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.
When she called him over to begin the shoot, he caught a whiff of her perfume. He could have sworn she hadn't been wearing it earlier, when she met him at the door, but he couldn't think when she could have put it on. Maybe she kept a little bottle in the room somewhere and had applied some to her wrists - or maybe her neck.
Once Imelda had got the lighting the way she wanted it, she got Dan to adopt a number of poses - some formal, others less so. She got him to smile and to look serious, to make as if he was adjusting his tie and to make as if he was adjusting his cufflinks. She got him to turn, so she could capture him in profile, even to turn towards the backdrop with his back to her.
Then, she asked him to take the chair, which was out of shot, and to sit in that in a variety of poses. He seemed to be loosening up nicely and she was happy with the shots she was getting.
"Right!" she said. "Let's take five. You change into your casual gear, and I'll pop upstairs to get us some refreshments."
She knew he liked Red Bull, so she took a can out of the fridge and made a lime soda for herself. She had bought his favorite brand of sour cream and onion chips, and she put some in a bowl as a kind of reward for his cooperation and patience. She herself ate nothing. She wished to keep her palate sharp for the flavors she would be sampling later that day.
Dan's first choice both surprised and pleased Imelda. The look was what you might call "old money aesthetic" - the sort of thing a freshman might wear at Princeton. The off-white open-neck shirt, brown jacket and beige chinos were not the sort of thing she'd ever seen him wear before. He looked devilishly handsome. The clothes had been picked out with some care to make him look stylish rather than preppy.
Imelda wondered whether his mother or sister had helped him choose the outfit, but she preferred to think that Dan had done the work all by himself, with an eye to pleasing her. This time she opted for more casual poses, getting him to sit, then recline on the floor, as well as to sit backwards on the chair.
This time it was Dan who suggested he made another change. Imelda tried to keep her mien as composed as possible as he disappeared into the cubicle and zippered it shut. Internally, though, she was beginning to simmer. She had planned to suggest that they went "upstairs" (she meant to the bedroom) for the sportswear segment, but now she wasn't so sure. Everything was going so well that she was afraid of spoiling things by making the wrong move or going too fast.
When he emerged, Imelda was looking through the viewfinder of her camera. She straightened herself to see a vision which made her feel even more horny than she was already feeling. Dan was wearing a simple maroon T-shirt and washed blue jeans with subtle rips. She trembled as she got her first glimpse of his biceps, which were bulging proudly from the short sleeves. She could only imagine the bulge that would surely start stirring in his briefs (she hoped he was wearing briefs) as the photo shoot proceeded towards its climax.
"Right," said Imelda, with all the professionalism she could muster. "Let's get some shots of you in your football gear."
She couldn't wait to see him in his padded outfit. She wondered if he had brought his cleated shoes. They might cause him some inconvenience in the studio, but it wouldn't be practical to take full-body photos without them. Since his kit was yellow and blue, she thought she would try a starry night backdrop. She hoped he had packed a ball - and maybe a helmet too. It would be nice if she was able to take photos of him both wearing the helmet and without it.
Not only was he wearing boots with cleats, he was also carrying his helmet under his arm. When he turned to face her, Imelda could see that he had even applied eye black under his eyes! And his pants were so tight that she thought she could make out his manhood. Was it in something more than its normal dormant condition? Had he been playing with himself inside the little tent? He certainly seemed upbeat and was, by his standards, quite talkative.
"I thought it would look better if I made it as authentic as possible," he said. "Shall we do some without the helmet first?"
Imelda liked the way he was prepared to take control. This augured well for the Speedo session, she thought. She wanted very much to make a double entendre about his helmet, but wisely decided against it. She knew she must continue to play the role of the experienced older woman, but she couldn't afford to appear too streetwise or too vampy. All men wanted to be made to feel like they were the only lover worth his salt in the universe, and she felt certain that her nephew was no different. Not that she'd want him to be. She liked her men raw and macho. And Dan was all of that and - hopefully - a lot more.
