

I realized at some point during her pretense of inspecting of fruits and veggies, my penis had started to swell. I gulped and turned away, and tried inconspicuously to adjust myself before catching up with Miss Swenson.

"Mmm, I'm not sure I'll get out of the store without unwrapping this beautiful thing," she crooned. "It looks too delicious." She turned around to show me a bright yellow banana, slender and curved, that she was rubbing against her cheek like a web-cam porn star.

I swear I couldn't help it. My penis throbbed in my shorts.

Miss Swenson moved so closely, I thought she might kiss me... right there... in public... in the grocery store... with people around. Instead, she reached down and sneakily groped my manhood through my shorts. "Hmm, it doesn't seem quite ripe, yet, Andy," she teased mercilessly. "I bet it just needs some more time."

"Miss Swenson? Please... please, stop," I nearly begged as I tried to put some space between us. "You're teasing me and... well, just please, stop."

"Oh, Andy, I'm sorry," she sauntered back over to me and caressed my cheek with the banana, just as she'd done to her own cheek a moment prior. "But, no."

"N-n-no?" I stuttered.

"That's right. No. And I guess I'm not sorry, either. Your auntie told me desensitization might be a good therapy for us to try. I've been ordered to put you in situations you struggle with... so you can learn how to handle them and not avoid them. And you've been couped up in the house and need to get out more."

"But..."

"That's four," she interrupted before I could protest any further. "Now, let's see if we can find us some big, juicy melons." She took my place behind the cart which, to that point, had been my sole protection--the camouflage I relied on to hide my burgeoning dick from the curious eyes of the other shoppers--all middle-aged women doing their mid-morning shopping.

It was, I suddenly realized, a sufficiently odd thing to see a college-aged male in skimpy thin clothing tagging behind an older hottie like Miss Swenson in the grocery store. And every time we passed another woman, I felt like I was being undressed from my head to my toes and back again. The unabashed leering from these complete strangers was then replaced with a disdainful, judging glare thrown toward Miss Swenson.

"Jealous," she whispered, leaning her mouth close to my ear. "They only wish they could see what I already have. To touch what I've touched. To taste what I've..."

"Oh Gawd," I moaned, moving my hands in front of my crotch, unintentionally drawing even more attention to myself.

"M... Miss Swenson?" I tried to stay calm and ignore the visions flashing through my mind of her doing to me what she'd started doing so obscenely to the banana.

"Hmm, what is it, Andy?" she asked huskily. "And don't tell me you're jealous of a little old piece of fruit?"

"What did you say? I mean, um, no. I just..."

"Five and six," she interjected showing no mercy in counting corrections, "Try harder, Andy."

"Sorry."

"Seven. I said try harder," she stressed the word, glancing down to my crotch. "And move your hands to your sides. Act more naturally. More relaxed. Confident. Like you don't mind that they're glaring at you, picturing you naked, wishing your hard cock would accidentally escape from your shorts."

"Ugh! Miss Swenson, I..." I needed to say something, anything, to get her to stop talking. "Can I push the cart?"

"No, Andy. This is exactly the sort of thing your Aunt Clara wants you to deal with. Now man up."

"But... how? You're... turning me on... and... everyone's looking at me."

"I already told you. Pretend."

"What do you mean? Pretend this isn't happening?!"

"Exactly. Haven't you ever heard the saying 'fake it til you make it?'" she asked.

I nodded.

"Well... do that. Fake it. Pretend you know you're a stud. That you've got a hunk of a body. The kind that women like to fawn over and imagine themselves undressing. The kind they want to bring with them to the grocery store, simply to show off to the other women who don't get to have it. Because, Andy? You do have that kind of body. And all these women who are checking you out? They're loving every minute of this. They just wish they were me. I promise they're enjoying it. So, why shouldn't you, too?"

I gulped, struggling to keep my hands away from my crotch as I imagined everyone in the store was now staring at me.

"Be confident in yourself, Andy. Because you should be. Then pretend you don't care, that it's really all harmless. So what if they look? What harm comes from that? It doesn't mean they can have their way with you, does it?"

"I... guess not," I tentatively agreed, unable to find any holes in the logic of it.

"Andy, look at me," Miss Swenson pulled my face toward her with a finger on my chin. "Enjoy this. Stop fighting it. I know you're a catch. I know you're a hotty. And I know that it's harmless when a woman checks you out. You're the only one who doesn't know all that yet. So, until you do, just pretend."

"Pretend," I repeated. "Pretend?"

"Yes, pretend. Now, tell me. What would a confident guy do if he noticed a woman checking him out?" Miss Swenson asked.

"I guess, he'd... smile back at her?"

"Good. So, do it," she encouraged. "That woman over there in the sundress. She's been trying to be coy. How about you get the upper hand and throw her a smile. Let her know you caught her peeking. Make her uncomfortable instead of you."

I started to look down at my feet instead.

"Do it, Andy," she insisted, "or I'll add ten corrections for not obeying me."

