My Aunt Drew Pt. 01

"Now don't eat all the danged cookies Roy. Just a few okay? We have plenty at home. Consuelo made and then hid them at my request. I knew if you found them they would be gone before Christmas. So. Just a few, right?"

I nodded and whispered, "I'll only eat a few. Promise."

As I picked up the sixth frosted cookie I felt a soft slap on the back of my head and a stern voice.

"You cheated. Come on, we should head home anyway."

I thought it strange that a man was leaning on her truck when we walked out of the building. As we approached Drew stiffened.

"Virgil." She said with disdain.

He nodded, "Drew."

"What do you want Virg?"

"I want a date with you."

She scoffed, "That's never going to happen and you need to stop asking. Good night and Merry Christmas. Now get the hell off my truck."

As we drove away she was almost spitting as she spoke, "That man drives me to cuss. He's such an ass. He's been asking me to go out for the past three years and I always tell him no. You'd think he could figure it out at some point. Wouldn't you?"

"He seemed nice Drew. Why won't you go out with him?"

"I'll tell you why. First off, he's married with two kids. Second, refer back to reason number one."

Wow, I had never seen her that fired up before, and certainly nothing like what she's just said. I figured she was talking about sex, drifted off to sleep I wondered if my aunt has sex. I'd never seen her so much as embrace a man, but, she tended to be gone for business functions every month or so, usually over a weekend. I slept until after eight Christmas morning waking to the smell of breakfast being cooked.

She'd gone all out, fresh cinnamon buns that had cooled enough for her to put drizzled frosting on them. The main breakfast consisted of warmed ham slices to go along with waffles made from some Scandinavian recipe like mother used to make. It was a leisurely meal, we talked, she informed me what we needed to do over the next few days, then we sat back with a cup of coffee and warm cinnamon roll. I helped her clear the table and do dishes before we adjourned to the living room. (Homes didn't have dishwashers like they do now)

Under the tree were my meager offerings of two silk scarves and some perfume to match what was already on her dresser. I'd had Consuelo get it for me. There was a small package for me and an envelope. She clapped her hands to get my attention.

"Okay Santa. Hand out the gifts, the envelope with your name gets opened last."

After she'd opened the perfume I opened the small package which contained cloth work gloves, I was definitely in need of those. Mine were worn and the fingers were hanging out the ends. I handed her the last gift from me. As she opened the package she began to cry. I was clueless as to what I may have done wrong, so I did what all smart guys do, I kept my mouth shut. Reaching for a Kleenex she dabbed her eyes, put one of the scarves around her neck and smiled.

"Thank you Roy. I love these, I would never buy them for myself. I know it's silly since I can afford it, but the aftereffects of living in poverty after I was kicked out are deeply engrained. I seldom splurge on myself. Can I hug you? Are you too old for that?"

Mom and gram had hugged me, but it seemed different with Drew. She was soft, warm, and smelled so good. That was the moment I became aware those bumps on her chest were soft and squishy, they had always seemed so rigid. The hug lasted longer than moms ever did and when she pulled back holding me at arm's length she spoke softly.

"Sorry, it's just that with your growth spurt and added weight it was like holding Alvin again. Damn his hide. Why did he have to go and die on me?"

Straightening up she said, "Enough of that. Open the envelope."

With bated breath and trembling fingers I slowly opened the envelope only to see a piece of official looking paper. As I unfolded it the enormity of the gift hit me like a ton of bricks. I was staring at the title of the '49 in my name. I fought like hell to contain the tears of joy but failed. Drew reached for and pulled me into another hug. When my shoulders stopped shaking she pushed me back holding out her clenched hand palm side down. Staring at her in bewilderment she chuckled,

"Well, open your hand Roy."

With my hand outstretched she placed a key in the palm. It had a tag on the key fob that said "Big Surf Realty".

With tears in her eyes she spoke, "That was Alvin's and only his. I never had a key to the '49, it's yours now. The registration and insurance are taken care of. All that remains is for you to drive it. The Lutheran church hosts a Christmas dinner each year for the elderly or bums drifting through and moms with kids and no family nearby. They always need help serving the hundred or so who show up, want to go with me?" I nodded. "I can call the minister to let him know we'll be there. And.... you can drive us there in your car. YOUR car Roy."

