My Nephew Got into My Knickers

I was fixed with another glare from my niece, and was advised that it wasn't only women and girls who got periods, other non-binary genders could get them too, as could men. When I asked her how this was possible if they lacked ovaries, fallopian tubes, a uterus, a birth canal and a vagina, apparently they could 'feel' when they were having a period and this was what counted most rather than physical menstruation. Lucky I was an accountant and not a gynecologist given my complete ignorance as to how men and women's bodies worked!

"Talking about my sister, I never apologized for the poem that she wrote and which you all had to sit through at Christmas," said Cody. "So sorry that Tamara wrote the poem, sorry that you had to hear it, and sorry that I didn't apologize before now."

"That's okay, you had to hear it too," I said, cringing at the memory.

"Tell me about it." Cody shrugged his shoulders and looked embarrassed.

"Maybe your parents' house guests and their sons or daughters or whatever you call non-binary or gender-free children these days might like it?" I suggested.

"Yeah, it wouldn't surprise me," Cody agreed.

Maybe they would like Tamara's poem. I sure didn't. It was a rambling, non-rhyming, sycophantic, nonsensical and simpering apology on behalf of all white people on Earth to all black people on Earth that went on close to half an hour, although it seemed like six hours. Whether people who were natives of the Americas or of Asian origin would have been offended or relieved at not being mentioned in the poem was not clear, I would have bet on the latter. In something of an irony, if a black person was unfortunate enough to hear the poem they would most likely feel insulted by it.

Listening to the poem was painful, absolute complete and total agony. If I took all my menstrual cramps from every period I had had from my menarche to the present day, my labor pains from both times I gave birth and the time in 1992 when my appendix burst and I had to be rushed to hospital for emergency surgery and combined them together, it would have been far less painful than listening to Tamara's so-called poetry.

But much as I was annoyed by niece's poem, I was far angrier at my sister and brother-in-law for not only allowing this nonsense but encouraging it. Rhonda spent most of her childhood bitter and resentful and wrongly believing that our mother favored me over her, being the stage mother to my starlet, yet in something of a paradox she was in many ways acting like a stage mother with Tamara.

The only problem is that Tamara had no discernable talents much like her mother years earlier, yet Rhonda was encouraging and enabling her daughter's woke attention seeking while having no time for her level-headed and talented older son. The only place that Tamara's anti-racism poem belonged was in the trash, preferably having been shredded first, but this was just one in a line of similar things.

At school, Tamara had been 'triggered' by having a teacher correct her homework in red pen. Guess what? My sister arranged for the school to abolish corrections in red ink. Tamara was concerned that kids applauding could upset other kids with anxiety issues. Clapping was replaced with something called jazz hands. The school library had a book that deeply upset Tamara to the point she was in tears in the deputy principal's office. The offending book? It was an atlas that showed old maps of different eras, one of which was of colonial-era Africa, where the uncharted regions in the south west of the continent were called 'Negro Land'. Not to worry, the offending book was soon removed so it didn't upset any more special snowflake SJW's. And as an added measure, a 'safe space' was set up at the school for students if they got triggered by something like the horrible, racist atlas.

My sister proudly posted about all of these things online with syrup sweet praise for the talentless Tamara. Sometimes Paul or his wife Lisa would see these posts before I did and message me with something like, "Emily, can you believe this fucking shit?" or words to similar effect.

Rhonda also used social media to support Tamara's art, which were described as 'feelings paintings', basically splashes of different colored paint on paper, something a toddler could have done. Mum was the one with the artistic talent in the family, and since she and Dad had retired she could pursue her hobby more and paint her wonderful watercolors. They had gone on holiday to Western Australia where Mum had painted pictures of the Swan River and city skyline from Kings Park, a quokka on Rottnest Island, the Pinnacles rock landforms north of Perth and the stunning wildflowers in bloom in the Wheatbelt. They had also gone to the Northern Territory where Mum painted a Darwin sunset over the waterfront, a crocodile sunning himself on a riverbank and a water buffalo in the tropical vegetation.

