All characters are over the age of 18
____________________
Sue got into bed and started to shake with anger and shock. The more she thought about it the more outrageous his behaviour appeared. Her heart was beating fast.
But other thoughts sprang to her mind and raced away with her, too.
It was true that she had been teasing him since she came to stay, that she had enjoyed the barely concealed lust in his eyes. She had to admit that she had been embarrassed but turned-on to see his erection form and move in his trousers, and had found herself wondering whether he masturbated to the thought of her. The idea disgusted her. Her "nephew", the son of her best friend, feeling so aroused by her that he jacked off, imagining her as he came.
It was an image that she chose not to dwell upon. At first. But then the thought of his hand pumping up and down as he gritted his teeth and called her to mind seemed erotic as well as obscene. The thought that perhaps he felt so powerfully aroused by her gave her a warm – and naughty – feeling. Surely, though – or at least, so she had thought until tonight – Mike wasn't that sort of lad. Was he?
Now the image came back to her mind again. And, again, it both disgusted her and appealed to her.
The seediness of his barely hidden desire for aroused her, too, the more so given their age difference and that they were almost family. She felt guilty for encouraging him to think of her sexually. She felt guilty for having enjoyed his attention. Until tonight.
Tonight he had been way out of order. To have touched her boob would have been bad enough. But to have kissed her there seemed far more sexual, less impetuous, more planned and calculating. He had overstepped the mark big time. And yet... she found herself denying it, but the truth was that the very boldness and outrageousness of his behaviour turned her on as well as angered her.
The question was whether to tell his mother, Angela. They had been close since their late teens, and head helped each other through difficult times. Telling her what had happened could ruin all that. But not to tell would be harder.
Another thought kept coming to her mind that was hard to drive away or even to answer. "Why did I flirt with him in the first place? And not just flirt – I encouraged him to think of me sexually with the way I left my underwear in full view – even my stockings, when Angela wasn't around! And – oh, hell, it wasn't exactly subtle to put them out after she had left the house and retrieve them again just before she came home!"
She tried to justify her earlier actions and told herself that she had meant them simply as an innocent flirt but deep down she knew that she had done it to see how he reacted. The simple fact was that he had called her bluff.
Her mind also went back to the DVD she had suggested they watch earlier that evening. She hated to admit it, but she had chosen it partly for its racy scenes, to watch his reaction – and she had thought it would be fun to watch him and see if he sprouted an erection. And – though she tried to argue it away – when he had, she had been aroused by the lewd sight, and aroused further to see it move, snake-like, in his trousers.
The truth was that she was partly to blame. She knew it, even though she was loath to admit it. She had actively led him along and he had reacted as she guessed her might. It was more unsettling to think that she had in fact responded in the way that she almost hoped he might. And now the ball was back where it had begun – in her court. She had to decide the next course of action. To tell, or not to tell. Of course there was a third possible course of action. She dismissed it out of hand, but it dogged her as she debated whether to tell his mother or ignore what had happened and make it clear to him that he must never act in such a way again.
An image formed in her head. She was creeping into Mike's room in the middle of the night, slipping under the bedclothes, snuggling up to him. He stirred but she shushed him and they began to make love – or maybe just have sex – silently, softly, so as not to wake his mother, asleep in the next room – and feeling ashamed, afraid and almost electrically charged with the whole illicit scenario.
She was shocked by the image and tried to drive it away. But its naughtiness stirred her. And she found it hard to escape its beckoning allure. It had been many months since she had had sex. She missed it. Tonight was, among other things, a reminder just how much she missed it. But – hell, surely the answer didn't lie with her best friend's son, she reasoned.
Then again and again she focussed her mind on that outrageous kiss. He had overstepped the mark. Big time.
_______________
Mike waited for a good hour before going upstairs himself. He smiled wryly to think that this night when he had attempted to seduce his "aunt" was the only night so far of her stay that he had no inclination to masturbate at the thought of her. His nerves were on edge. He felt genuinely bad to have treated her in such a way, and to risk spoiling what had always been a close and special relationship. He also not only feared what his mother's reaction would be if Aunt Sue told her what he had done. He truly feared ruining the strong friendship that his mother and she had enjoyed over many years. He could not decide whether it would be better if his mother blamed him entirely, or whether he would prefer it if she blamed Sue as well for encouraging him. Once more he cursed his stupidity.
He washed, brushed his teeth, and stepped towards his bedroom. He noticed that Sue's bedroom light was not on, but that his was. He decided that he must have forgotten to switch it off. He pushed his bedroom door open and gasped audibly with surprise at the sight that greeted him. But, though his feet remained frozen to the spot, his eyes moved plenty.
"Aunt" Sue was standing sideways-on to the doorway, looking towards him. Her left leg was bent at the knee and her foot was resting on his bed. She was wearing her white satin camisole. It hugged each of her smallish breasts deliciously, and her nipples jutted against it. The lace trim drew his eye to the pale skin of the tops of her modest, shapely orbs, and to her shallow cleft.
She looked at him with an inscrutable expression. She was wearing flimsy black satin panties, and a black suspender belt adorned her waist. Her slender (though relatively short) legs were clad in sheer, black stockings that shone a little. Like her stockings, her camisole and her panties shimmered alluringly. She was wearing high stiletto shoes. They were bright red. The black, white and red contrasted deliciously with each other and with the paleness of her skin.
She ran one hand teasingly up and down the leg that was resting on the bed. It was an overtly teasing and sexual action, and immediately he felt a tightening in his groin. Her legs were not long, but they looked longer in her red stiletto heels. At the same time he was very afraid of what she was going to say. Her facial expression betrayed no emotion other than a slight strain, which could have been anger, fear or even arousal, possibly even a mixture. It was simply impossible to guess.
With a thrill he realised that all the lingerie she was wearing he had caressed, stroked, nuzzled and kissed (along with other clothes of hers) while they were draped on the clothes maiden. Now, at last, and beyond his wildest expectation, here she was standing before him, alone in the house with him, and in his bedroom! – wearing nothing but them. Under her black panties her bum cheeks looked firm and shapely, and part of each was exposed by the cut of the fabric panties. Her pale skin contrasted deliciously with the black fabric. He raced his eyes up and down her black suspenders, one stretched taut and the other slack, and over the pale skin of her thighs above her stockingtops. He glanced back to her red stilettos.
She sat down at the top of the bed with her slender legs parted and with one knee bent and drawn towards her chin. His gaze drifted to the black triangle of her panties between her thighs, then back to the bright red of her shoes against her black stockings. She motioned to him to join her, but gestures to the bottom of the bed rather than beside her. Her expression was still aloof, and impossible to interpret, and her continuing silence made the atmosphere incredibly tense.
He felt a knot of fear tighten in his stomach.
He found the tension both an agony and an arousal as she stared at him without speaking. Despite his fear he risked a glance at her small, firm breasts under her camisole. It might be his imagination, but he thought her nipples looked a bit harder than they had when he entered the room.
Rather than sit, he lay on his side across the bed, at ninety degrees to her as she sat at the top and facing towards the foot of the bed. He was afraid and had no idea how things would unfold. He supposed she was teasing him like this as a punishment, to make him feel uncomfortable. After all, he told himself, she could not be tempting him for real – not after his lewd kiss and her consequent outrage. No, he reasoned, this must be some kind of kinky payback.
"As well as playing that trick on me tonight, you've been playing with my underwear, haven't you?" It was a statement, not a question.
