(At the time of these stories, I had just turned 18 yrs old, stood 6 ft, 2 in tall, weighed 195 lbs with a 29-inch waist. My stomach was flat and hard, my chest chiseled and neck thick with muscle. My legs were sculpted steel pillars. I have blue eyes and, at that time, fairly short brown hair.
I worked at a 3-bay garage/filling station/grocery store in a small town of 250 people, and had advanced from a mechanics helper to assistant mechanic, and, at the age of 17 been promoted to Full Mechanic. I made good money, and kids from three counties brought their cars for me to make run better or faster.
Despite my physical appearance, I was a socially shy person. I could be embarrassed easily. Having worked at the garage since I was 13, I found it easier to deal with adults one on one than kids my own age.
I dated, yes, but never went steady with any girl. I had managed to feel breasts and butts through clothing, but never bare skin. The one time a girl had asked to see my cock was followed quickly by a demand to take her home, adding to my shyness and frustration.
My cock is big. In full arousal it stands over 10 inches long with a circumference over 7 inches.
My name is Tim. When I was small my Dad shortened it to just T, for Tim. My freshman year in high school the kids on the football team said it stood for something else – T for Trunk.
This is my fourth story of the series. If you haven't read the first three, scroll down to the bottom, click on my pen name and start from the beginning. You won't be sorry.)
*****
So, there I was, driving by the lake, heading for Mr. and Mrs. J's lakeside cottage. Mrs. J should already be there, waiting for me.
As I turned the last corner I remembered which street this was. Coming up on the left was my grandparents' summer cottage. Not being in season, I knew they wouldn't be there.
I glanced toward the house as I passed and there was Aunt Marion, my mother's youngest sister, and her new husband of 2 months, Jerry, raking up the last of the fall leaves from the yard. I had forgotten my grandparents had let them use the cottage until they were better established and could find a place of their own.
They both looked up from their task to see who was passing and, recognizing me, waived cheerfully. I waved back and honked lightly but did not stop. "That's not going to sit well," I remember thinking.
My grandmother had Aunt Marion late in life. Only six years older than me, I was her favorite nephew. She used to tease me about helping my mom change my diaper when I was a baby. As a matter of fact she was always teasing me about something. She enjoyed making me blush. Until that summer, that is.
During the summer I used to run over to the beach in the morning. Along with several of my friends, of both sexes, we'd talk and swim and catch the rays.
Of course I enjoyed ogling the girls in there skimpy bathing suits, too.
In August Aunt Marion started showing up. She wanted to deepen her tan before her wedding in September. Because she didn't know anyone, she threw her blanket open next to mine.
Aunt Marion was tiny. My mother stood 5'5", but Aunt Marion barely made 5'. She was skinny, maybe 90 lbs soaking wet. My way of getting back at her teasing was to tell her she could be mistaken for a boy if it wasn't for those two little bumps on her chest and the long hair that hung to her ass. She got so ticked off when I said it, so I used it sparingly.
The truth is you couldn't mistake her for a boy. She was tiny, yes, but all the curves were in the right place. She really did have breasts. Small, yes, but on her they fit just right. Her legs were toned and shapely, and her butt, though tiny, was beautifully curved and proportioned for her frame.
Her face was slender, like the rest of her. High cheekbones, a dainty little nose, full lips, almost perfect teeth except the front right turned out just a little to slightly overlap the left. Her eyes were big and brown. No, you really couldn't mistake her for a boy.
A graduate of a local teaching college, she had been teaching 2nd grade in our district for a couple of years. My grandparents wouldn't let her live in a dorm while she was attending college, so she had lived with us, sharing a room with my older sister, Beth.
One of the most embarrassing moments caused by my Aunt had been on the morning of my 15th birthday.
I was shy and Aunt Marion continually did things that embarrassed me. She'd kid me about being her little man, then pretend she was going to throw her arms around me and kiss me. I'd fight her off, push her away, and turn beet red in the process. Looking back I can smile about it. Right then, though, I'd turn about every shade of red you could think of.
My brother had graduated the year before, and then enlisted in Navy, so I finally had a room to myself.
It was early Saturday morning and I had just awakened with my usual morning hard on, needing to go to the bathroom yet knowing it would be impossible in my present condition.
I was stretching, arms extended over my head and legs stretched out as far as they could go. My body was still covered by a sheet and light blanket.
Suddenly my door opened and Aunt Marion, then 21, flew into the room, jumped astraddle me, gripped my biceps in an attempt to keep them pinned beside my head, and, laughing, giggling and squealing, began covering my face in kisses while wishing me a happy birthday.
