Dominated By My Nephew Pt 01

A few words from the author.

This is the first of a multi-part story about my nephew and me. But it's about a lot more than incest as he took control of me and made me his submissive as well as his mistress. I have posted it in the Mind Control section as that was what Neil mostly influenced and controlled, my mind. But I'm not sure that or BDSM or Incest is where it should be, maybe Erotic Couplings even? If, after reading it, you have any suggestions on where it should be posted they would be most welcome as, indeed, would any comments either positive or negative.

Just a little warning. My style is very much slow build up and that's particularly the case with this series and definitely so with this part. So if you're after 'wham bang ma'am' stuff then pass this by,

Enjoy with love from,

Jayne xx

AKA westjayne495

It all started with a hug. A congratulatory embrace to say well done for getting his masters. But it went a little further than that and lasted a little longer than such hugs should. And, I realised with a serious jolt, it implied things quite different to what was intended, well by me at least.

He was my sister's son who I had, of course, known all of his life. But, as she and her family, had moved to the US when he was seventeen I hadn't seen him much as he was changing from being a boy into a man. I had always got on well with him even doing some mild flirting when I visited them as my marriage was going tits up and when he and his family came home for visits. Now, after gaining a first-class degree and his masters in psychology from Harvard, he was returning to the UK to do his PhD.

Emma, my sister, had contacted me and asked if Neil, her son and my nephew, could stay with me for a while as he conducted research for his PhD and attended interviews for jobs in the UK. She explained that he had a place to live in Oxford where he'd conduct much of his research but needed somewhere in London for the other research and meetings. She said it shouldn't be for more than three months as he'd complete the writing of his dissertation back in Massachusetts.

I was in my late-forties at the time all this was going on and had been divorced for almost two years. As with many, possibly most, marriage break ups there were numerous reasons that caused it. Probably the main one being my career. I had got on well at the ad agency, I had rejoined after having my children and after several promotions was now Head of Copy for Europe. That entailed coordinating the ads prepared by agencies in twelve countries throughout the continent. Hence, long hours and entertaining when in London, where I lived, and lots of travel; I was away from home over half of each month.

I told her that I might not be home much and, as she knew, I wasn't much of a cook so he'd have to look after himself. She explained that he was very self-sufficient so he'd be able to cope.

After my divorce I had stayed on in the family four bedroomed house in Totteridge in north London so I had plenty of room. Fortunately, Sara my daughter was on a gap year travelling in Asia so there would be no cousinly romantic or, more relevantly sexual, temptations.

I was quite amazed when I met Neil off the train from Oxford at Paddington station in west London; amazed and I have to say, impressed. Dressed casually in jeans and a baggy shirt with a Mulberry bag hanging from one shoulder and holding suitcases on wheels with both hands he was, without doubt one hell of a hunk and I thanked my lucky stars that Sara would not be home whilst Neil was there.

It was there on Paddington station that the hug took place. When he saw me walking towards him he let go of the handles of the cases and holding his arms out pulled me into an embrace. He held me tightly against him, squashing my full breasts against his chest and dislodging my glasses kissed me on both cheeks. Looking up at him and smiling I said, "Welcome to London Neil," as I expected him to release me but he didn't. Instead he ran his hands up and down my back and replied.

"Hello Aunty it's lovely to see and.......," Adding after a short pause, "To er, um feel you as well."

The feel of my body against his and his hands running up and down my back kept running through me as I drove him home. We chatted quite easily on the way although, I did feel a little concerned at seeing him quite often glance at my legs that were slightly parted with my skirt having ridden up making me wish I'd worn jeans instead of having been to work and was in a business suit.