How could I refuse. I was on my way out the door when Drew hollered at me.

"Hey, put a coat on, it's cold this morning. You might want to take a pair of those new gloves along."

There sat the '49 with a big red bow tied to the steering wheel. I started the old girl and sat as she warmed, becoming intoxicated with the very thought that this car was mine. With the engine warmed I drove to the end of the driveway and back. The car drove like a dream, the driveway wasn't long enough to do more than barely get it into second, third gear would come later when we went to town. I parked it with a grin and thoughts of getting some fuzzy dice for the rear-view mirror. I was on cloud nine when I walked through the front door.

Drew looked up from her crocheting, "How was it? Does she still run good? You look comfortable behind the wheel. Maybe I'll scoot next to you on the way home, it'll be like old times for me. Riding with Alvin, my arm on the back of the seat, my fingers playing in his hair."

She stopped talking, grabbed some Kleenex and started dabbing her eyes again. Nothing more was said about the car. Moments later she announced.

"Let's get dressed Roy. Jeans and a flannel will be good for working on the food line. We'll probably end up wearing part of dinner so there's no sense being dressed up. We're leaving in 15, there will be lots to do getting everything ready to start serving at eleven. How about warming the car while we dress."

By the time we left the house the car was pleasantly warm. I eased into first gear and let the clutch out slowly. On the open road I was up to 40 and in third gear within a half mile. It rode as smooth as silk. Drew talked about how much she and Alvin loved riding in that car as she fiddled with the radio dialing in the local AM rock and roll station. We weren't the first volunteers to arrive but fairly close. Mrs. JoHansen was in charge of the kitchen, and I mean in charge. She was barking orders left and right, keeping everyone and everything in order.

We began serving at eleven on the dot with a line of about thirty people waiting. Mostly older retired folks, a few young mothers with littles who I figured were probably divorced without extended family nearby. Those who were simply free loaders and not necessarily needy were easy to spot. Though no one said anything it was apparent they weren't well received. The meal was supposed to be for the indigent, the retired and the needy, not people too damned lazy to cook. As the meal was about to end I noticed an older guy with tattered clothes all bundled up, a raggedy scarf around his neck in an attempt to ward off the cold air. Mrs. JoHansen left the kitchen immediately to help seat him. She then got a plate and served the man. She remained sitting next to him speaking softly.

"What is that about?" I asked Drew.

"That's her dad. He lives in a small cabin in the woods just north of town. He built it by hand when he retired. He lives off the land trapping for extra money and hunting or fishing for most of his food. He does have electricity now but no indoor plumbing or central heat. There's a wood stove that he cooks on and heats the one room cabin."

Her answer left me with more questions than answers. "Where does he go to the bathroom if he doesn't have plumbing? And why does he look like a bum? Won't anyone help him?"

She motioned to keep serving and spoke. "I'll tell you on the way home. When these people are served we should begin washing dishes, the others can handle the few that will straggle in."

I was rinsing, she was putting them in the sink to wash and another older lady was drying. By the time the last of the people were served and we were drying the few remaining dishes we were not only tired but half soaked from the waste up. It was the first time I had seen Drew in a different light, sort of an admirable light. Her blouse soaked the pretty white bra with some lacy stuff along the top edges showed through clearly.

The fabric was tight to her body, her breasts were a lot like mom's, not large, neither were they small. I had an epiphany at that moment, she wasn't just my Aunt Drew, she was a woman, a damned attractive woman. I felt my manhood, or should I say boyhood considering I'd never been with a woman, begin to stiffen. Out of embarrassment I mumbled something about needing the restroom and made haste in the opposite direction. I tried to get my pecker soft enough to piss but that damned thing continued to stand proud. I was able to eventually push it down enough to pee.

When I left the bathroom Drew was standing in the hall with my jacket. "We're done. Let's go home. Leftovers are in the bowl."

When my jacket was on she slid her arm through mine and nudged me toward the door. We weren't a half mile down the road when she slid across the bench seat to the middle. With about six inches between us she began.

