Weekend at Aunt Ivy's Pt. 02

(Hat-tip to kingswede for the idea.)

Saturday

Arms laden with grocery bags Noelle shuffled inside and elbowed the door to her apartment shut behind her. A few steps later the bags thumped on the counter, and she slumped against the pantry to catch her breath. Summer in the desert. Five years on and she still couldn't understand why anyone chose to live here.

The cool conditioned air wicked the moisture from her forehead. She shucked her clingy tee shirt and kicked her sneakers to the mat by the door. Swinging open the refrigerator she stared at the selection of seltzers, basking in the chill on her arms and abdomen. She swiped a can and popped the tab and downed half the contents in one swig. A dribble trickled through her cleavage and disappeared into her sports bra. Temporarily refreshed she set about putting away the food.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. She ignored it. But it buzzed again. And again. A phone call, not a text. Scooping it up she checked the number. Smiled to herself. Easing into the chair at the end of the dining room table she tucked her legs underneath her and answered the call.

"Hey Aunt Ivy," she chirped. Her aunt laughed on the other end of the line.

"How are you 'Elle dear," she said. "They're not working you too hard at that new job, are they?"

"No, I like it a lot," Noelle replied. "It's challenging but it's fun, you know?"

"Are you sure? Because I can get you a look at Morgan Stanley if you want."

"Really," Noelle insisted, "I'm enjoying it."

"And the apartment's not giving you any trouble? No more busted pipes and broken air conditioning?"

She laughed. "No, this place is great."

"That's good to hear. I hated you being in that dump you were in before."

Aunt Ivy was quiet a moment. The white noise on the line suggested she was driving. "So," she continued finally, "did you get my invitation?"

Noelle crinkled her forehead, trying to remember the last time she'd picked up the mail. Then she remembered. "The e-mail one? About the 10K?"

"That's the one," Aunt Ivy confirmed. "Are you interested?"

"I'm not sure. I've never really been a runner. I don't think I could."

"Well it's not a run, silly," Aunt Ivy countered, chuckling. "I would never suggest running to anyone, it's terrible for your knees. It's a bike ride." Her voice changed. Lowered in volume. Softened in tone. "You have been riding your bike, haven't you?"

A shiver zipped up Noelle's thighs, through her hips to the base of her spine. She looked over toward the patio door at the sleek split-seat connected bike her aunt had sent as a house-warming gift. She had been riding. A lot. Best workouts she'd ever had.

"Yeah, of course," she replied cautiously. "But...I don't understand. A race? How does that...how does that work?"

"It's a little different every time," Aunt Ivy answered. "But basically, once a month, a group of us get together over the app and we ride a 10K. The first one to...finish...after crossing the line wins the race."

Noelle frowned. The words didn't make sense in the order that she heard them. Didn't the first person to finish always win the race? How would you finish a race after it was over? And why did she say "finish" like it meant -

She gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth and hoping Aunt Ivy didn't hear. Heat swelled in her sex. She unfolded her legs and crossed one over the other, squeezing them gently together.

"Oh!" she squeaked finally. "Uhhh...that's umm...that's -"

"The word you're looking for is fun, dear," Aunt Ivy chided. "It's a lot of fun. You like fun, don't you? That research job hasn't sucked it all out of you, has it?"

Noelle tried to collect her thoughts. "No, of course not!" "It's just...I've never...you know...," she paused, a little anxious, "...finished...in front of anyone. I mean...by myself - with someone else there. Or...watching. I mean -"

"You mean you've never masturbated in front of anyone," Aunt Ivy clarified.

"Yeah, that."

The older woman chuckled. "Well that's nothing to be ashamed of dear. This is your chance to fix it. Cut loose a little. Have a good time!"

Noelle squeezed her legs tighter, a pang of pleasure rippling out to her toes. "I don't know," she countered, "doing it...in front of strangers? I'd be too nervous."

"They're not strangers 'Elle, they're my friends. And you know I only hang out with the cool kids. They're all really great and you'll love them. I promise."

Noelle smiled to herself. If only she could borrow a little of that confidence Aunt Ivy overflowed with. "You make it sound so easy."

"Fun, dear. The word is fun. I make it sound fun."

"Okay, fun," Noelle conceded. "What do you get if you win?"

"That depends on how many people are racing. This month there will be five of us, so the winner gets five hundred dollars. A hundred from each racer."

