Author's note:
This is a taboo "forbidden fruit" story, but not incest. I wanted to make sure I let you know up front. Enjoy!
*
It all began last year, during the holiday season. As happened each year, one of the Christmas cards that arrived in the mail was from childhood family friend Betty-Lou and her family, all in elf costumes. It was adorable: Betty-Lou, her husband, two kids, their dog and cat, all in little elf costumes.
It was a spectacular photo, perfect lighting, and it looked perfectly staged, down to details like a Santa's workshop in the background, a naughty/nice spreadsheet in Santa's hand, everything. It was perfect.
In fact, it was beyond perfect for me, because there was one tiny little mistake in the photo. Betty-Lou's outfit was green and elf-like, but was made with somewhat thin fabric. So for a person like me with a nose for things like this (I suppose eyes?), her nipples were poking out ever so subtly.
So of course, I also scanned it, loaded it into Photoshop, zoomed in and blew up Betty-Lou, modified the brightness and contrast to further accentuate the nipple outline, adjusted the color curve, and applied dodge and burn (no, it's not a sex act, it's something you do with photo editing software.) I spent over an hour (you know, perfectly normal, right?). The nipple outline was spectacular. Her perky breasts were magnificent.
Betty-Lou was one of the "always around" members of my childhood circle of family and friends, more so my older sister's friend, but nonetheless always around. And like quite a few of us, she ended up buying a home and setting up shop back in our childhood home town. Except now we were grown up, with houses, jobs, mortgages, and lawns.
She still lived just a few blocks away, but as was the Christmas card tradition, you knew that when a person uses a family portrait as their Christmas card, that they had dozens, perhaps hundreds printed up, and used that card for everyone. So basically, everyone she knew got that same card, including my mother, my sister, Aunt Deb, and really, everyone we had known growing up in this little enclave we called our home town.
I made a joke about it to Aunt Deb. She rolled her eyes at me and shook her head, in that all so common "you're disgusting" headshake she would give me. I was so thrilled that my relationship with Aunt Deb had evolved into our close, yet somewhat odd friendship.
***
I've know he all my life. I'm her patient. In fact, if you go back in time, she was my pediatrician way back when. And when I grew up, just circumstances, she remained my doctor. Through it all; High school graduation, College, adulthood. Why is she still my doctor? I don't know. Sure, it was a little awkward the year I turned 25. "Happy fuckin' Birthday," I thought to myself as she examined my prostate in her office. I remembered the time earlier where I was playing basketball every day, and wearing my gym pants all day long. And Aunt Deb had my pants fully down and off as she diagnosed and treated me for one of those nasty fungal infections that you get if you wear sweaty gym shorts for too long a time. Suffice it to say, in this bizarrely circular world, Aunt Deb had seen me naked many times in her role as doctor.
She's also my mother's friend. I grew up in one of those environments where you called your parent's close friends aunt or uncle. She was Aunt Deb. I dated her daughter for a few months. She caught us fooling around once. She saw my dick that time too, as she walked in on me getting a hand job from her daughter. Add one more time to the list of times Aunt Deb had seen my dick.
I've done legal work for her. And before that happened, I had been her notary public, I signed and witnessed her divorce papers. She taught me Sunday school as a kid. When I became a teen volunteer, she was my mentor, for leading some of the Sunday school activities. We now are board members of the church committee, so we both are Sunday school teachers together at church. I teach at the nearby community college. She is one of my students.
So now our new reality is we see one another in person at least four times a week. She's still my cool aunt. And our relationship has evolved to where I make bad jokes, and she laughs and rolls her eyes at me. That's how it came to be, that I was pointing out Betty-Lou's nipples to her as we put together the agenda for next Sunday's lessons.
Then there's the complicated part. What is it about her? Why is she all I think about?
I suppose on one level, it's obvious. Circumstances have us in each other's vicinity in our social circles. And at work. And on the weekends when I visit my mother's house. Was it the time her finger was in my ass? No, I suppose that was purely professional. I imagined her saying "Trust me, I'm a doctor," naked. Maybe it was her outfits. Her tendency to wear nothing but leather flip flop sandals, showing off her little feet and toes? The way she smelled, whether it was her everyday scent, or how she smelled when she was all sweaty when she took on her projects? Or perhaps it was her sense of humor. Or the way she listened. The way every time she saw a weed in a lawn, she bent right over to pick it up, pivoting at her hips, not her knees. I had only been near enough for a proper view a couple times, most often I was far enough away, I could only enjoy from afar.
