Twenty Cups Ch. 03

Lia and I flinched at Emma's language. We caught each other's eyes. Lia said, "I just feel sorry for you."

"Oh, I know. Ugh," Emma groaned, "I can't imagine anything worse than having my aunt check out my junk."

They both watched me. I shrugged, resigned. "Whatever."

"Why didn't Mom stand up for you?" Lia asked.

I shrugged again.

Emma said, "She's never stood up to Aunt Blair. Mom just lets her walk all over her."

"I can't wait 'till she leaves," Lia said. "She's a disgusting person."

"And what a wierdo, too—going on cruises by herself? What is that?" Emma wondered.

"Why hasn't she ever invited us to go?" I asked.

Lia shook her head and shrugged.

"Who would even want to go?" Emma demanded. "She doesn't even invite any friends, Mom says."

"It's weird," Lia declared. Then she asked me if I was upset at Mom.

"Not really. I just feel bad for her."

"Why?" Emma asked me.

Lia answered on my behalf, "Aunt Blair's got her beaten down. She's like the sister version of an abusive husband—verbally abusive, you know?"

"A bully," I said.

Emma nodded. "Mom needs to stand up to her."

Christmas morning—the gifts and everything—were to be delayed until after my examination, which made it all worse. The girls and Mom would be waiting for Blair to examine my penis, and then everyone would have to wait for me to finish masturbating. They'd probably be waiting in the kitchen, I dejectedly thought, when I wandered downstairs with a jar of sperm to put in the freezer.

Emma and Lia moved the conversation onwards, talking about past holidays, hilarious moments, and strange gifts. There was a lot of laughter. It helped because I was nervous.

***

I showered first thing when I got up. I didn't want to smell funny for Aunt Blair.

Hot water and suds pouring down me, my penis looked half it's normal size, a shriveled, weak thing. Terrified. My scrotum, tight and crinkled, pulled my testicles close.

I dressed and picked up my room. Smelling my sheets, I decided to swap them out in secret with fresh ones. I sprayed cologne in my room, and then I decided it was too much. I turned the fan on and opened the window and the door.

Everyone was downstairs. I heard them chatting in the kitchen.

I waited in my room. It was 9:20.

I spent forty minutes playing out embarrassing scenarios in my head. I hated Blair for this.

I looked at myself in the mirror and decided to change my clothes. A few minutes later, I changed back.

At ten of ten, I heard someone—Blair, I guessed—coming upstairs, and my heart began to pound in my chest. She turned away at the top of the stairs, and went into her room. I heard the door close, and let out a sigh.

I hated her.

And I hated that my penis seemed so pathetically small that morning. A few times, while I waited, I tried to masturbate myself to semi-hardness.

Nothing made any difference.

I cursed, and then apologized to myself for cursing.

Then, there was a knock on my door.

I held my breath and opened it.

Blair stood there in a white lab coat, carrying a red purse-like bag. A stethoscope hung around her neck, and she was wearing black-rimmed glasses.

She looked at herself, and then back to me. "Doctors, kiddo, learn very early on to have a travel kit. Vacations can never truly be vacations when duty calls."

I nodded and moved aside, locking the door behind her. She watched me do it and nodded.

Standing in the center of my room, she set the bag down on my desk and asked about my height and weight.

I told her, noticing now that her lab coat barely covered the short green skirt underneath it, and her bare, bronze, and shapely legs, from the top of her knees down, were exposed. She wore a red and green blouse under her lab coat, and her jutting breasts forced open the coat at her chest.

She gestured for me to sit on the side of my bed. I did.

She came over and took my temperature. She checked my eyes, ears, nose, and throat. She asked me about recent illnesses, allergies, and how I felt, in general.

I answered her questions quietly.

Satisfied, it seemed, she withdrew a black blood pressure cuff from her red satchel. She sat beside me, rolled up my sleeve, and wrapped the device around my right arm.

"Relax, kiddo. Just let your arm hang loosely."

She took my blood pressure, and I watched her listening, intently and watching the meter.

She unwrapped the velcro sleeve and said, "Good. Take off your shirt."

I did.

She hung the stethoscope on her ears and listened to my heart, telling me when to take deep breaths and moving to different spots. The metal was cold on my back. Her off hand rested on my shoulder.

She rose and turned to me. "Your general health is fine."

I nodded.

