Renaissance of the Heart

"I should be doing laundry instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Go get what you want washed and I'll do it," she said.

I hurried up to my bedroom, still dwelling on my conversation with my aunt, and gathered up some clothes for her to wash. I left my room, holding a few pairs of jeans, t-shirts, and underwear. As I was approaching the stairs I heard her call out to me.

"I'm in here," she said.

I turned towards her and Uncle Wayne's bedroom, and saw her in there. She was dropping a pair of my uncle's pants and a shirt in a yellow plastic laundry basket on the floor beside the bed. "Just put that stuff in here," she said.

I walked over to the laundry basket and dropped the bundle of clothes I was holding in to the basket. Just as I did that, my aunt tossed a blouse of hers and a bra atop the pile. I froze, my eyes locking on the bra. It was white, and the upper halves of the panels were made of lace. My cock began to stiffen as I imagined my her wearing it. It was only when I heard her soft laugh that I looked up again.

Aunt Lisa was picking up a couple of t-shirts from a chair in the corner to my left. She walked over beside me and dropped the t-shirts in the basket. "I thought men were only interested in what was inside my bras," she teased as her eyes grew a shade brighter.

I felt my cheeks getting warm, then I gave her a brazen grin. "I was just thinking that it doesn't look big enough to hold everything of yours," I retorted.

My aunt seemed surprised by my bold comment, but laughed. She glanced down at herself. "Well, it is a little tight, since I gained that weight over the winter," she admitted.

"Are you bragging or complaining?" I shot back.

Another laugh left her mouth, and Aunt Lisa said "Well, I'm not going to complain because by boobs have gotten bigger," she said with a sexy grin. "Some women have to pay to have that done."

"I bet Uncle Wayne hasn't complained either," I said.

Her smile faded and she sighed. "I don't think he notices anymore. Either that, or he doesn't care," she said, sounding melancholy.

"I find that hard to believe," I told her. "I would expect that he wouldn't be able to leave you alone for a minute."

"So did I, at first," she said. "But he barely shows any interest anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I muttered, avoiding her listless eyes for a moment.

"Don't be sorry; it's not your fault," she said.

"Well, it's not yours either," I assured her. I thought for a few moments, then decided to be perfectly frank. "I know I probably shouldn't say this, but I think you look great, Aunt Lisa."

Aunt Lisa's eyes regained their shimmer and the smile returned to her face. "Thanks, Doug," she said. "That's awfully sweet of you."

"I'm not saying it to be sweet. I'm saying it because it's the truth," I told her. Again, I struggled with my thoughts, then said "When we were outside, I wanted to say something when I saw how sad you looked, but I was afraid that you'd be offended, or think it was inappropriate for me to say to you."

Aunt Lisa's eyes widened in surprise slightly and she stepped closer, seeming curious. "No, of course I wouldn't be offended. You can say whatever you want to me, Doug," she said.

"Well, I was going to say that I think you're really pretty, and you look even better with a few more pounds on you," I said, then gave her a sly grin. "I mean, the extra weight definitely went to all the right places."

My aunt laughed. "You mean here and here," she said, pointing to her right breast, then her left, with her eyes and fingertip as she stuck her chest out for emphasis.

I felt my cock begin to stiffen as my eyes lingered on my aunt's ample bosom, filling out her tank top. I smiled and said "If you're going to gain weight, that's the place you want it."

I could feel the tension building as my aunt and I stood beside the bed. I was growing increasingly horny, and was afraid that she would notice it, or at least how my erection was beginning to push out at my jeans.

After a few more seconds of us struggling for something to say Aunt Lisa said "I suppose I should get this laundry started."

"Let me carry the basket down," I said as I bent down to pick up the laundry basket.

Just as I bent down to pick up the laundry basket Aunt Lisa leaned over to grab it too. Within moments I found myself staring down the front of her tank top. Her heavy breasts swayed a bit, held snugly by a plain white bra. I could feel my cock stiffen as I reached for the handle of the basket, still looking at her firm mounds, barely concealed by her thin bra.

"I'll bring this down to the laundry room," I said as I picked up the basket, avoiding my aunt's eyes.