Mum found herself in a difficult position when Rhonda wanted her endorsement of Tamara's 'feelings paintings' as wonderful works of arts. But Mum was never a parent who believed in giving praise when it wasn't warranted and rightfully said that her granddaughter's art was rubbish. This set Rhonda into a furious rage, ranting about how growing up Dad was totally preoccupied with Paul's football and how she was nothing but a stage mother who had lived vicariously through me and my singing and dancing career as a child and teenager, and how nothing had changed years later. Mum stood her ground and Dad backed her up and they didn't speak to Rhonda for several months, and it was only when Rhonda wanted something from our parents that she made up with them.

Thinking about how Mum and Dad were such great parents and treated us all fairly growing up but somehow ended up with a social justice warrior, a theater kid and a star footballer in their brood made me think of my own kids, and my phone sounded to indicate I had a message.

"Ben and Katie have landed and are on their way to the hotel in Brisbane," I said, showing my daughter's text to Cody.

"I bet they'll have a great time," said Cody. "I've always wanted to go up there, to the theme parks and everything, see Brisbane and the Gold Coast."

I had been to Queensland a number of times, one time with my kids and Paul and Lisa's kids however the most recent time two years ago when I went to Brisbane and the Gold Coast it was for work not pleasure. However, I sure wasn't complaining, who wouldn't want to get out of a cold and wet Melbourne winter and to the sunshine state for a week even if it was only for work? "You'll definitely have to get up there sometime, you know when you leave school perhaps you can save up? Queensland is great."

"Whenever we go anywhere on holidays, it's always to do some stupid woke thing my parents or sister want to do, never to relax or have fun," said Cody as my cat sat looking at him, confused why the two young people who should be there weren't and why another young person who wasn't normally here was in her house.

What Cody said was 100 percent true, and I smiled at my nephew. "Well Cody, how about we treat your stay here with me as a holiday? A special woke free holiday. No vegans, no transgender or gender neutral people, no political correctness, no virtue signaling, no leftie politics, no climate change and no soy-boys."

Cody laughed and I could see the relief on his face. "Thanks Aunty Emily, I'd really like that."

*

Cody and I sat talking a while longer. I thought he might have work or football on the weekend, but as it turned out he had a free schedule. It got later and darker and we went to bed, me taking a quick shower and changing into an oversized tee-shirt over a pair of fresh white panties. As I got comfortable in bed, I felt thirsty and made my way into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Walking on my bare feet the kitchen light was already illuminated, and I entered to the room to the sight of my nephew also getting a drink of water. My tall and handsome 18-year-old nephew was at the sink wearing only boxer shorts. His muscular and fit body was on display as was his masculine hair chest, and he looked even more like he was a strong rustic alpha Australian male who belonged from an earlier time than the one into which he was born.

I was unable to keep from looking at the front of Cody's boxer shorts, and from what the fabric was covering I was even less convinced that Sven was Cody's biological father. Young Cody didn't have a girlfriend at the moment, but when he did that girl was going to be one lucky young lady.

Then I felt something else, between my legs and in my knickers, my clitoris tingling as my vagina responded. I stopped short. This was inappropriate, I was Cody's aunt, I shouldn't be looking at or thinking about my nephew this way. What was up with me? I shook my head to clear it as I joined Cody at the sink to get a glass of water.

"Well goodnight again Cody," I said as I finished my water and put the glass on the dish strainer to dry.

"Goodnight again, Aunty Emily," Cody, putting his own glass on the strainer.

Turning around, I got an itch on one of the toes on my left bare foot, and without thinking bent over to scratch it. With Cody looking in the same direction as me, he couldn't help but see as my tee-shirt rode up to reveal my white knickers, and no doubt he would have been able to see the shape of my bum and between my legs the outline of my vagina.

Realizing my mistake, I immediately stood up as Cody looked at the ceiling a little too quick, obviously he had seen more of me than he had ever thought he would, or probably wanted to. Not wanting to make an awkward situation even worse for my nephew I made haste for my bedroom on my bare feet.

I tossed and turned a bit, before reasoning that it had been a long and busy day which took an unusual turn, the reason I was having these unusual thoughts was probably because I was over tired, nothing more and nothing less. It was an awkward moment, no need to get carried away with it. Plus I was at the midway point of my monthly cycle, probably ovulating, so hormones and all that.

