Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind Pt. 12

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, please start with Part 1 of the series otherwise, some of this won't make much sense.

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

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Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind: Part 12

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I woke from my postcoital nap alone in my bed. Above me, my ceiling fan threw twirling shadows from the lamp on my nightstand even though it was still light out from the late afternoon sun. The house was silent and I felt refreshed and energized.

I rose from my bed and stretched, reaching my hands toward the ceiling as I tried to figure out where everyone was. There was almost always someone else in the house and, so, there was almost always some noise. None of the women in my life could stand silence.

When my stepmother cooked in the kitchen, a radio would be on and she'd be dancing to the tunes. When Aunt Clara was over, she'd be listening to some boring public radio shit or watching a documentary on PBS or pontificating to the furniture about her latest theories in the world of psychotherapy.

When Miss Swenson or Nadia were over, they'd be chatting with me about college in the fall and our collective plans for the future.

And if my cousin Patrick was over, the surround sound booms of Call of Duty or Grand Theft Auto would rumble the floors and rattle the windows.

But a quiet house? That could only come from an empty house.

I relieved my bladder, flushed, and brushed my teeth to freshen my breath. Then I made my way downstairs, calling out to the quiet. My suspicions were confirmed when I found a note from my stepmother. That Mom knew the refrigerator door was the best place to leave a note for me made me smile.

Don't eat too much.

There will be plenty of food at the party.

Starts at 6:30. Don't be late!

Wear what we set out for you in the living room.

And don't forget deodorant and cologne so you smell nice!

xoxoxoxo

--Mom

Shit! That stupid party! Immediately, the relaxation I'd been enjoying exited my body, replaced with a rush of anxiety that drained the blood from my face and diverted it straight to my suddenly pounding heart.

I rushed to the side window in our living room and looked over to old lady Perkins' back yard. Though I couldn't really see anything through the thick arborvitae trees, I could hear the recognizable voices of Mom, Aunt Clara, and old lady Perkins.

"Giggles and gossip," I muttered to myself, referring to what Mom always called it whenever two or more females got together. I could only presume both the giggles and the gossip were about me and the disheartening fact that, soon, they'd be ogling my body while enjoying their stupid little 'tea party' or 'Old Ladies Bridge Club meeting' or whatever the hell they wanted to call the damned thing.

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself.

"You okay?" a voice asked quietly from behind me and I nearly jumped out of my skin from the unexpected spook of her ninja-like arrival.

"Damn, Andy," Nadia giggled. "I didn't mean to scare you!"

"I, uh... I wasn't scared," I muttered as I tried to compose myself.

"Uh-huh. Don't you get spankings for lying?" she asked, and I hoped she was teasing or, at least, that she wouldn't tattle on me. "Worried about the party?" she asked, looking over my shoulder out the same window I'd been peering out of.

I nodded. "Don't suppose there's any way to get out of it, huh?"

Nadia smiled sympathetically. "Probably not."

"Y-you're still not coming, right?" I asked.

"You don't want me there?" she asked, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

"I... well, I'm afraid they're just going to keep embarrassing me all night. I... I'd rather you not see me like that," I confessed.

"Oh, Andy," she smiled, coming closer and tenderly touching my cheek. "I wish I was." She leaned back. "I can't believe I have something in common with old lady Perkins, but I kinda like seeing you all flustered. It's cute. Makes me want to gobble you up. Plus, it's downright sexy when you're not just flustered, but also naked... and hard."

Of course, she had to stress that last word and I fought the instinct to hide my man-parts behind my hands at the not-so-subtle reminder that I was indeed completely naked, as was the protocol when I was at home.

I blushed and looked away.

"Yeah... just like that," she said with a playful smirk. "Minus you being hard, that is."

We stood there awkwardly a few seconds, me staring at the floor, Nadia staring at my blushing nakedness.

"This what you're wearing?" she thankfully let up, holding up the black pants and white dress shirt by the handle of their hangers.

I nodded, glad to be talking about something else.

"Oh man, Andy, you're going to look so sexy in your James Bond outfit," she exclaimed. "Maybe I'll have to pop over after all."