"A hundred dollars?" Noelle coughed. "Gas is $5.50 a gallon, I can't spare a hundred dollars!"

"You don't have to. Since it's your first time, I'm covering the wager for you. Losing costs you nothing. Winning earns you some gas money. You like money, right? Even if you don't like fun you must like money."

"Everybody likes money Aunt Ivy," Noelle grumbled. "And I love fun."

"Then this is perfect! Have fun, win money. Name a better way to spend an evening."

Noelle eyed the bike lit in ribbons through the blinds by the evening sun. The faint roll of waves over golden sand washed through her memory. The whir of wheels swelled in her ears. A damp heat baked her forehead and her thighs burned to the bone. She drew a deep fluttering breath and sighed. Lifting the seltzer, she pressed the can to her chest.

"Okay," she said quietly.

"What was that dear? I couldn't hear you."

"I said I'll do it," Noelle replied, louder, but no more confident. Butterflies flitted about her stomach.

"Good," Aunt Ivy exclaimed, "I knew you were up for it! When I get home tonight I'll set you up in the group. Three days before the race you'll get a message detailing the course and the rules. It's pretty straightforward, but if you have any questions give me a call and I'll explain. In the meantime, get some good rides in. Ten kilometers feels a lot farther when you're trying not to cum!"

Noelle felt herself blush. "Oh my god Aunt Ivy!"

A delighted cackle burst from the other end of the line. "Love you 'Elle," her aunt shouted. "See you Saturday!"

Noelle dropped the phone on the table and slouched in the chair. What on earth had she agreed to? A circle jerk? With three strangers? And her aunt? What was she thinking?!? Alone on a deck chair surrounded by desert was one thing. Alone in her apartment by the window in the dark was another. But naked, on screen, with four other women?

A chill rippled through her chest. She couldn't tell if the source was fear or excitement. She sipped away the rest of the spritzer, legs crossed tightly under the table, trying not to think about the race.

Tuesday

Noelle padded across the carpet in the dark, around the coffee table and behind the couch to the balcony door. Hidden behind the blinds she peered through the slats into the twilight. There were lights on across the courtyard, and across the street. A couple lounging in their living room. Someone working at a dining room table. That cute single dad in B614 loading his dishwasher. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

It was different in the desert. Easier. She could see for miles and knew no one was there. Here she was trapped in a room. Surrounded by glass. Surrounded by people - any of whom could be watching. What if they were creepy? What if they called the police? What if....

She rocked back and leaned against the mullion, breathing deep and full. Only four days before the race, and she was still this nervous. She needed a trial run. Some way to blunt the anxiety of her first time.

In the quiet the AC clicked on. A rush of cool air escaped the register next to her feet, swirling round her legs and up underneath her tee shirt to her bare ass. She shivered at the chill. A sharp contrast to the furnace between her thighs. She had to start somewhere. Reaching up she twisted the metal rod at the edge of the window. Long blades of light swept across the living room floor and over the couch.

She stared at the cushions waiting to welcome her, striped in pale ribbons by the low summer moon. She frowned. It felt like cheating. She turned back toward B614. Cute Dad had moved to a chair opposite his coffee table, what looked like a book obscuring his face. If, at some point, he looked up over his shoulder.... Her fingers left the rod for the braided cord adjacent. Plastic clasps scraped the metal channel. The ribbons melded into a rhombus of amber and silver light.

She shuffled back around the couch, past the switch for the overhead lights to the black-stemmed floor lamp in the far corner of the room. Trembling, she twisted the knob. Soft white light warmed the ceiling, fading to the moonlight just short of the windows. And the curves of her body cast their gentle shadows on the floor. She looked toward the glass and saw no one looking. But she realized that if someone was, she could be seen.

Cautiously, she returned to the sofa. Crossing her arms and pinching the hem she peeled her tee shirt off over her head and fluffed it over the center cushion. Knees weak, she eased her ass down onto the garment, then twisted a quarter round and stretched out, resting her head on one arm of the couch, her feet up on the other.

Before her fingers touched her folds she was soaking wet. As she eased her legs apart, strands of grool clung to her labia and inner thighs. Probing her pussy with a single digit, a spot of her juices trickled down through the crease of her ass onto her shirt. Her nipples stood high off her breasts and her toes curled against the balls of her feet. Her body hummed like a high-tension wire. She realized this might be over before she had the chance to enjoy it.