I went to sleep, but in my dreams these thoughts were obviously playing in my subconscious. I dreamed that I was on the toilet with my knickers down, and that a man was in the bathroom watching me but his face I could not see until the end, when my mystery voyeur turned out to be my nephew Cody.

Stage 2 of the dream was similar, only this time I was naked in the shower, with a male voyeur with an obscured face looking at me over the top of the shower screen, watching me as I washed my pussy, my bare breasts and my bare bottom. Then once again, the face of the man spying on me while I was showering again became clear, and once again it was Cody.

My dream then jumped again to the bedroom, as I lay naked on the bed with my legs apart as a man fucked me hard in the missionary position. This time, I could fully see the man I was making love to, and it was my ex-husband Mark. This wasn't that unusual, even though we had been divorced for well over a decade now he had featured in my more erotic dreams for years afterwards, although the frequency had faded as time passed.

I could feel my orgasm approaching and Mark fucked me harder and harder still, only then he faded away and instead of Mark having sex with me it was now Cody on top of me, my nephew pumping me hard as I came and also awoke with a start, sitting up in bed.

It was morning, still dark outside but the numbers on my clock radio were illuminated at 5.15 am. I hadn't quite reached orgasm, but I was damn close to it, my vagina soaking wet and my knickers very damp. Getting out of bed, I again wondered what was wrong with me, having erotic dreams about my nephew. That was wrong on every level.

Rubbing sleep from my green eyes and pushing my long red hair back from my face, I walked barefoot into my ensuite bathroom and closed and locked the door. Lifting up my shirt, I pulled down my knickers and sat on the toilet, the splashing tinkling sound of me urinating filling the bathroom as I emptied my full bladder.

Continuing to pee, the yellow liquid flowing out of my urethra like a river, I reasoned to myself that my dreams were just that, dreams. I'd had weird dreams before. Like one time a dreamed I was tram surfing up Collins Street in Melbourne's CBD. I wouldn't go tram surfing in real life unless I wanted to electrocute myself, it was just my imagination, that I dreamed about climbing on top of a tram didn't mean I wanted to do it in real life. Much like the time I dreamed I was at work doing a presentation dressed only in my bra and my knickers. I wouldn't of course go to work only wearing my underwear, and me dreaming about it was just that, dreaming about something that wouldn't happen in real life.

Finally finishing having my pee, I unwound some toilet paper and wiped my pussy, the toilet tissue sticking to my vulva thanks to my erotic night's sleep. Standing up off the toilet and flushed it, pulling up my panties and feeling that I had very sticky knickers. I would need a change of undies that was for sure.

After washing my hands, I left the bathroom and went into the lounge where Cody was already awake and dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt. Although much of the time it seemed like he should have lived in another era, in other ways he was a typical teenager from the 2010s, so completely absorbed in his phone that he only looked up when I stood right next to him.

"Oh hi Aunty Emily," he said.

"Hi Cody, did you sleep okay? You're up early."

My nephew nodded. "Yes thanks, I just tend to be an early riser. I'm not like Mum, Dad and Tamara, they usually like to sleep in. How about you?"

"I slept pretty well." No way was I ever going to tell him the details of my lurid dreams unless I wanted him to freak out completely. I also thought that the way my sister, brother-in-law and niece liked to sleep in might be caused by lack of energy due to their vegan diets.

"So, what are you doing today Aunty Emily? Is there anything I can help you with?'

"Thanks Cody," I said. "I always like to go running first thing on Saturday. Would you like to come too?"

Cody looked excited. "I love running, it keeps me fit for football. I've brought me running gear with me. I'll just go and get ready."

"I'll see you in five," I said, going back into my bedroom after feeding the cat where I changed out of my sleep shirt and my pussy-stained panties. I did quite a lot of fitness and pulled out some comfortable cotton panties I often wore when exercising, then got out some active-wear. I told myself I shouldn't be wearing a lycra fitness top that exposed my midriff and naval combined with very short shorts when exercising with my teenage nephew, but was unable to stop myself from putting them on, followed by my socks and running shoes.