"No!" I blurted, before realizing she'd only said it to get a rise out of me.

"Ha ha ha! Got you!" she giggled. "That was way too easy!"

"Jerk," I muttered.

"Dweeb," she shot back.

"Nerd!" I playfully rebutted.

"Naked boy with a raging hard-on!" she countered.

I quickly glanced down to my crotch.

"Got you, again!" she laughed. "Oh my God, you really are too easy. Oh, wait. I didn't mean you're easy," she chuckled. "Just that it's too easy to embarrass you."

She sauntered closer to me, the distance between us shrinking while the heat in my skin seemed to rise. "You're not, are you?" she asked as she held the dress shirt up to my neck as if to envision what it would look like on me.

"Not what?" I asked, already forgetting what we'd been talking about.

"You're not easy," she reminded. "Because, I kinda like the idea of having you all to myself... though I guess it's a little late for that, huh?"

Considering by then that my stepmother, aunt, and Nadia's mother had brought me to orgasm more often than I could count on my fingers and toes combined, I couldn't argue the point. That I'd done the same for them in return would have made it foolish to try.

She removed the dress shirt from in front of me, eyed me up and down, then put it back and considered how it looked again.

Back and forth, she repeated the process. Dress shirt in front of my naked body, then dress shirt pulled away, leaving me standing stark naked before her.

"W-what are you doing?" I finally asked after she repeated the motions half a dozen times.

"Trying to decide," she said thoughtfully, placing a thumb and pointing finger on her cute little chin. "Yep!" she finally announced. "I like you better naked!"

Her giggle was intoxicating or maybe it was just her presence because I felt myself losing my ability to speak and my legs began to feel wobbly beneath me.

"But you never answered my question," she reminded me again. "Are you easy, Andy? Because if you are, I might have no choice but to show up just so I can get my share of you."

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"I... I'm not easy, Nadia," I managed to tell her.

"Hmm..." she seemed to be considering my answer. "You sure about that? You know, I heard you this afternoon," she said coolly, but the blank look on my face told her I still didn't know what she was referring to. "When you were in the shower? With your mom?"

"Oh, shit!" I blurted as soon as the recognition kicked in that, yes, that very same day I'd had shower sex with Mom. "Nadia! About that! I..."

"Don't worry, Andy," she said assuringly. "I thought it was hot. I even got off to it, myself. You know, my room is right across the driveway from your bathroom window."

I stared at her dumbfounded. "Y-you're not mad? I mean... Nadia, I had sex with someone else... not you."

"Your Mom, Andy. Not just 'someone else' and no, I'm not mad. Like I said, I thought it was hot. I wish I could've been there to see it, though," she groaned lustfully as if replaying it in her mind. "Don't think your Aunt Clara was so happy about it though."

"Yeah... well, I think she just has something else in mind for me," I said quietly.

"Yeah," she mused, "I imagine all of your women have things in mind for you."

"My women?" I asked, curious if she was referring to my small team of female caregivers or also old lady Perkins and her bridge club friends, too.

"Mm-hm," she continued. "You seem to think all these women control you... but I think you could pretty easily turn the tables... if you really wanted to."

"Why would I want that," I asked honestly.

"I don't know," she mumbled to herself. "But maybe someday you will. Now, about that party... I suppose you should get dressed and head over, huh?" she asked, pointing at the clock on the wall before turning toward the door. "Don't have too much fun," she teased unrelentingly, "but if you do, can you at least make it extra loud, so I can hear it from my room?"

"Oh my God, you're... you're crazy," I muttered.

"I'm crazy?" she asked. "You're the one who's about to..."

"Okay, okay! No need to say it," I cut her off. "We're both crazy, I guess."

She came back to me and kissed my cheek. "I'm crazy for you. Save something for me, will ya?" she winked then glanced down to my still drooping penis. Then she turned back for the door and disappeared.

I dressed in the outfit set out for me and headed over to old lady Perkins' house, knocking on the door and waiting for someone to let me in.

"Andy!" old lady Perkins greeted with a voice too loud for the occasion. "Hey, everyone! It's Andy! The man of the hour!"