As I settled him into my home he confirmed my positive and hunk impression of him as I saw him shirtless a couple of times and he added politeness, intelligence, sensitivity and, most of all, confidence to his list of personal attributes. We got on well although in some ways he seemed to be rather too much at home too quickly and started taking over a little. After being single for getting on for three years I was finding effectively living with a man rather trying as I had to alter my way of life quite a lot. There was no more walking around naked or sitting at my desk working in just a pair of panties and, of course, I had to be discrete with the washing and ironing of my underwear. They were only relatively small things but I had to be on my guard and aware of him being there all the time we were in the house together. As it happens, during the first couple of weeks I was away for a few days and was out entertaining several evenings and he had a few interview dinners so we were rather like ships passing in the night. That said, when we were at home together, we got on well and several times I thought he was flirting with me as he made a few come-on remarks and held eye contact with me rather longer than was necessary; a sure sign, I'd learned over the years, of a guy's interest or maybe intent.

"So where are you taking me?" he asked when I told him that we were going out on the coming Friday to celebrate his Masters to which he replied looking right into my eyes, "What like a date then?"

That put me out of my stride a little and flustered me. That was something that had happened several times over the past few weeks. "Yes, er no, no not like a date more like an aunt taking her nephew out to celebrate."

"Yeah right so where is our date?

"Annabels, have you heard of it?" I asked adding, "And it's not a date Neil."

"Yes, of course, I do read the papers you know, very posh, why there, it sounds great and perfect for our er, celebration if you insist on calling it that?"

"Well the agency recently took out a membership as it's very exclusive, I thought it'd impress and please you," I told him.

"Why do you want to impress me Aunty?" he rather slyly came back using my family title rather than my name as he had done most of the time. That made me wonder why I did feel the need to impress him.

"Well I just thought you'd like it."

"Actually Jayne, I'd like anywhere you take me it'll be great being out with you on a non-date," he replied grinning and sending a little shiver through me for some reason.

Other than a couple of dinners, one of which was a take away and the other a salad as cooking isn't my thing, and passing each other in the mornings we hardly saw each other before the Friday when I was able to work from home. Neil had a meeting in the morning so I was able to get my work finished by mid-afternoon leaving me plenty of time to pamper myself and get ready. I had made an early reservation so had arranged for a car to collect us at six-thirty for the drive into Mayfair which could take an hour on a Friday evening when traffic is always a nightmare. It must have been around four when I came downstairs in a dressing gown to take some washing out of the machine and bumped into Neil who'd just come in. Smiling as he looked me up and down he said, "Is it that sort of date Jayne?"

"What do you mean?"

"A come as you are do, perhaps I'd better undress," he told me as the penny dropped.

Laughing as I ran my fingers through my shortish, naturally blonde, slightly spiky hair, I replied, "Mmmmm, I wonder how that'd go down in Annabels. No, I'm just about to wash my hair."

"Well let me know if you need someone to dry it, mum tells me I'm quite a good hair dryer?"

"You dry Em's hair?" I asked feeling surprised.

"He looked away as he replied, "Yes now and then, I like doing it."

"What blow dry it?"

"Yes we both enjoy it."

As I went back upstairs I found myself wondering about him and Emma and the hair drying episode even feeling a little shiver go through me when I thought of him standing behind me as I sat looking into the mirror with his hands in my hair.

"Wow you look fantastic," he gushed when I came downstairs and into the lounge where he was waiting. I was wearing a figure hugging, dark blue, pencil skirt with a hem a few inches above my knees and a white, silky blouse with buttons up the front the top two of which I usually left undone thus flashing some cleavage. For some, inexplicable reasons I'd decided on black holdups to go with my four-inch, black patent heels and I had only left one button undone on the blouse. I felt pretty good and looking at him thought that he did too. He was wearing a dark suit with an open neck, white shirt which was just right for the occasion. As I looked at him, I could hardly believe that suddenly the thought that we made a good-looking couple flashed into my mind. That was made worse when his words about a date also buzzed around it.

Although not having been anywhere like it before Neil was obviously quite impressed with Annabels and with the confidence that most Americans seem to have he took it all in his stride and seemed at ease. Chatting away in the car and in the nightclub I got to know him better and I learned more about him than I had from living with him for over two weeks. But I couldn't get his date remarks out of my head and several times I saw people looking at us and clearly wondering whether we were a couple. That made me feel embarrassed which was made worse by the what seemed to me to be the intense way he looked at me, though of course, that may have been my imagination!