When I arched my hips violently in an attempt to throw her off, my piss-hard cock slammed against her vagina. In less than half a second she went from laughing, giggling and teasing to dead silence. I was furious, but she had stopped, so I waited.
My thrust had pushed her up. She didn't come back down when I lowered my hips. She was holding herself above me. Looking back now, I know it was in disbelief as she slowly lowered and made full, solid contact again.
I guess it finally burned through her brain that what she had felt was real. She gave a squeal, leaped off me and ran from the room.
I can't tell you how embarrassed I was. Again my cock had made a girl run from me. Throughout that day I couldn't look her in the face. I can remember, now, how she had tried to shrug it off and get me to loosen up. Over time I finally did, but not that day.
Getting back to the beach, I remember it was one of those hot dog-days of August. All the others had left or gone into the water. Almost time to take a quick shower and go to work, I asked Aunt Marion if she wanted anything from the concession stand before I left. She wondered if they would sell ice water. I assured her I could get her anything.
I was at the concession stand, about 30 ft from her blanket, when I heard her voice screaming to be left alone. When I turned, I saw two guys I recognized, both seniors from our rival school district to the south. One was holding her arms from behind while the other was flipping her little breast with his fingers.
They were standing at an angle from my approach, so neither of them saw me coming. But Aunt Marion was looking for me. I guess it was the look on my face because all the sudden she froze, eyes widened, and she quit screaming.
I said I was shy. That pertained mostly to girls. When it came to situations like this, I wasn't shy at all. I'd been in a few of fights. None, however, when I was truly enraged, as I was right then.
I remember what I did like it was slow motion. I dropped them both like bad habits. They never laid a hand on me. My Aunt told me later I was ruthless. She said she was frightened and proud of me at the same time. I made sure she was all right, escorted her to her car, then went back and, as the saying goes, read to them from the bible, chapter and verse. They left with a complete understanding that I had better not see either of them around again, and what would happen if I did.
From that day I was her hero. Though she still liked to tease from time to time, it was lighter, more playful and considerate.
So driving by now without stopping was not going to sit well. I knew I was going to hear about it, but I'd worry about that later. The cottage I was looking for was around the next curve. And that's where my mind was.
I was picturing in my mind how Donna would greet me after what we'd done Saturday night. I imagined the door being opened and her standing there in something filmy, sexy, provocative. Or maybe a note saying "Come In, I'm Waiting", then I'd find her already in bed, naked, hot, exciting.
What I got was something completely different. And, for a little while, it left this 18 year old puzzled.
It was the 2nd week of December. It was cold but not frigid. Maybe low 30's. Skies were mostly blue with just puffs of clouds here and there.
I pulled into the drive. Donna had said "lakeside cottage". It was almost as big as my parents' old 5-bedroom house! As I pulled up to the garage she came running out of the house in a winter coat and slacks. She opened the garage door and signaled for me to pull my car inside.
As I got out of the car she said, "Close the door and come in", then almost ran back inside the cottage. Puzzled, I did just that. When I got inside things became even more puzzling.
The lower floor was one great big room divided into 4 different areas; kitchen, dining area, living room and an area with a pool table, jukebox and large round poker table complete with chip slots and cup holders. The kitchen was separated from the rest only by a large L-shaped counter with opening to the living and dining areas. Donna was in the kitchen area.
"Do you want some coffee?"
"Sure", I said.
"Isn't it cold out," she asked? "You know, I like spring best, when the trees have leaves. I went shopping this morning. I bought this dress, and of course I had to get this handbag and a pair of shoes to go with it." On and on she went. I had taken my coat off when I came in and hung it on the coat tree by the door. She still had her coat on!
While talking she had placed a cup of coffee on the coffee table in front of me, taken out the dress, shoes and purse to show me and now was opening the doors under the sink to do what? My goodness, she had a dust rag and a bottle of polish! She was going to dust!
And all the while she kept talking and moving. Perplexed, I had stopped listening and was trying to figure out what the heck was happening.
Suddenly it dawned on me. I told you, I'm a quick study. SHE was nervous. Here I was, an 18 year old. Was this 32-year-old woman nervous about being alone with me? Was it nervousness or something else?
While I was going through this thought process, Donna had cleaned the counters and was moving toward the dining table, all the while talking incessantly.
"Donna, stop!" I said firmly. I didn't shout it, just said it loud and clear. She froze on the spot, about an arms length from the table.
"Put down the cleaning stuff and come over here", I said just as firmly. I swear the hand holding the can shook as she set it on the table. Slowly she came toward me, looking down at the carpet as she walked, and stopped just in front of my outstretched feet.
Leaning back into the couch I took a moment to think. I decided to go slow, test these new waters. "Take off your coat and sit down here," I said patting the couch beside me.