I looked behind her seeing no one else in sight and not hearing anyone either.

"Oh," she seemed to suddenly come back to her senses, lowering her voice at the same time. "I forgot, Andy. Everyone's outside. Maybe I started imbibing too early," she bubbled, then opened the door for me.

"Everything you need is in the tent," she started into a whirlwind litany of instructions as she led me through her house. "The caterers already set up the food and plates and such. All your changes of clothes are set aside as well, in the order we want you to wear them, from left to right."

I followed her closely, trying to stay close enough to hear what she was saying.

"I'll get everyone seated and then you can start service," the cadence of her voice seeming to match the pace of her steps as she led me swiftly across the patio, past the pool, and to the tent I'd set up earlier that day.

When I'd last seen the tent, it was empty, save for some folding tables I'd set up along the perimeter. Now those tables were all covered and there was even an area rug rolled out on the ground in front of the row of outfits I was to wear.

I tried to get a closer look at them, but old lady Perkins snagged my attention again with more instructions.

"First, make sure everyone's drinks are taken care of. Most of us have already started, but keep them topped, okay?" she asked and I nodded, though everything else about my countenance showed a lack of conviction. "Have you ever waited tables before?" she asked, perhaps noting my apprehension.

"Uh, no ma'am," I answered, my nerves still on edge but maybe not as bad as they should have been. I wondered if staying busy and concentrating on the work might prove to be my saving grace tonight.

"That's okay, Andy," she assured me with a friendly hand on my forearm that immediately calmed me. "We didn't exactly hire you for that anyway, did we?" she teased with devilish crookedness in her smile.

"Uh... yeah," I muttered. So much for feeling calm.

"Right, so the key is to be attentive but not intrusive," old lady Perkins slid effortlessly back into hostess mode. "The goal is for no one to have to ask you for anything. Fill the glasses to within three-fourths of an inch from the top and do your best to keep them filled. Got it? No one wants to run out, nor do we want to know how much we've actually been drinking," she cackled with a snort and I couldn't help half-smiling myself. "Use this tray here to carry plates and dishes and cover it with a doily if you're bringing fresh food out."

"When it's time to serve the food, serve the hostess first. That's me," she continued barking orders and instructions at a feverish pace. "Then serve the others but don't serve the same person first every time. Place plates with food on them from the right. Remove dirty dishes from the right, too. And try to be quiet. Don't rattle the dishes or silverware if you can help it."

I struggled to keep up with her instructions. "Miss Perkins," I interrupted her rapid-fire lecture on the rules of waiting tables. "I... I'm trying to remember all this... honest, I am... but... well, it's a lot."

Old lady Perkins let out a sympathetic huff and touched my forearm again. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Andy. I know it is," she offered a smile that almost made me forget how conniving she could be. "I guess I'm just excited and want everything to go perfectly."

"I'm... pretty sure it won't," I said quietly, convinced there was no way I could meet her expectations.

She smiled with understanding. "Tell you what, keep our drinks filled and try to be attentive. If you have a question just come whisper in my ear and I'll tell you what to do. How's that?" she asked sweetly.

"Yeah! Hey, that sounds good! Uh... thank you," I muttered, feeling grateful that she would help me, even though I wouldn't have even been in this mess if weren't for her. Suddenly, I felt conflicted about old lady Perkins. Is she friend or foe? Or maybe both? Is that possible?

"Okay, I'll get everyone seated, and then you can come out and make sure everyone's glasses are full. Got it?" she asked but quickly turned to leave the tent, giving me no chance to answer. "Oh! Andy? One last thing," she turned to face me, openly eyeballing me from head to toe and back again. "You look incredibly handsome in that outfit."

"Oh... uh, thank you, Miss Perkins," I replied, cursing myself for reacting to her compliment with a blush of my cheeks and head turned away. "Too bad you won't be in it much longer," she followed with a libidinous tone that reminded me why I was really there.

When I looked back up, she was gone.