Blair hung the stethoscope around her neck. "Okay, you seem a little bit nervous," she said. "No need to be. I'll be quick. I'll talk you through everything I'm doing."

I stared at her.

"Now, I need to see your genitalia, so off with the pants, the underwear, everything."

I tried to sense the state and disposition of my penis and testicles. Were they still hiding out down there? I couldn't tell, and there wasn't time.

I stood and slipped out of my shorts and underwear.

Everything was still small and tight. I closed my eyes and cursed, for the second time that day, but only in my head.

I didn't even look at Aunt Blair.

"Kiddo, I've seen thousands of penises. Big, small, in-between. Thousands. Just relax." She walked over to me. "I'm going to touch you."

One hand fell on my shoulder; the other dropped from view.

I stared up at the ceiling.

"Are you cold?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Fine," I said. I hated her. I hated her.

"I'm examining your genitalia for general health. I'll be feeling for any abnormalities in form. I'll be asking questions about urination and sexual functionality."

I didn't respond, mortified by my situation and the sad state of my penis.

I felt her fingernails, and then her fingers. She pivoted, prodded, squeezed and twisted my penis. Her fingers rolled my testicles around and pulled at my scrotum. My sex organs were like some pile of dough she was preparing for the oven.

"Does it ever hurt when you urinate?"

"No."

"Are you urinating more frequently than usual or with less volume?"

"No."

"Have you ever been concerned about something you saw or felt on your penis or testicles?"

"No."

"Do you have any concerns about your erections?"

"No."

"Not being as firm as usual?"

"No."

"Not relaxing and abating?"

I looked at her.

"Not going down," she clarified.

"No."

"Since I'm already here," she said, and then I felt her finger shove into my groin beside a testicle. "Turn your head and cough."

The pressure she was applying was well beyond any I had experienced in this procedure. I winced and coughed.

She switched positions. "Again."

I glared at her and coughed.

She stopped. "You don't like me, do you, kiddo?"

I didn't respond.

"I'm trying to help you, and..."

"You're nasty to Mom. You treat her like a child..."

"Well, sometimes she is one!" Blair snapped. "What kind of little fool sends her son for one kind of fertility test without just doing the complete battery?"

I didn't say anything.

She squatted in front of me. "I'm looking at skin coloration, vein structure, and shape."

I glanced down for a moment, and the moment lingered. Blair's skirt had hiked up a few inches on her thighs. Above that, a few inches of cleavage showed where her breasts seemed squashed together. I could see bronze swaths of curvy, soft flesh. Her face was just a few inches from my penis, examining and scrutinizing it.

When she looked up to ask another question, I lifted my eyes up toward the wall.

"Do you have any concerns about when you masturbate or ejaculate?"

"No."

"Are you sexually active?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

"Multiple partners?"

"Er...yes."

"How many?"

I paused again before muttering, "Three."

"What kinds of sexual contact?"

I didn't respond.

"Vaginal, oral, anal, come on, kiddo."

"Oral," I responded.

"No vaginal or anal?"

"No vaginal."

"Anal?" she asked.

"Sort of."

"What does that mean?"

"I didn't put it all the way in."

"Are your sexual partners male or female or both?"

"Female."

"Any sexually transmitted diseased that you're aware of?"

"No."

She rose and stepped back. "Everything looks and feels healthy and normal. There is no reason, at this point in my examination why you might be infertile."

I nodded.

"Now, I need to examine your penis while it is erect."

"Sorry, what?"

"You need to give yourself an erection."

I didn't move.

She explained, "The shape and size of a man's penis matters in extreme cases. Some doctors disagree, but the research supports this conclusion. I mean to give your Mother a complete report. I need to see your penis while it is erect."

I sneered my disgust.

"You really dislike me," she declared, almost happily, I felt.

I turned away from her condescending stare.

"So much like your father," she sighed, and her hand cupped my testicles. Her fingers became gentle, slowly tugging and caressing my testicles.

I huffed, "What are you..."

"Giving you an erection," she said, flatly.

"It won't...you can't...," I stammered.

"You tell me you've engaged in oral sex. Did you perform, receive, or both?"

"I...both." My gut tingled from the sensation on my scrotum.

"Did you ejaculate in your partners' mouths?" Her voice had changed. It was soothing, like her touch. The sharp edge had vanished. She glanced down at her fingers, working, and then, when she looked at me again, she never broke direct eye contact.

"Yeah," I breathed.