I could feel the plastic basket pressed to my throbbing shaft as I brought the laundry down to the basement where the washing machine and dryer were. Aunt Lisa followed. I hoisted the basket up on the edge of the washing machine and took a step back.

One by one my aunt began removing the things from the basket and dropped them in the washer. When she picked up the white lace bra I'd been looking at in her room she stopped and smiled at me.

"Here's your favourite bra," she teased, holding it up for me to see. "Unless... you've found a new favourite one in the last few minutes."

"Huh?" I grunted as I hooded my eyes.

Aunt Lisa dropped the bra into the washer, then turned back to me. "I meant the one I'm wearing," she explained. "I mean, you must have gotten a pretty good look at it up there in the bedroom." She gave me a sultry smile as she folded her arms over her midriff.

"Oh... yeah," I admitted with a wistful sigh.

"And..." she prodded as her eyes widened.

"I still like the other one better," I said, then gave her a bright smile to hide my nervousness.

"Well, I'll wear it one of these days, just for you," she promised. "Now let's go back outside." She motioned with her head as she turned to leave the room.

When Aunt Lisa and I went back out on the patio it seemed even hotter than it had been earlier. She joined me on the bench again and stretched her legs out. When she noticed me running my eyes up and down them a wide smile broke out on her face.

"So, I guess you really think I look okay?" she asked timidly, seeming to need more reassuring, and maybe fishing for compliments.

I nodded. "Of course. A lot better than okay," I told her.

"Thanks, Doug," she said. Then a few seconds she rolled her eyes, seeming nervous. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she said.

"Doing what?" I asked, wondering if we were still having the same conversation.

"Turning to my teenage nephew for reassurance about how I look," she elaborated. "Don't you think that's a little.... weird?" She turned her head towards me, seeming worried or concerned.

I shook my head. "No, of course not," I told her. "We've always been supportive of each other -- ever since you guys took me in when Mom and Dad died. Do you think it's weird for me to think that you're pretty?"

Aunt Lisa's mouth tightened and there seemed to be turmoil in her sapphire eyes. "But that wasn't quite what we were taking about earlier... upstairs," she said, then pulled at the corner of her mouth.

"Sure it was," I insisted as I grew nervous, recalling the conversation.

"Yeah, but we were talking about my boobs too... after I caught you looking at my bra in the laundry basket," she said.

I let out a quick burst of nervous laughter, then said "But youare pretty, Aunt Lisa."

"Thank you, Doug. That really is good to hear," Aunt Lisa said then thought for a moment. "I guess I just feel guilty though." She was staring down at her hands and fumbling with her wedding ring as she spoke.

"Guilty? Why?" I asked.

She twisted around on the bench to face me. Slowly, her eyes moved up from her lap until they met mine. I expected to see sorrow or regret in them, but instead I saw longing. "Because... I kind of like the other stuff too." She spoke in a hush, as though saying the wirds pained her.

"What other stuff? I asked.

"Doug, you know..." she began, sounding a little irritated. "The way you look at me sometimes... the comments you make -- like earlier in the bedroom." She sighed, and it looked as though all her defenses were down. "And you know that it's not just over the past few days. You've been doing it for a couple of years."

Aunt Lisa's words stung. Not because she was being harsh or mean, but because she was right. "I'm sorry," I told her, feeling genuinely contrite. "I'll be good from now on... and watch what I say." I searched her eyes, hoping to find some sign of relief or forgiveness. Instead, I saw more turmoil.

"It's not that, Doug. I don't expect you to be sorry. I'm not sorry -- that's the problem," she told me.

"But it's not like you have anything to be sorry for," I told her.

Aunt Lisa turned her body towards me. She bent her right leg and brought her knee up on the bench. It rubbed along my thigh. Without even thinking about it I found myself staring at her soft, tanned skin. I followed it up to where her shorts were covering the most forbidden place for me to look, or even think about. I wondered what her panties looked like. I imagined them pulled taut over her soft, pink lips.

"Being a parent is a huge responsibility. I may not have given birth to you, Doug, but it's still up to me to do what I consider what's right, and what's best for you. And I don't think it's healthy for me to give in to the feelings you have for me," she said.

