It was somewhat ironic, I thought, as I licked obediently at my aunt's moist pussy while she lay on her poolside recliner in the dry Arizona heat, that my predicament had been caused by a female domination magazine entitled, very appropriately, "Mistress Knows Best". Perhaps I'd better explain, because it all happened more than 15 years ago - in 1989.
I was 20-years-old and my Aunt Pat 18 years my senior, but she was a stunningly built, still hugely attractive brunette. I had been sent out to Pat's superb lifestyle block on the outskirts of Flagstaff by my step-mother, Karla, a gorgeous but haughty 35-year-old, who had just married my father, a wealthy industrialist. Pat was her older sister and had attended the wedding in London where we had chatted over a glass of bubbly at the "wedding breakfast" and she insisted I call her "aunty". Silly, really, but I found it rather amusing.
The holiday was to last for a month, before I went back to learn the ropes at my father's industrial empire. On arrival at Los Angeles International, I had taken a cab around the area while waiting for my connecting flight to Flagstaff.
During the drive I spotted an adult bookstore, got the cabbie to stop, and it was there I purchased the magazine that was to change my life. It was wrapped in clear plastic, of course, but the title - "Mistress Knows Best" - and the picture of the beautiful PVC-clad dominatrix on the title page was enough to persuade me to part with $7. It was the best $7 I ever spent!
The magazine was published - I know because I still have it - by Holly Publications, and consisted of four photo spreads and the one entitled "Wild With Desire" starring the stunner on the cover was cock-raising material.
Anyway, I climbed back in the cab and was soon in the little Western Airlines commuter plane on the flight to Flagstaff. Aunty Pat, a tallish brunette with superb 40-inch breasts, was there to chauffeur me back to her spread, some miles out of town. It was a luxurious, secluded place, with a magnificent swimming pool and large, lush lawns.
On arrival, Aunt Pat threw my only bag - I travelled light, just some underwear, swimming trunks, jeans, T-shirts and shirts - onto the bed in the guest bedroom and we went into the huge kitchen where she fixed me lunch. Sadly - no, make that fortunately - she pressed a couple of Coors beers on me, or maybe three.
By now I feeling a little light headed and told her I needed a nap - London to LA was a long flight. She smiled and kissed me lightly on the cheek. She smelt of wheat, and I wanted her. But I also wanted to get away from her - I was desperate to check out my domination mag, of course. Soon I was on the bed, naked, hand on my eight-inch uncut cock, stroking myself as I perved over the pictures, especially the "Wild With Desire" ones. Then, I must have fallen asleep.
The next thing I knew I was awake. Judging by the light in the room it was well into the evening. I sat bolt upright and there - sitting in an easy chair by the foot of the bed was Aunty Pat. She was, you guessed it, thumbing through "Mistress Knows Best". I scrambled for the sheet to cover myself, but it had fallen off the foot of the bed. Then I looked at Aunty Pat and suddenly felt my penis start to stir. She was a stunning sight.
Her lovely big breasts were covered by a shiny red satin brassiere, with black edging. On her hips was a shiny black PVC miniskirt. One leg was crossed over the other, displaying a wonderful expanse of bronzed thigh.
She was wearing blood red high heels. I pulled a pillow and plunked it across my groin to hide my swiftly rising cock. Pat looked up at me and smiled. Then she put her hand on the table beside her chair and threw a bundle at me. "Have a look at those, you naughty boy, you," she laughed, and I saw the things I took to be paper were, in fact, about a dozen garishly-coloured Polaroid prints. Each showed me, cock in hand, perving on my purchase. "Aunty Pat," I tried to bluster, "you've been spying on me!"
Pat laughed, laying the magazine down. "On the contrary - my housekeeper, Anita has been doing the spying! Anita, get in here!"
Into the bedroom stepped a hard-faced but quite attractive raven-haired woman, some years younger than my aunt. Her beautifully bronzed body was nude save for a black satin garter belt, shiny black stockings and black high-heeled shoes. Her breasts were smaller than Pat's - later I found they were 34-inch beauties - and her pubic bush was jet black and trimmed back to allow a clear view of her piss flaps peeping below the crew-cut hair style.
Pat introduced me: "This is Anita Armitage, my housekeeper and partner - she took those pictures through a crack in the door which leads into my room adjoining this. Being a faithful employee-confidante, she thought she should show them to me. Rick - you really are a very naughty boy, aren't you?"
"No I'm not," I protested, "I'm just a perfectly normal, highly-sexed 20-year-old who enjoys looking at pictures of pretty women!" Pat sniggered. "Oh yes, pretty women - look what one of them is saying - 'Do you want to worship my tits, my arse, my cunt - well on your knees, slave'. Lovely. You're a freak for femdom, Rick, admit it!" I lowered my face, Aunty Pat had me there, and to my great relief, I poured it out.
"Well, since it's pretty obvious, yes, I do fancy being a wonderful woman's sex slave, aunty. You win!" I confessed. Pat grinned at me, and threw another magazine across. "And take that silly pillow away, Rick, we both know what you look like now!"
Sheepishly, I put the pillow behind me, on top of the other two and sat propped up, my cock still stiffly standing high. The magazine that Aunty Pat had tossed over was a German publication, with a young woman wearing a bright red PVC playsuit featured on the cover. It was called something "Sklaven der PVC" or some such thing. "Look at the centerspread," said my "aunt".
When I got there I saw a spread of some eight or nine shots of Aunty Pat - named by the magazine "Mistress Helga", but it was obviously Aunty Pat. She was erotically clad in a black PVC playsuit, which was open-fronted and exposed her magnificent 40-inch superstructure. The suit had a zip which ran from the navel back to the small of the back. In every shot, the suit was unzipped, exposing Pat's brown-haired pussy. In every shot she was posing with a many-tailed flogger. By the time I'd finished scanning the pictures I was as stiff as a policeman's nightstick!
"I was given the playsuit after the shoot," Pat informed me, looking with interest at my hard-on. "Like me to model it for you?" I nodded so enthusiastically it's a wonder my head didn't part company with my shoulders. "God yes," I breathed. Pat smiled and turned to Anita. "First let's see if he's going to be up to our demanding standards, shall we Anita? Try him out!" With that, the raven-haired beauty stepped to the side of the bed, kicked her shoes off and climbed onto the mattress.