I surveyed the tables, seeing one that had nothing but pitchers of two types of drinks in them, plus a couple more with ice water. Remembering her first order was to keep the drinks topped off, I grabbed one each of the pitchers and exited the tent.

Approaching the table, it seemed no one paid me any attention, Giggles and Gossip garnering their attention. I remembered to reach from the left as I retrieved a half-full glass of a pink drink and filled it behind the woman sitting there.

Old lady Perkins shot me a scowl and my eyes went wide. Did I screw up already? I wondered. She directed me to her side with a quick flick of her head and I quickly made my way to her.

"Serve the hostess first, Andy," she whispered sternly in my ear.

"Oh! I forgot, Miss Perkins," I muttered quietly.

"It's fine, Andy," she said less angrily. "And remember to serve from the right."

"Okay," I said as I stood upright and scooted between her and the lady seated to her right, my body facing Miss Perkins so I could take care of her first.

Just as I started to reach for her glass, I felt her hand rub the front of my pants and I jerked in surprise, nearly knocking her glass over.

"Compose yourself, Andy," she growled. "Do not do that again."

"N-no, ma'am," I muttered, then reached back for her glass again.

Without hesitation, her fingers returned to the front of my pants, rubbing my crotch with the back of her hand while I fetched her glass.

Hurriedly, I extracted myself from the table and filled her drink from behind her. Nervously, I maneuvered myself to her right again, only then realizing I'd filled the glass to full and was now having to be very careful not to spill any as I reached to set it on the table.

"Oh, you naughty, boy," old lady Perkins grumbled, seeing how full I'd filled her glass. "Don't spill that Andy or you'll have to clean it up," she said challengingly as once again her hand snaked to my crotch.

Slowly, I straightened my arm, extending it to the table while the rest of my body tensed under old lady Perkin's groping.

As if it wasn't all but guaranteed, my hand started shaking and I pulled it back, fearing I might accidentally dump the entire glass.

"Don't spill it," she commanded, watching me closely while seemingly doing everything she could to make me fail.

My hand quivered as I reached out again and sure enough, when old lady Perkins grabbed my balls, it happened. Some of the drink spilled past the rim of the glass and onto her arm.

Immediately, she reached her arm up to me and ordered, "Clean it up, young man."

I looked around for a napkin or small towel, but the only ones to be found were part of the place settings. As if reading my mind, old lady Perkins let out a grunt.

"Clean it up, now, boy," she barked and I flustered, unsure what to do. "Just use your mouth," she finally suggested.

I froze in place unsure if I'd heard her right.

"Hurry up, then! Before it makes more of a mess!" she nearly shouted, causing all the other ladies to stop their giggling and gossiping to see what the commotion was about.

Hesitantly, I leaned down as old lady Perkins lifted her arm higher. I opened my mouth and sucked the sweet alcoholic wetness from her skin, knowing all eyes were now on me and the subservient act I was performing.

"Good boy," she chimed, making sure to be loud enough for the other ladies to hear. "Now, let's try not to make any more messes, shall we?"

"Y-yes, ma'am," I muttered and carefully set her filled drink on the table.

As I made my way around the table, the sounds of conversation resumed bringing with it an air of normalcy, except that as I went to serve old lady Perkins' friends, each one found their preferred way to tease me while carrying on their chattering dialogues.

Millie, the quietest member of the Old Ladies Bridge Club, looked up to me with a smile, making a show of playing with the top button of her blouse. She fiddled with it while watching me closely until she'd worked it completely loose and brazenly revealed the top of her ample cleavage to me.

Of course, my brainless penis reacted, involuntarily twitching in my underwear as even more of her breasts became visible when she worked a second button loose.

I cleared my throat as I retreated to move on to the next lady, grateful that at least quiet Millie hadn't actually touched me.

Loud-mouthed Maribell, on the other hand, was as brash with her touch as her booming voice. "Oh my God, are you hard, young man?" she asked unashamedly, again causing the other ladies to refocus their attention on me.

"What did you do to him, Millie?" she blared, brazenly grabbing at the crotch of my pants, squeezing my hardening dick behind a fistful of cloth, and encouraging my penis to engorge even further.