I enjoyed hosting him although I did feel ill at ease when people stared at us taking in the older woman and younger guy pairing and reaching their own conclusions. Towards the end of the evening when I was imagining what four guys on a nearby table were thinking about us, I felt an unexpected little shudder of excitement go through me. Looking at Neil, I saw that his eyes met mine and rather too obviously his gaze moved downwards and locked onto my chest. Although, like most full-chested women I was used to men leering at my boobs and, indeed, the guys on the nearby table had done their fair share of that, it felt odd to have my nephew doing it and so blatantly. As he looked up and our gazes met again, he grinned and slightly raised his eyebrows. I didn't get what he meant until nodding at the four guys he said. "I wonder just what they're thinking about us Jay, what do you reckon?" using my shortened name that only those close to me including his mother used.

Without really thinking I replied. "I guess what four guys out on the raz usually think about a guy and a woman."

Leaning forward he said quietly, "And what's that?"

Quickly gathering my thoughts I said, "That it's nice of the mum taking her son out to Annabels, maybe."

"You really think that Jayne?"

"Oh I don't know," I said quickly, wanting to change the direction of the conversation.

"Hmmmm I doubt it's that, guys out together have dirty minds you know."

I could tell that the cocktails and the wine were starting to talk mainly for Neil but also to an extent with me as well as he slid his hand across the table and placed it on top of mine. "What are you doing?" I asked as he laughed and replied.

"Just giving them something more to think about."

I tried as discretely as possible to pull my hand away but he held it tighter and looking right into my eyes went on with, "Now what do you reckon they're thinking?"

I avoided replying by waving my other hand at the waiter for the bill and saying, "I think it's time to go," as Neil, rather reluctantly it seemed, removed his hand from mine. As I signed the bill and we got ready to leave I felt strange. It hit me that I was no longer I looking at him as a kid or my nephew but more as a mature man. Okay, he looked his age but his manner and way of relating to me were far from that. I was realising that we looked and to an extent were behaving more like a couple on a date than an aunt treating her nephew to a celebratory dinner. As he had quite often stared into my eyes, albeit through my glasses, held my hand and quite unashamedly ran his gaze up and down my body locking it on my breasts, I hadn't at first been able to work out what was happening between us. Naturally, being a divorced woman in a man's world I was used to men trying it on with me and was able, generally quite easily, to divert their interest. But this was different although, I wasn't sure how it was.

This difference intensified as we stood waiting in the foyer for our car that I had called up rather less than the twenty minutes notice the driver had asked for. We were standing close together with a few other couples and as we moved towards the front door I felt his arm go around my waist and his hand rest on my hip. It was the sort of gesture my ex had done many times as had guys I had dated since the divorce. 'But he's not a fucking date,' I kept telling myself when he didn't remove it and, if anything increased the pressure on my waist and hip. I didn't know what to do. I felt embarrassed at what others might be seeing and thinking but also confused as to what he meant by it. Moreover and extremely worryingly it suddenly hit me that I was enjoying the feelings of being embraced by him. 'Was it just a familiar, friendly gesture or did it have more significance?' I was thinking wishing the bloody driver would call when he was outside as we'd agreed. But most of all I was quite horrified to realise that also, I was feeling excited. I was becoming slightly aroused by my nephew having his arm around me. I plucked up courage and looking up at his six feet three inches I whispered, "I think you ought to take it away Neil."

Holding my gaze and smiling he mouthed back, "Why?" and left it there as he pulled me slightly closer to him so that my other hip was against his leg as he said, thankfully quietly but fairly firmly, "Don't tell me you don't like it Aunty!"

"That's not the point is it Neil?"

"Isn't it? Are you sure?" he asked in an authoritative though soft tone of voice.

"Stop it, please," I hissed.

"Why I know you like it so why stop?"

