All characters are over 18 years old.
This story takes place after a month in Boston with her Aunt Elizabeth. I STRONGLY suggest that you read the previous stories to understand what motivates her and how she thinks. For those of you reading this as a new story, sorry for jumping ahead, but I really wanted to write this now.
Comments are always welcome, but if you don't like something, at least tell me what the problem is. Those "If it doesn't get better, you will lose a reader!" comments don't really help. If you don't tell me what you don't like, I really can't fix it. I'm not a mind reader.
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I was going through serious withdrawal. Not a happy camper right now. Oh sure, I was having more sex now than any time in my life, but since I haven't had sex since I got to Boston, it really didn't take much. The truth is, my aunt had really taught me a lot in how to seduce men and women. I was pretty much a tomboy loner back home. I never even considered dating, or even having sex for that matter. Now, since I came to visit my aunt a month ago, I was introduced to a whole new world. Perhaps I should explain a bit.
For those of you who may not know me, my name is Gail. Gail Theresa O'Malley. GTO. If you want a detailed explanation of who I am, you might want to read my first story, "GTO". Short intro here, just the relevant info.
I am 5 feet 6 inches tall, weigh approximately 120 lbs., hypnotic emerald green eyes, flaming red hair that reaches to the center of my back, and legs that go for miles. No matter how busy I am, I still manage to spend at least an hour a day in my home gym. Personally, I think my best feature is my tight ass and miles long legs, but it seems that most guys (and a fair number of women) tend to drool over my 38D breasts. Let me tell you, trying to slide under a car with those things can be a real challenge.
Both my parents really made an effort to explain to me what they did in their jobs. I ended up having a knack for mathematics, and I would spend countless hours on weekends working on cars with my dad while I was growing up. By the time I was 10 years old, I could rebuild a carburetor practically blindfolded. Mom also taught me the basic physics of engineering in the evenings while she was working on one project or another at home. Unfortunately, mom died in a car accident caused by some stupid drunk driver when I was 11 years old, so from then on it was just me and dad. Dad made a pretty decent living on his own, but because of a really good life insurance from mom, we were pretty well set. Dad did date occasionally, but he never seemed overly interested in it. I think he just did it because I would mention to him that he needed to get out of the house occasionally.
With mom gone, I really didn't have a female role model to teach me the finer points of being a lady. I grew up more of a tomboy wearing jeans and tee-shirts and working on cars. When I turned 15, I went to work at my dad's shop on weekends and during breaks in school. I was pretty much an outcast in high school because I didn't fit in with any of the cliques. I was a girl, so the gearheads really didn't take me seriously. Obviously, I was not feminine enough for the prissy popular girls. I never got into sports, because that would take time away from working on cars with my dad. And I found the nerds to be boring. Dad did insist that I focus on my studies, and he would insist that all my homework was done correctly before he would let me help him in the shop. Truth be told, I liked doing my schoolwork, and, because of the work ethic instilled in me early by my parents, I strived to always be at the top of the class.
It should be obvious that I didn't have many friends in high school. I was pretty much a loner. I was also usually pretty laid back until I was pushed too far. That would happen occasionally. Some cheerleader would start making comments about me, and when I didn't retaliate she would escalate the bullying. Eventually, she would go a step too far by pushing me in the hallway, knocking the books out of my hands, or throwing something at me. Big mistake! Working on cars can really strengthen you. Lifting transmissions, torqueing head bolts, and carrying engine components around the machine shop can really build some muscles. So there I would be with the crying prissy cheerleader in the principal's office. I never really got in trouble, usually just a warning about bitch-slapping her. I'm pretty sure that the principal knew what was really going on, because he would dismiss me, then talk to the other girl for a few minutes longer. The other girls would avoid me after that.
Anyway, my dad gave me a really nice built up 1969 GTO for my 16th birthday. Me, being me, I soon began street racing with it and relieving a few pretentious rich boys of their cars. (FYI, as soon as dad figured it out, he put a stop to my street racing for pink slips career). Read all about that in my firs story.
Anyway, just as soon as summer break started after my junior year, dad called me into the living room for a talk. He told me that he was proud of the person I had become but was concerned about the lack of a female role model to teach me about being a woman. He said that he had discussed it with my Aunt Elizabeth (Mom's younger sister) and they had agreed that I would spend the summer with her in Boston. No cars, no racing, no mechanics. I protested. I pleaded, I cried. I begged. All to no avail. I was going, and that was that! Dad laughed when I offered to race him for it. He politely declined, saying that it was already decided, and he was not going to change his mind. So that summer, I grudgingly went to Boston. Let me tell you, after a couple of VERY interesting confrontations during the first two weeks (Apparently Aunt Elizabeth is really good at hiding her true persona from the rest of the family) it became a really educational summer. I'm sure if dad really knew who Aunt Elizabeth was behind the classy reserved exterior she showed to the family, he would have freaked out and forbade me to ever associate with her. And this is the story of that summer.
As it turned out, Aunt Elizabeth is a bisexual dominant. She has several 'pets' - both male and female - that serve her every kink. Considering our extended family is actually quite religious and conservative, that was a real eye opener. After a couple of rough days, I agreed to give her two weeks to convince me to stay. In answer to your question, I already said that I had been here a month. Still, I was going through withdrawal from not driving. Perhaps that will explain what happened next.
So here I was. Sitting on a bench on a late Wednesday morning outside a Starbucks sipping my Carmel Macchiato and wishing I was behind the wheel of a race car. As I sat there, I gradually became aware of an argument taking place nearby. Casually looking around, I noticed that it was between a couple a few years older than me. Perhaps college age. It kind of sounded like a difference of opinion on how they were going to spend their Saturday night. I perked up when the girl said something about not wanting to play second fiddle to the races again. That got my attention.
Another subtle look showed a very attractive brunette and a rather good looking preppy looking blonde haired guy. You know the type. He was prom king, most popular boy in high school, high status in his frat, typical entitled rich kid. She was probably about 5' 6", looked like D cups, trim, athletic, cheerleader type. Wouldn't hurt to listen a little more and see if I could turn this into something.
"Look, you know that this is what I do. Hell, you got that car of yours because of this. I expect you there as usual Saturday night!" he said.
"But babe," she responded, "you can miss one night. We've done the same thing for three years! Maybe we can have a nice dinner and catch a show just once."
"Look Mandy. You either show up as my girlfriend as usual or show up to give my that car back. Either way, you show up, or I will tell everyone you abandoned us. You know what that will do to you. I suppose you could always get new friends though. Maybe someone else can take care of you then."
With that, he got up and walked to the parking lot. I watched him as he got into a rather sweet late '60s or early '70s Corvette Stingray. I listened to the engine as he started it then drove off. 'Hmmmm' I thought. "big block. Not completely stock, but not overly built up. Pretty fast. Low 10's with a decent driver.'
Curious, I got up and followed her as she walked to her car. She took out her keys and started to unlock the door of a '69 Mustang Fastback. Now, I am not into Fords, but I have to admit a little respect for a couple of their muscle cars.
"Nice car." I said as I was walking past.
"Thanks." she replied. "Unfortunately, I may not have it for much longer."
"Yeah. Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing. If it makes any difference, I think he is an asshole."
"Yeah, he is, but not a whole lot I can do about it." She sighed.
"Maybe, maybe not." I replied. Suddenly a plan began to form in my mind.