Tying my red hair back into a pony-tail, I headed into the living room where Cody's tall and muscular young body was now wearing a tank top and shorts, and like me running shoes and socks.

"I'll be glad when they put the clocks back to normal next week," I said as Cody and I headed out and stretched up before our run. "Daylight saving is all well and good in mid-summer but get to March and April and it's too dark in the mornings."

I felt good having my tall and fit nephew running beside me as it made me feel secure running through the dark with a man beside me. The run should have cleared my head, but still I found myself checking out my nephew's fine teenage body. And when I ran slightly in front of him, I hoped that he was checking out my lycra-clad bum complete with visible panty lines and liking what he saw. I told myself not to be weird, I was his aunty. Of course he wasn't checking me out.

Returning back to the house sweaty and breathless, Cody and I stretched down then went to take our showers, me going into the ensuite bathroom and Cody the main one. I felt the water running down my bare breasts as I washed them and felt my nipples tingle as I imagined that Cody was the one touching my boobs rather than me.

When I washed my pussy, my red pubic hair full of soap and bubbles, I imagined Cody was looking over the top of the shower perving at me like in my dreams last night watching as I splashed plenty of soap and water into the private area between my legs.

My bare toes clenched on the shower floor as my fingers touched my clitoris and then my anus as I washed myself around my rear opening. Probably I should have turned the water onto cold to cool me down as I fantasized about going into the other bathroom and leaping under that shower with my nephew.

Turning off the shower, I dried myself then put on some new clothes for the day. I put on a white bra, then a pair of white bikini-style panties with pink leg and waist elastic. In my bra and knickers I told myself to wear something more conservative but given it would be quite a warm and sunny day in Melbourne today and that something seemed to have knocked my thinking out of normal alignment I could not resist taking out a white blouse that showed off a bit of my cleavage and a short flowery mini-skirt that came well above my knees.

Sliding my feet into some open white shoes, I thought about how I had once worn these clothes to my daughter's school for no reason other than it was a very hot and humid day and Katie had complained afterwards that boys in her class were saying how hot I was and that pervy dads and male teachers were checking me out and that it was really embarrassing and asking me to wear something that attracted less male attention in the future.

I met Cody in the hallway, he was dressed in a short-sleeved shirt, jeans and sneakers and I could see my nephew's brown eyes take in my blouse and short skirt and he quickly looked at the floor to avoid embarrassment. As we sat having breakfast in the kitchen Cody asked, "So Aunty Emily is there anything I can do to help you around the house today?"

"Thanks Cody, I was going to do a load of laundry, and reorganize my laundry shelves," I said. "If you could help with the shelves that would be great. After that, would you like to go out to St. Kilda, then to the market in South Melbourne and from there into the city? We can have a fun day out."

"That sounds great," said Cody, who accompanied me into the laundry and set to work removing the items from my laundry shelves ahead of dusting them.

I stood at the washing machine preparing to put in a week's worth of clothes. I could - should - have done this quickly but instead slowly pulled certain items out of the hamper very slowly and put them in the machine. And these garments? My bras and my knickers of course.

I could see that Cody was trying not to look at my underwear each time I put a bra or a pair of panties into the machine but was taking in quick glances; did he like what he saw? The double cotton saddles of my panties showed creamy feminine stains from my vagina self-cleansing during the days, and I wasn't shy about Cody seeing my panty saddles. Did my nephew see and like my pussy stains and think about the private areas between my legs? I hoped so.

Finally all my clothes were in the washer and Cody and I worked on tidying up the laundry shelves then some housework, me doing the vacuuming and Cody some dusting. The beeping of the washing machine told me my load of laundry was ready, so took my clothes out and into the back garden to hang them out to dry.

As I pegged my bras and my panties on the line to dry, I had some moments of clarity as to maybe why I was thinking so inappropriately. I had remained single since my divorce and had not been intimate with another man after my former husband. The only man to get to see my vagina in the years since was my gynecologist. Friends had encouraged me to sign up online to meet somebody else, but no way was I doing that. The internet was filled with creeps, predators, perverts and pedophiles and having two kids this was a serious concern.