"About Morris. When he returned from the Korean conflict in '53 he was a basket case. Drinking heavy, doing drugs, the demons in his head were more than his mind could handle so he stayed stoned most of the time. Molly was twelve at that time, she and her mom Clarissa tried hard but failed at first. Clarissa eventually got him sober and working at the sawmill."

Shifting in the seat she continued.

"Life hit rock bottom when Clarissa died three years later from breast cancer. Molly, Mrs. JoHansen, was sixteen at the time her mom died, she did her best to keep him on the straight and narrow but he was lost to the world. As soon as Molly graduated he changed."

I muttered, "Holy shit."

She cuffed the back of my head, "Language Roy. It doesn't take any intelligence to cuss. That's when he bought six acres of uncleared forest from the Barton's, cleared an acre and used the logs to build his house, all the time still working at the mill. Nights and weekends were spent on that cabin, had it not been for that he'd have been back on the booze and drugs. Took him almost two years to do that. Molly was living with her now husband at that time so he removed himself from the rest of us."

I was thoroughly confused, my almost 19-year-old mind wasn't processing what she was trying to tell me.

"What does that mean? He removed himself?"

As we pulled in the long driveway she patted my thigh, scooted back to her side of the car and told me she'd finish the story inside.

I was pleasantly surprised when she walked into the living room in just jammies, she usually wore a robe tied tightly over them. She sat on the couch about a foot away.

"Where was I? Oh yeah, he checked out. He quit his job at the sawmill and normally doesn't come to town for any reason other than a few staples from the grocery store. He sold his truck and pulls a kids wagon to haul his purchases home, summer or winter, doesn't matter. Molly goes to see him from time to time, he never has much to say but always thanks her for coming. It's a sad situation."

"Yeah but, how does he live?"

"He trapped and sold furs for the first years until he reached social security age, then stopped. What he gets each month is enough to eke out an existence and that's all he wants. This will probably be the last Christmas we'll see him. He's dying from cancer. Him dying will be the first kind thing in his life since Clarissa passed. It's sad, there's no other way to describe it."

Something happened that changed the dynamics of my time with Drew. As she turned away from me reaching for the cup of hot chocolate on the end table the second button of her pajamas opened. When she turned back I had my first glimpse of bare naked tits. All I saw were the tops and cleavage, but it was enough to give me an instant hardon. I quickly grabbed a pillow and set it on my lap with my hands crossed on top trying to keep my erection in check. It wasn't working very well.

Drew looked at me funnily, then down at her front and grabbed her PJ top. "Oh, sorry. I should have been more careful Roy, after all, you are a man. You are a man, aren't you?"

I nodded as my mind debated. A man, she called me a man. My cock was telling me I was at the same time my mind was telling me I wasn't. When the hot chocolate was finished she took the cups and went into the kitchen, by the time she returned I'd softened enough to stand and not be embarrassed. As I lay in bed I couldn't stop seeing the tops of her breasts and cleavage. I didn't masturbate often, at least up until that point. Whereas I took my laundry down Monday evening, she would put hers in the laundry room hamper every morning.

My devious mind was working overtime that night. Did I dare do what I was contemplating, or just grab some Kleenex and shoot my wad in there? The devil on my left shoulder won. I snuck down the stairs, explored the laundry basket until I found the treasure and quickly scampered to my room. Dropping my underwear I sat against the headboard with my legs spread and a pair of her soft nylon panties wrapped around my dick. Slowly I slid the slick material up and down my throbbing hardon, the precum was leaking onto the panties as I stroked. It seemed to take no time and I was filling the crotch of those panties to overflowing.

I came so hard it left me momentarily dazed and completely out of breath. The panties were soaked with thick creamy semen, it was no longer just in the crotch. Squeezing the last few drops from my dick I wiped the residue with Kleenex, snuck down the stairs and buried the panties in the middle hoping Consuelo would grab a handful of laundry without inspecting. I certainly didn't want Drew to know I was beating my meat using her panties as the depository.

Over the course of the next four or five weeks I noticed Drew's indoor attire was more relaxed than previously. In fact, I could have sworn that on more than one occasion the top two buttons of her jammies were left open on purpose. I also realized she had figured out why a pillow was on my lap most nights. I had begun sneaking down to the laundry basket every four or five nights at that point. The end result was always flooding the fabric of her worn panties with young potent seed. It was a night ten days before my birthday that my heart did a flip flop while rummaging through the basket looking for panties.

