Chapter Fourteen
Now that Melanie had received her early Christmas present, Imelda turned her thoughts and her considerable powers of organization to making sure her brother received the special gift she had for him. Indeed, when they were all around the tree on Christmas Day and his turn came to unwrap his gift from his uncle and aunt, she managed to take advantage of the general hubbub to shepherd him to one side and whisper into his ear.
"You'll be getting a much better present from me before you go back to school. It's one I know you'll really like."
"Er, really?" Dan replied, having completely forgotten about the photo session.
"Yes, and we must fix a date before you head off this evening. I'll speak to your mother about it."
Dan reddened when he recalled the terrible embarrassment he had felt when his aunt had talked about taking pictures of him in his Speedos. But that wasn't the only source of discomfort he was feeling. Suddenly, he became aware that he was sporting a massive erection. Mumbling a hurried and incoherent apology to his aunt, he fled from the room and took refuge in the further bathroom he could find.
He had wanted only to find a quiet space where he could think of other things and wait it out until his hard-on had dissipated, but once he got there he pulled his pants down and started wanking furiously. His mind was flooded with images of his aunt holding a camera and wearing a kimono (a very short kimono). As she crouched down to get better shots, her creamy tits were visible. Soon, the kimono had virtually fallen apart. The cord that was holding it together was unraveling before his eyes. Now it had come completely undone, revealing not just her tits but her fat pussy lips.
Without waiting to clear it with her, he had pulled his Speedos off and had pushed her against the wall, as if he was a policeman and she a suspect. Lifting up the tiny patch of silk that was covering her ass, he brought his rock-hard penis to her juicy pussy and drove it inside her in one easy movement.
"Aw, fuck!" he grunted, both in his fantasy and in the concrete reality of that bathroom way up in the attic.
He could only watch on as a wad of his spunk arced onto the tiles near the toilet bowl.
"Fuck, I needed that!" he told himself. "She's such a fucking cock-tease!"
It wasn't the first time he had jerked off to her, but it was by far the most explosive. Since he knew that he could never actually have her, these moments of release helped to keep him sane. They also helped him to train harder, to pump more iron, to run the extra mile. One day too, he would find himself a nice girl and then he would be able to banish every memory of his sexy aunt.
"No, damn it!" he scolded himself. "She won't be sexy any longer when I've found a girl my own age with whom I can really communicate and share things."
Having cleaned up, he went back to join the party, which numbered nearly 20 people that year, what with grandparents and other family members. He tried to avoid Imelda, and was initially pleased when he couldn't see her in the living room.
"On god, she must have a sixth sense!" he groaned internally, as she slipped up to him and actually touched him. Make that, more like rubbed against him.
"Feel better now?" she said, with what appeared to him to be a mocking tone, but which was in fact something much friendlier.
She could smell his jism, although in point of fact it wasn't that obvious. It's just that if you're looking out for something, you're always more likely to find it. She decided against mentioning it, though. She didn't want to frighten him off. She liked it this way just fine. He could jerk off all he wanted thinking about her. She might even jerk off if she got a spare moment thinking about him.
"It think it was the cranberry sauce, Aunt Imelda," he said, with commendable poise. "Much better now, thanks."
Suffice it to say, after this preamble, as it were, it wasn't that difficult for the two of them to find a convenient date in the first week of January. Imelda took a calculated gamble and dressed down, picking out a collarless V-neck white blouse and a beige pantsuit, with matching beige sandals.
"Easy to kick off!" Imelda laughed.
As discussed, Dan arrived dressed in his best suit (a dark grey double-breasted one). Imelda would then shoot him in casual wear (he must have brought several changes of clothes, judging by the size of his bag), and finally in sportswear - his football garb followed (oh yes! she was so looking forward to this) by his "swimwear."
Imelda had decided to do the more formal portraits in her studio in the basement, which was equipped with continuous lights, strobes, shoot-through and bounce-back umbrellas and a variety of backdrops. She opted to go with the standard white backdrop for the early part of the shoot, at any rate. In the corner of the room she had installed a pop-up changing room - a canopy frame covered by polyester "walls", the front one being equipped with a zipper.
Dan was clearly impressed by the set-up. He had never been in Imelda's studio before, and spent time looking at her photographs of industrial landscapes (many of them of decaying industrial landscapes) while she fiddled around with her equipment.
"Some of these are pretty cool," he said, careful not to be too effusive in his praise, in case his aunt got ideas.
"But ideas of what?" he might have asked himself, if he had not felt in such a professional and comfortable environment.
He had to say that his aunt looked very nice. He preferred it when she dressed her age. He sometimes got embarrassed when she dressed more provocatively, inviting his gaze to her cleavage. Sometimes she wore skirts with slits at the side, and when she crossed her legs her thighs would be revealed, if only for a few seconds, until she uncrossed them. Once she had caught him looking there, and she had smiled at him when her gaze met his. He hardly knew where to look. His parents were there too, and he was convinced that they would talk to him about his behavior later. But they never did.