"You're still a virgin? Really?"

I nodded.

"But, you did, as you say 'sort of' have anal sex? Once?"

I nodded. I felt blood filling my penis.

"Did you enjoy putting your erection in your partner's anus?"

"Yeah."

"I hope you used lubrication."

I nodded. Her fingers coaxed and drew me out. I felt myself lengthening and growing.

It wasn't fair. I looked at her face, and my heart filled with desire. I hated her, but I wanted her.

"Have you ever put your penis between a woman's breasts?" she asked, softly.

"Yeah."

"Did you like that?"

I nodded.

"Do you like the idea of ejaculating on a woman's breasts and on her face?"

"Rather do it inside her," I mumbled.

"Mm-hmm. Inside her mouth?"

I nodded.

"And her vagina?"

Her fingertips slipped away from my testicles. Then, her lips twisted into a smirk, and she said, "I think you're erect now, kiddo." She looked down.

And she didn't move or speak.

I looked down. I was tremendously hard. Now that was more like it.

Aunt Blair continued staring in silence.

Then, I said something. It was unthinkable. I was angry. The risk was staggering. I don't know how I mustered the guts. I said, "Suck it," and I declared it firmly. It was an order.

Blair didn't move when I said it. Seconds elapsed. I was readying myself to apologize when her hand came up to her face. She removed her glasses, and then she descended to her knees.

I watched her stare at my erection, and then she put her hand beside it—as if it were her lover's cheek—leaned forward, and kissed the plum tip of my penis.

She cleared her throat. "The size and shape of your erection will not be an impediment to fertility." I watched as Blair hung the stethoscope back on her ears and placed the drum on my penis. She moved it. And again.

"I can hear the blood flow. It's very strong," she voiced. She pulled the drum away and kissed one side, the underside, and the other side of my erection. The act was done with slow deliberation, and her mouth lingered on my skin momentarily after each gentle pinch of her lips.

Blair turned away and reached to her bag on the desk, pulling out the blood pressure cuff. I let her secure the sleeve around my penis. I saw her place the drum of her stethoscope against the bottom of the very tip of my erection. Her other hand began pumping the device.

Air filled the cuff.

More. It was tight. I felt my pulse in the shaft, inside the cuff.

More. A stranglehold. My erection throbbed to my heartbeat.

More. The head of my penis turned purple-blue, and I grunted.

Blair released the valve. The cuff fully deflated. "The heart and the penis are linked when it comes to sexual functionality. Your heart is strong, and so is your erection."

She put the stethoscope and the cuff on the floor beside her, and then she reached under my scrotum, drawing my testicles forward. Her head tilted sideways and she kissed each one of my balls.

"I had the chance to inspect your samples in the freezer. Sperm volume is well above average. I don't have the ability, here, to measure your count, but based on everything I'm seeing, I would be surprised, indeed, if your count was low. Even so, I'll encourage Beth to have your physician check your count. It's easily done, and there will be no need to provide additional samples." She looked up at me. "Assuming your sperm has fructose enough to live and swim, you are likely very, very fertile."

I nodded, waiting.

She gripped the shaft. "Am I correct that you have a sample that you still need to provide this morning?"

I nodded.

"Is the container here?"

I nodded and pointed to the pillow.

"Shall I leave you now, or do you wish for my continued expertise?" She tugged my erection and kissed the tip.

When she looked up at me, I huffed, "Stay."

Blair unbuttoned the top of her blouse, revealing even more bulbous, tan cleavage. "So, you like me now?" she asked.

I nodded. She was a hideous thing—an awful, selfish creature, but one clothed in lurid sexuality. No matter that her allure was all artificial and manufactured. No matter that it could never really hide her inner repulsiveness for long. My body needed hers, and I didn't care.

"And you want me to suck it?"

"Please."

She snorted. "Never. Suck off a virgin, naked and in front of me? With a big, beautiful penis like yours? Never." She stood and took my hand. She walked to the bed and turned to face me. Hiking up her skirt, she slipped red panties down and kicked them away. She sat on the bed and spread wide her thighs, exposing a perfectly hairless vagina. "You suck me."

I did. I sank to my knees and devoured her.

I thought about Mom, Lia, and Emma downstairs, waiting for us. I thought about how much this would disappoint them all. I knew I was betraying not just them, but myself. I shoved it all aside.

Blair breathed deeply, groaning softly now and then. She whispered, "Yes."