"You've been a perfect mother to me," I told her. "I can't imagine Mom doing a better job if she were still alive. So don't ever feel guilty, or question it just because I have feelings that I probably shouldn't. You never did anything to encourage me that way, and I'm eighteen; I'm not a kid." I stopped briefly and gave her hand a squeeze before continuing. "I'm just a pervert," I added with a laugh. "Besides, you're beautiful."

Aunt Lisa laughed. "Well, I don't think I'm beautiful, but thanks. And if you're a pervert, then you come by it honestly," she said. "I think there are a few perverts in the family." She became silent and thoughtful, then asked "Did you really mean it -- that I've done as good a job raising you as Diane would have?"

I gave her an emphatic nod. "Yes. Absolutely," I said.

In an instant I noticed tears pooling in my aunt's brilliant blue eyes. She fluttered them a few times and tucked her trembling lower lip into her mouth. She wiped the back of her forefinger over her watery eyes and smiled lovingly. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Doug," she said in a shaky voice. "Thank-you."

"It's true, Aunt Lisa. It's not flattery," I said. "Uncle Wayne has been a great dad too. He should be proud of himself."

My aunt's lip was quivering a little more now. She moved closer to me and threw her arms around my shoulders, clinging to me. She buried her face in my neck as her hand glided along my spine. I could feel her tears on my skin, wetting my neck. Then she pressed her lips to my cheek and kissed me as she held the back of my head.

My arms were around her waist and I ran my right hand up her back, tenderly rubbing her as we embraced. My cock was throbbing as I concentrated on how her breasts felt against me and I began to worry that she would look down at my lap and notice my erection.

After well over a minute had passed my aunt said "This is so nice -- you holding me like this. I hate how some nights when I to go to bed and Wayne's asleep, or doesn't hold me."

"Oh..." I grunted, unsure of what else to say at first. "Well, I can imagine he's tired after working all day and --"

"Don't bother trying to make excuses for him, Doug," she said, cutting me off and sounding angry. Then she relaxed and said "Just keep holding me, please."

I did just that, wrapping my left arm tighter around her waist and running my right hand over her back. My cock throbbed in my shorts and I wished I could have reached down to rub it. She let out a contented sigh and settled into my embrace, more like a lover than an aunt.

My aunt and I remained there for about an hour, silently holding one another. It was only later when she glanced at her watch that she sat up, pushing her hair back over her shoulders.

"I better get that laundry hung out," she said.

I followed her back down to the laundry room, then carried the basket of wet clothes out for her to hang on the clothesline. I stood beside her, talking about all sorts of things while she pinned sheets an clothes to the line.

Once the clothes had been hung out we went back inside. My aunt announced that she was going in to the living room to read for a while. She said that she'd gotten a book from the local library and was eager to finish it. I thought that maybe her wanting some time alone had less to do with wanting to read than some solitude so she could sort out her feelings. Whatever the reason, I did not want to intrude, so went up to my room to listen to music.

When I heard my uncle's truck pull in the yard around suppertime I went down. I was beginning to get hungry and could already smell food that my aunt was cooking. The three of us had supper while my uncle told Aunt Lisa about his day. Once we had eaten and the kitchen had been tidied we went to watch television.

I watched television with my aunt and uncle that evening, but paid little attention to it. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, ideas and emotions. I was the last to go to bed that night. Later, as I lay in the semi-darkness of my bedroom, stroking my cock, I felt confident that Aunt Lisa and I were growing closer, although not in a way that was condoned by society.

###

The next day I was in my room, lying on my bed, reading a book and listening to music. It was around one o'clock and I was bored and horny. I wished that Aunt Lisa needed to go out for groceries or something so I could jerk off without worrying about getting caught. But when we ate lunch a half hour earlier she never mentioned having to run any errands. What I didn't plan on was something much better than time alone. Something that would be the beginning of the most glorious period of my life so far.

When I looked up from my book and saw my Aunt Lisa in the doorway to my room I felt my heart leap. She was wearing a pair of faded red shorts, pink sneakers with no socks, and a pale blue halter top. Her halter had a deep V-neck that displayed her tanned upper chest. Experience had taught me it would also provide a thrilling view of a good portion of her breasts when she leaned over. I had become familiar with Aunt Lisa's summer clothes, and that halter top was one of my favourites.