Watching the window between her knees her middle finger glided through her slit, pausing now and then for a dip inside or a swirl of her clit. Her free hand cupped her tits, rolling the straining pink nubs between her knuckles. The heat swelled in her sex. Radiated through her belly. Warmed the goosebumps rising on her skin.

She squirmed her hips into the cushion, curving her back and driving her shoulders against the arm of the couch. Each tweak of her button shot current through her nerves, shivering her limbs and shortening her breath. She tried to slow down - to restrain her zeal. But her conscious self was no longer in control. The moment she shed her clothes she'd surrendered to the fantasy. All she could do now was hold on.

Her legs splayed apart, welcoming deeper thrusts of her fingers. Desperate moans escaped her throat, a soaring melody to the rhythmic squelch of her vagina. She twisted her torso to the side, burying her face in the nearest throw pillow to muffle her expressions of the thrill. The room closed in around her until all that remained was her vessel, the cushions, and the specter of eyes through the uncovered windows. A wave swelled in the pit of her stomach, rising up and cresting in her chest before smashing the shores of her sex.

Her body ceased, then shivered and shook as orgasm shuddered through her belly and all the way down to her feet. She flooded her palm as her thighs snapped shut, hips bucking the air. Her neck and chest flushed as pink as her pussy. And the heat of her pulse scalded her ears. She writhed in the dim light, screaming into the smooth grey fabric until the tremors finally subsided.

Finally, Noelle lay still. Eyes closed. Chest heaving. Slowly her body began to unwind. Her legs released her wrist. She scooped her fingers through her slit and sucked them into her mouth, the sweet nectar pooling on her tongue. The room returned one sigh at a time. Her apprehension, however, did not.

She wriggled out of the wet spot and eased herself off the couch; first to the floor, then to her feet. Shuffling silently across the carpet she stopped just short of the glass. The warm glow of the lamp reddened her back while the moonlight paled her breasts. Strangely composed, she gazed out into the night.

The lights were off across the courtyard now. The curtains drawn in B614. There was no evidence she had been seen. And no evidence that she hadn't been. The feeling of absolute freedom she'd first experienced on the deck on Aunt Ivy's pool surged to the top of her consciousness. Butterflies in her stomach she reached for the rod to close the blinds.

Something moved at the edge of the curtains in single dad's apartment. She leaned in, hoping to catch a glimpse. The fabric rippled left to right, then never moved again. Noelle smiled to herself. Leaving the slats open, she switched off the lamp and retreated to bed.

Wednesday

Slouched on the couch with a bowl of ice cream, Noelle queued up a Netflix series and settled in for a quiet evening. The opening credits had barely cleared the screen when her phone chimed with an email notification. She checked the screen and sat up straight. It was from Aunt Ivy. Titled "Race Rules." Four days of pent-up curiosity immediately got the better of her. Setting the bowl on a cushion in her lap she tapped open the message.

Username: FineElle

She rolled her eyes, smiling.

Password: ea$ym0ney

Course: Suburban / Level

Course Difficultly: Novice

Probe Type: Malcolm

It seemed the group had decided to go easy on her, with a race on mostly flat ground and a comfortable probe. There were four standard sizes: Lucas, Malcolm, Nathaniel and Christopher; the number of letters in each name corresponding to the length of the phallus. Lucas and Malcolm shipped with the bike. And Malcolm was the one she'd first used at Aunt Ivy's - the one she'd come to prefer.

Rule 1: First rider to climax after completing the race distance (10 km) wins. Riders reaching climax prior to completing the race distance will be disqualified.

Rule 2: Climaxes will be confirmed by the AI. All AI decisions are final.

Rule 3: Each rider must be clearly visible on camera and audible to the other. Audio and video must remain live throughout the race.

Rule 4: Riders will refrain from any and all sexual activity for 72 hours prior to the race.

Noelle's eyes leapt from her head. Three days?!? How was that supposed to work? Three days celibate and she might cum just by thinking about it. She had no chance if that rule was legit.

The phone vibrated in her palm, startling her. She tapped the screen to accept the call and Aunt Ivy's voice came over the speaker.

"Hi 'Elle," she greeted, a slyness in her tone. "Just checking to see if you got the message about the rules."

"Actually, it just came through," Noelle replied.

"Oh, good! You're okay with your username?"

Noelle chuckled. "I would have picked something less...brash, but I can live with it."