That her pussy didn't taste right never crossed my mind until later. It was bitter. Nor did I concern myself that it didn't feel right on my tongue. It wasn't the warm hearth of Mom or the fiery furnace of Lia. It was lukewarm—cool by comparison—and it seemed to me the texture wasn't right.

Blair lifted my head and said, "Fuck me."

I didn't hesitate. Peripherally, I saw her grab the sample container while I brought my throbbing erection in line with her vagina.

I nuzzled the tip against her and stopped.

I shouldn't do this. I don't want to lose my virginity to this...this fake old wench.

Her legs squeezed against my bottom, and my penis slid inside her. I gasped.

It was pure, thumping power and pleasure. Awe, I felt, and ravenous desire. I didn't know it could feel this way. No one, I thought, can comprehend this until they do it. And even then, my mind still couldn't quite grasp the sheer heights of this rapture.

Blair grinned, a knowing, condescending, and lording smile on her face.

I seized her breasts and drove my body against hers. I was all instinct and desire.

Vaguely, I was aware that Blair's voice encouraged me and that her eyes were fixed on my face. I didn't look back, but I felt it; my face was being read. It was as if my reaction to being inside her was the critical thing to her, like Blair's enjoyment didn't bear on my performance, but only on my response to her body.

I have no idea how long it lasted, but at some point, I felt her feet push on my chest. My penis slipped out of her. She sat up, gripped my erection, and stroked the ejaculate from me, filling the little cup.

I collapsed on the bed, face down, as she slid to the side and rose.

I heard her dressing and gathering her things as she spoke.

"I've taken a cruise like the one I'm going on every year for almost twelve years. It's a sex cruise for younger men and mature women. I don't like the term, but they call it a 'Cougar Cruise.' I love young men, and the best ones are the virgins. Problem is, you hardly ever get the virgins on those cruises."

I looked up at her. She was smiling like she'd gotten away with murder.

She said, "So, that was a very nice start to my vacation, kiddo."

I turned away.

She said, "If you ever wondered why I didn't ask your family to join me on my vacations, well, now you know. But, keep it a secret."

She had all her things, and she looked like a doctor again. The good feeling in me was wearing off, replaced by a kind of empty languor.

"Speaking of secrets," she said, "I'll keep this one if you do." When she hit the door, she turned and added, "Oh, I said before you were just like your father." She looked at my penis. "You're actually very, very different from him." She left.

As I processed what exactly she meant and it's portent, as I thought of what I'd just done with her, shame flooded me, and I hated myself and her anew.

Now, I knew I would have to go act happy and thankful, be around the girls and her. Her! I wanted nothing but to be alone.

I took a shower.

***

Throughout the day, when Aunt Blair and I glanced at each other, one side of her mouth curled up into a smirking grin. I own you, her eyes said. Mom gave her a lift to the airport later that afternoon.

After dinner, I helped Lia move back into her room. The three girls went to a movie. I opted out, staying home.

I was in bed when they got back, but I couldn't sleep.

A part of me wondered if what Blair had said about my father was from her experiences as a doctor or if she had, like me, seduced him, too. Did Blair play a role in why, all those years ago, my father had just left us?

The bigger problem for me was the sex with her. I hated that I'd done it. I hated that I wasn't a virgin anymore because of her.

While everyone else slept, I stared at the dark ceiling of my room.

I left my bedroom after two in the morning and watched television for a while. Then, I took another shower. Afterwards, I wandered the house, thinking about sex.

My first ever hand job. The pool party on graduation night. Hannah, the hottest girl in my class. Never in a lifetime would I have had a chance with her.

It was after midnight. Tons of people were drunk; I wasn't. Only four of us were still in the pool. The rest were back inside the house. It thumped with music. Her hands touched me under the water. She grinned and laughed. She picked me, jumped on my back to chicken fight the other two. We won, and when the others left, I was alone with her. I got nervous and climbed out.

She surprised me, following me into the little cabana bathroom. She kissed me, and I grew amazingly hard. She wanted to see it. I slid the trunks down. I remember the beads of water on her skin and how her blonde hair was brown with wetness, slicked back. We never even kissed while she stroked it. She just watched her hand glide.

Later that night, Hannah mingled with her friends, and I with the few of mine still around. When she looked at me, catching one another's eyes momentarily, her smile had been a beautiful mixture of bashfulness and desire.