I had seen the newest phenomenon in women's underwear in catalogs but never in person. Bikini panties, and there they were, a pair of sky-blue silky feeling nylon panties. I actually jacked off twice before putting them back imagining my aunt standing in front of me wearing them. I had now graduated from seeing my aunt as a woman to seeing her in a sexual manner. Other than the few tit shots she supposedly hadn't realized she was showing me there had been no other indication of her being sexual.

Work was keeping my mind in check during the day, it was those evenings on the couch watching TV or reading that were killing me. With my birthday two days away she reached over, put her hand on mine and announced.

"We're going out for your birthday, since it's a Saturday we can sleep late the next day."

I chuckled to myself, sleep late? Her sleep late was maybe seven, mine was much later. Late in the afternoon on Saturday she told me she wanted me to dress up. I mentioned I didn't have anything fancy she responded.

"I have something for you. Meet me downstairs by the bathroom in ten minutes."

When I reached the bottom step and turned right there stood Drew with a suit. When I reached her she held it against my body.

"Damn, I was right. It will fit."

I stared at her, "Language" I said. We smiled and laughed. "I want you to wear this, it will fit you nicely. I'm not trying to reinvent Alvin in you, it simply makes no sense having it hang in my closet, he'd have wanted you to wear it."

With the suit and dress shirt on I approached her with the tie. I didn't have a clue about tying it other than the wide part was supposed to be in the front. With deft fingers she had it tied and was sliding it to my neck in a minute's time. Lightly patting my chest she backed away.

"You look good Roy. You'll do."

It was my turn to observe her in a dark blue pencil dress, at least that's what I thought they called it. I especially loved the sheer sparkly stockings, listening to the faint swoosh of silk rubbing together when she stepped back. The neckline was kind of a scoop thing that didn't reveal anything, but you certainly knew it was under there. The dark blue short heels put everything in proportion. At the closet she turned for me to help with her coat, it was the first time I stared at her cute butt. It wasn't pronounced nor was it flat, it seemed to have the perfect curvature for her body frame.

She insisted we take the '49 and that she sit close to me on the way home. No hanky panky, just a closeness I hadn't experienced before as we talked. Inside I was loving every second, at the same time I was thinking about anything other than her presence to keep my dick from getting hard. I think she sensed my dilemma, asking me to drop her off at the porch she suggested I put the car away. Before the door closed, she leaned in.

"Will you meet me in the living room for hot chocolate?" She asked. I nodded. "Okay, 15 minutes, dress comfy."

Sweatpants weren't a thing then, I normally slept in my underwear, so I wore a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. She was in her customary pajamas that somehow seemed sexier than normal. When she left to get hot chocolate from the kitchen the second button was closed, when she returned it was open, although she was leaning back so I couldn't see her chest. Our conversation went in a direction I never expected.

"You're 19 now aren't you?" I nodded. "I thought so. And never been with a girl huh?" I nodded again. "Well it's 1964, that ends here and now."

I protested, "I've never so much as held a girl's hand other than you and I sure haven't kissed a girl. Girls don't want to go out with a runt like me."

Moving closer she looked at me, putting her finger under my chin as she admonished me.

"That's rubbish Roy. You may have been a runt, but not anymore. Listen, who you were is not who you are now. You're becoming a solid man, one of integrity and respect. You certainly aren't ugly, any girl in her right mind would be happy with a guy like you."

What she did next threw me for a loop. Her hand went under my shirt and lightly pinched a nipple. It felt different and good at the same time.

Withdrawing her hand she asked. "Did you like that Roy."

I could barely speak, "Yes, it felt kind of good."

"Then that's exactly what I want you to do to mine."

As the last button of her top opened she moved the fabric to the sides. Oh shit, my cock was hard and aching, I was sure I'd begun to literally salivate. They were so perfect, so round, they stuck out at least two inches or more from her chest, I wasn't sure if I was breathing any longer. Taking my hands in hers she lifted them to her breasts.