I glanced surreptitiously at the other woman who was again picking up another piece of fruit that she had no intention of buying. As she raised it to her face and turned it just enough to be able to look past it, at me, I looked up at her and smiled.

"Wink," Miss Swenson urged and, without thinking, I did.

Immediately, the woman fumbled the fruit in her hand, nearly dropping it to the floor before recovering and setting it back on the pile with the other fruits of the same kind.

Miss Swenson snorted in laughter and I couldn't help giggling myself.

The woman quickly pushed her cart in front of her and scurried out of sight to the next aisle.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," I said happily, "That was actually kind of... fun."

"Great! Let's do more!"

"Oh, no, Miss Swenson," I hemmed, "I can't!"

"Eight. Stop fighting me on this. You just said you enjoyed it."

"Okay, fine."

We made our way to the sauces aisle and camped by the Italian sauces for a couple of minutes. Soon, the aisle had attracted an inordinate number of shoppers, who seemed to be loitering or waiting for us to move away from the sauces.

"Don't move," Miss Swenson whispered, "no matter what."

I froze myself in place, turned sideways to the other shoppers, and facing the wall of pasta and sauces. I was determined to be as still as a mannequin until she released me.

Miss Swenson scooted her small frame in front of me, pretending to be looking for a specific type of noodle.

I wondered what her ploy was until she leaned over to inspect a box, thrusting her ass back to my crotch, making direct and indecent contact with the front of my shorts.

In reaction, I flinched backward, but recovered quickly, straightening myself back up. I couldn't help looking down and the sight of Miss Swenson in her running shorts pressing her ass against my crotch sent my hormones into overdrive. Within seconds, my penis was engorged and straining at the nylon tricot fabric of my shorts, tenting them obscenely toward Miss Swenson's ass.

"Hmm," she said loudly so everyone else could hear the ruse, "I don't think they have it, Andy. Unless it's on the top shelf, maybe? But I can't see that high. Can you look up there?" She pointed to a bare spot on the very top shelf. "Step on your tippy-toes, Andy. Do you see anything up there?"

I inched closer to Miss Swenson, my cock nestling naturally in the cleft of her butt cheeks. I stood on my tiptoes, one hand on her lower back, as I stretched to look at the top shelf.

"I... I don't see anything," I grunted, straining to maintain my balance until my balance gave way and I flopped down hard. My hips thrust forward, pushing hard against Miss Swenson and causing her to topple forward, too, into a shelf full of marinara and garlic cream pasta sauce.

The sight must have seemed pornographic, scandalous, and vulgar. Miss Swenson bent at the waist, holding tight to the shelf in front of her, jars clanking loudly as they were shoved toward the back of the shelf, me pushing my hips forward against her ass as my arms quickly lowered, grasping her hips to keep us both from falling over completely.

I heard gasps up and down the aisle.

"Andy?" Miss Swenson calmly whispered. "Perhaps you should back up a little. I think we've given them enough of a show."

What I hadn't realized until that moment was that I'd been humping Miss Swenson, rhythmically thrusting my thinly veiled hard-on against her thinly clad behind. And with my hands grasping her hips, ostensibly for balance, it nevertheless looked as though I was trying to fuck her from behind. Maybe, I was.

"Oh... Oh God," I blurted loudly which caused more gasps. "Oh no!" I groaned.

I was sure the onlookers thought I was cumming, but in reality, I'd just become overwhelmed with embarrassment at my inappropriate display of uncontrolled libido.

Quickly, I regained my composure--or some measure of it, anyway--and helped Miss Swenson stand upright again. Then I turned to the shopping cart and tried, impossibly, to become invisible behind its wiry frame.

"Can we go now?" I asked, feeling an unfamiliar mix of both embarrassment and arousal.

"Well, we're not quite done shopping, but we should probably leave this aisle," she giggled as she scooted past me, patting my bottom as she did, eliciting one last round of gasps as we exited the aisle.

"You know you just made their day, don't you?" she whispered as we made our way to the opposite side of the store. "No doubt they'll be murmuring about it in the check-out lane and calling their girlfriends from their cars. The young man with a hard-on humping the old woman at the grocery store."

"Old woman?" I objected sincerely. "You don't really believe that do you?"

"Are you saying I'm not?" she egged me on to say more.

"Of course not," I said honestly. "You're a MILF, Miss Swenson. You know I was just humping you, right? So, yeah, you're hot."

"Why, thank you, Andy. A MILF, huh? Care to spell that out for me?" she teased.

"Um, I'd rather not... actually," I fumbled.

"Nine. But, do you really mean it? That I'm a MILF?"

"Y-yes," I confessed.

"Good to know, Andy. Good to know. And that wasn't so hard was it?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Telling someone how you feel about them," she said with a knowing smile as she'd just caught me in checkmate.

"I... yeah, I guess... but, I guess I'm mostly comfortable with you."

"You're not comfortable with Nadia?" she asked. "You chat with her all hours of the night. Doesn't seem like you have any problem then."

"Well, no. It's just when I'm in-person. I get all tongue-tied and stupid," it felt good to speak so freely about my insecurities, despite feeling ashamed of them at the same time.