"Did everything make sense? Anything you need me to explain?"

She paused a moment, debating whether to mention it. Aunt Ivy filled the silence.

"It's Rule 4, isn't it."

Noelle shrugged. "I mean...three days seems...excessive?"

Aunt Ivy laughed. "We call that one the Madison rule. She used to get off just before the race then wipe us out because she can't have multiple orgasms. So we designed this to level the playing field."

"But does it work? How do you know she isn't cheating?"

"We're all women of a certain age dear. We can tell when someone's been...satisfied." Noelle's cheeks lifted. Her aunt seemed to notice the shift in tone. "Don't worry," she added, "I'm sure you'll be just fine. Get some rest. See you Saturday night!"

Aunt Ivy ended the call, leaving Noelle with the phone to her ear. She set it softly on the cushion beside her shifted the ice cream bowl to her lap, the cold seeping through her shorts to the delicate skin of her groin. She drew a deep breath and tried to focus on the show. It was going to be an eternal three days.

Saturday

By the time eight o'clock rolled around Noelle's sanity hung by a thread. She sat quietly in the center of the couch in her leggings and tank top, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. She was certain that if she rubbed her thighs or crossed her legs she would disqualify herself from the competition in the most disappointing, yet pleasurable way possible.

The second hand dragged around the face of the chronograph above the television. How could a minute last so long? How could there possibly be 28 more before the start of the race? She stood up and began to pace but regretted it immediately, slumping still against the wall to numb the twinge. She had to do something to slow herself down. Biting her tongue, she shuffled to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later she stepped from the icy shower onto the cold tile floor. Hunched up and shivering, she snatched the towel from the rack and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, covering her naughty bits in fluffy white cotton. Her teeth chattered as she short-armed her hair into a ponytail. But the idea paid off for the moment. Getting off was the furthest thing from her mind.

She fitted Malcom to the threaded post beneath the split in the seat and set a small bottle of lube in the pocket below the screen. She'd never needed it before. But she figured she should be prepared, just in case. She plucked a bottle of water from the fridge, swallowed a mouthful, and set the remainder in the cupholder just above the handlebars. The touchscreen lit up. It was 8:25. Time to login.

She tapped her credentials on the pad and waited. The screen tilted up and the little green light next to the camera flickered on. Standing next to the seat she examined the image displayed. Her face was dark, shadowed by the overhead lights. She wanted to leave it that way. But the rules were the rules. She turned on the floor lamps either side of the television and checked again. Much better. She slipped in her earbuds and connected the Bluetooth.

Two yellow bars with names appeared in the corner of the screen. Noelle's heart skipped. This was really happening. Her cheeks warmed as a chill snaked through her body. So many thoughts. No time to process.

A third name appeared. And finally, a fourth. The screen darkened and a "Cast to Display" prompt faded up. Hesitant, she tapped the green check. The prompt faded out and four windows appeared checkering her television screen. One face she recognized. Three she did not.

"Welcome everyone," Aunt Ivy chirped from the top left window. "I'm glad you all could make it and I look forward to riding off with your money!" The other women laughed. Amused by a joke she'd probably told a hundred times, Aunt Ivy continued.

"Before we start tonight, I'd like to introduce our new racer. Ladies, I'd like you to meet Noelle."

"Hi Noelle," they responded in unison, a sing-song quality to their voices. Noelle waved at the camera, smiling awkwardly, floundering for something to say.

"'Elle's a little shy," Aunt Ivy observed. "With tits like hers don't understand why, but we're going to help her get over all that."

She couldn't see herself on screen, but Noelle didn't need a camera to know she was blushing. Through a Cheshire grin, Aunt Ivy pointed around the screen.

"'Elle, in your top right window is Clara, bottom right is Cassandra, and bottom left is Madison, the catalyst for Rule 4, as we previously discussed."

Noelle made a quick study of each woman as her aunt gave their names. Clara seemed to be of Latin origin - somewhere in South America. She looked shorter than the others, with a soft face, thick wavy brown hair and dark eyes contrasting her slim white tee shirt. Cassandra was a striking black woman, head adorned with narrow beaded braids hanging down to the midst of her back. Madison's straight blonde locks were difficult to distinguish from her pale blue eyes and alabaster skin. All very different from Aunt Ivy's deep vacation tan and buoyant black curls. They were all about her aunt's age, and all of them bright and beautiful.