I knew that I was being outtalked which was unusual for me as in my job I have to negotiate a lot and make high-level presentations so I am used to verbal confrontation. But Neil was verbally very adroit and despite, or maybe because of, the wine he was controlling the direction of our conversation and taking over our physical relationship. I could hardly believe that I was letting him do that or that I was feeling a sort of gratefulness to him that I simply couldn't understand so I did nothing other than cross my fingers and hoped that the car would arrive soon. Fortunately it did and we clambered into the back seats. Almost as soon as we pulled away and certainly before we were out of Berkley Square he had moved closer to me although the back seat on the Merc was quite spacious so that our legs from my hip to knee were touching. I moved away and looked at him shaking my head but cheekily he mouthed, "Why not?" and pressed his against mine again. Then, just after we turned into Piccadilly he slid his arm around my shoulders. Obviously, I wanted to push it off and, indeed, I tried to but he resisted and was far too strong. I didn't dare say anything as the driver would certainly hear and the agency used him frequently so after looking at Neil and making a face that tried to say remove it, I gave up. Noticing that my struggles had stopped he pulled me towards him and my head rested on his chest. Although I knew it was wrong and a big part of me wanted to stop, it did feel nice. It had been a long time since I had felt such affection and that made me, for some reason, recall the last time I'd had sex which I then realised was getting on for nearly a year and that quite shocked me. Nevertheless, I snuggled up to him and he responded by holding me tighter.

All too soon in some ways we were moving up Finchley Road, into Totteridge and pulling into my driveway. Once inside I turned and faced him and in almost a snarl said. "What the fuck was that all about?"

"What was what all what about?" he replied as cool as a cucumber.

"You know full well."

"Maybe I do but you need to tell me to make sure we are both on the same wave-length."

"Don't be silly Neil you know perfectly well what I mean," I said switching the lights on and walking into the kitchen with him following me.

"How about a night cap? After the cheap piss at Annabels a good old bottle of five quid Tesco's plonk'll taste great" he asked smiling and, bugger it, making me smile too.

"I think we've had enough and it's not a laughing matter," I told him sounding as serious as I could.

Totally ignoring what I said he remarked. "One more will be fine, shall I open the wine?" he asked walking to the fridge. Without thinking I said that he could and watched him pour two generously full glasses, move close to me and hand me one as he said, "What did I do wrong?"

"What did you do wrong. For Christ's sake Neil I'm your aunt not some bird you're taking out on a date."

"And?" he asked sipping his wine and once more running his gaze up and down my body and focusing on my breasts that I realised were feeling heavy and warm. I could hardly believe that was happening as it's the signs of my arousal building up.

"What do you mean and?" I asked brusquely.

"Just that," he replied moving even closer to me so that we were no more than three or four feet apart, "What's your problem?"

"Touching me, holding my hand, putting your arm around me waiting for the car and in it."

"Just being a friendly nephew Aunty," he smiled as he once more let his gaze focus on my boobs.

"And that," I snapped.

"What?"

"You know."

"No I don't, tell me," he said reaching out and taking hold of my hand that was resting on the work surface.

"You do know what you're doing," I retorted.

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't so help me out Jayne by telling me."

"Ogling me for a start," I said rather lamely my resolve having weakened as the conversation went on.

"What do you mean?"

His false obtuseness got to me and losing my rag a bit I said, "You keep staring at my tits."

"Of course I do and why not Aunty they're lovely, you've got a great rack as we call them in Boston."

Rather ridiculously and quite out of character I mumbled, "Thanks," but then realising what he'd said registering with me I went on rather sharply, "But you shouldn't say things like that to me."

As if we were talking about anything other than my boobs he replied, "You're welcome Jayne. Now what and why shouldn't I?"

"Because well, it's er, um they're personal."

"That's as maybe but I bet they're lovely and far too good to keep covered up so what do we do about them?"

"What do you mean?" I asked as he topped up our glasses.

"Just that, what do we do about them now?"

"What do you mean do about them?"

He stunned me with his reply which was, "Well can I see them, I'd love to?" he said moving even closer and squeezing my hand as he went on, "You would like to show them to me wouldn't you?"

I was completely bemused and shocked at what he was saying and even more so at my reaction as I realised that deep down I half wanted to do that. 'Fuck,' I thought, 'What the hell's happening to me even thinking that I'd show my tits to him.' After a few moments I managed to stammer. "Don't be silly."