"Feel like picking some blueberries with me?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, dropping my book on the bed beside me.

At the southern side of the property was a field about two acres in size. My uncle never used it for anything or tended it. He sometimes talked about selling it as a house lot, but never did. In the summer the grass turned golden and dry, standing almost knee-high in places. There was a row of spruce trees that Uncle Wayne's father had planted as a windbreak at the edge of the field, a couple of minute's walk from the house. In the field were bushes of wild blueberries that my aunt would pick every summer.

My Aunt Lisa loved to cook, and was very good at it. One of my favourite recipes of hers was always blueberry pie, made from the blueberries we picked in that field. She saved old ice cream containers, and we would go out to the field and fill them with berries. She would freeze some of the berries so we could have pies in the winter. That was a treat I always looked forward to.

Spending time with Aunt Lisa picking blueberries would be even more thrilling than staring at the well-worn pages of Playboy, and I followed her like a puppy down to the kitchen. We each got a large empty ice cream container from a cupboard below the counter and went outside.

Aunt Lisa's black hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing a baseball cap. Her skin was tanned from her time in the sun. She looked like a bronze goddess. My aunt's attire was nothing out of the ordinary though. She spent a lot of time in her flower and vegetable gardens, and loved being in the sun. Once spring arrived she seldom wore long pants and had a collection of tank tops, halters and sun dresses that got a lot of usage. What had changed though was how I took notice of her, and how my body responded to the sight of her. I had always found my aunt pretty, but it was in an innocent way -- like how someone admires their mother. Once adolescence had me in it's grip I began regarding my aunt in an entirely different way.

Once my aunt and I arrived at the row of spruce trees we passed between a gap in them and into the field. We began picking blueberries, each working our way in different directions from one bush to another. Her back was to me, which meant she would not be able to see how my erection tented my shorts. After a while it died away and I concentrated on filling my ice cream container. But I still took the occasional look back at her as she bent over the bushes and ran my eyes up her legs to her firm ass. Her breasts hung down and swayed as she filled the plastic container in her hand. My erection returned and I wished I was standing in front of her so I had a better view.

It took me the better part of an hour to get my container a little over half-full. By then, sweat was beginning to soak my t-shirt and my back was sore. My muscles ached, but I kept reminding myself how delicious the pies that my aunt would bake would be. That was my motivation. She too seemed to be feeling the effects of bending over in the blazing sun. From the corner of my eye I saw her stand up and press her hand to her lower back. She let out a groan and moved her head in a tight circle, trying to loosen the knots in her neck.

"Are you okay?" I turned around to her, concerned by her cry of pain as she stood up.

"Yeah -- just kind of sore from all this bending over," my aunt said. "How many do you have picked?"

I walked over to show her my container. She surveyed it, then looked in hers. She had picked about as much as I had so far, if not a little more. "That should be enough, for today anyway. I can make two pies with that, and we can come back another day for more," she said.

I was relieved by her decision, and sat down on the tall grass. I placed the container of berries on the dense grass to my left and stretched my neck and back. Aunt Lisa sat down to my right. She was sitting cross-legged, with her palms planted on the ground on either side of her. She arched her back and twisted her head about, wincing.

"It's a good thing I love blueberry pie so much, or this wouldn't be worth it," she said.

"I was kind of thinking the same thing a little while ago," I replied.

My aunt relaxed and rested her forearms on her bare thighs. She was leaning over a little, and from the corner of my eye I could see most of her right breast as I peered inside her halter. I noticed where the tan line was on her soft skin, just inches from where I guessed her areola began. Her nipple pushed out at the blue material covering it, and I wished I could see it too.

I stared in to her halter again, surveying her exposed breast. No way would my hands ever accommodate her firm globes now, I thought to myself, although I wanted to try. My cock was rock hard again, so I covered it with my folded arms. Aunt Lisa had closed her eyes as she basked in the sun and I became braver. My eyes never left the inside of her halter until I heard her speak.

"If Wayne saw you looking at me like that, he'd be jealous." Her voice was soft and teasing -- not harsh or angry, like I would have expected it to be if she caught me with my eyes where they shouldn't be. She also had a smile on her face.