Maybe it was how in earlier times, she was almost our size, given her very petite frame. I was taller than her by age nine, over twenty years ago. Most of the girls at school were taller than her by age twelve. I've since learned she's five feet one inch tall and weighs 105 pounds. Now in her mid-fifties, she still has that body of a teenager. Ok, I guess I have a lot of reasons to think about her when I masturbate.
In hindsight as I thought through it all, it's actually obvious why I felt this way. She had always been the "cool" adult back when we were younger. The one who could relate to us. It continued into teen years, young adult years, and grownup years. She crossed generations. More than once, she had been the voice of reason when I was heartbroken over a crush gone badly. And although who's keeping count (five times), she had pulled me aside and given me tips in no uncertain terms, when she spotted girls who seemed interested in me. Yes, Aunt Deb had perhaps not directly, helped me have sex.
Even when her daughter dumped me for a better offer, she very gracefully was supportive of me and you could see she was rolling her eyes at the way her daughter behaved during that time of her life. (Who am I kidding; her daughter is still a conceited woman always with an eye out for a better offer. She was off skiing this year instead of helping her mother throw this party we were all involved with.)
Then the very next day, a card arrived from Janelle, another childhood friend; this was also Janelle in an elf costume, with her cat and dog also in elf costumes. What was the deal with family portraits of people dressed as elves? In the picture, Janelle was wearing leggings as part of her elf outfit, except, also by accident, a delightful accidental camel toe was there to be seen. Well, it certainly was there to be seen if you scanned it into Photoshop, then brightened it, adjusted the contrast. But who would do a thing like that? I was proud of my skills. It took a different set of skills to highlight a camel-toe compared to a nipple outline.
I suppose it's worth mentioning, having grown up around them, there was a history. Betty-Lou quite often skipped bras. Janelle wore leggings all the time. It was a small thing, a perk, a little thing you had to think about from time to time.
I decided not to mention this to to Aunt Deb. Somehow, I was willing to joke about nipple pokings, but admitting I was staring at camel-toes seemed awkward. (Also, occasionally Aunt Deb didn't change after her yoga class, and her yoga pants, although they didn't make a camel-toe, they did cling between her ass cheeks, making the most delectable view a person could ever imagine. I didn't want to say anything to alert anybody to change their ways. I dreamed Aunt Peg sending out a postcard of her bent over pulling a dandelion out of the ground, but no such luck. She sent a traditional card, not even a photo.
All I can say, is I most definitely saved the scans of those two Christmas cards.
But that was all last Christmas. Fast forward one year. This year, there was a neighborhood Christmas party, and this year Aunt Deb volunteered her house (along with Betty-Lou, Janelle, and I to be co-hosts and helpers) for the locale. To make it fun, those of us volunteering to help out would be in costumes. Obviously, I was going to be the Grinch.
It was quite by coincidence that Betty-Lou was at the house during that costume discussion. "Hey, you should wear the elf outfit from last year's card!" I saw Aunt Deb glaring at me, although it was in jest.
"Hmm, not a bad idea!" She said. Aunt Deb was off in the background, still shaking her head at me.
"You totally should. It really accentuated your eyes too!" God, that was brilliant of me. It was a slightly over the top comment, but I had never pursued Betty-Lou romantically. I was able to pass off the flattery of her eyes without it being perceived as a come-on.
The conversation shifted, and all of a sudden, they were ALL going to wear elf costumes. I guess that meant Aunt Deb would have to wear an elf costume too. No complaints there, maybe she'd wear the yoga pants that clung between her ass cheeks. I could only hope.
The news spread to Janelle. I had the opportunity to tell her how great last years elf costume looked, that all she needed was to change the hat. Aunt Deb didn't think anything of this comment, because I had kept the camel-toe thing to myself.
With a little luck, both Betty-Lou and Janelle would be wearing their outfits from last years postcards, Betty-Lou with nipples poking through, Janelle with her camel-toe, and yes, Aunt Deb with her leggings clinging tightly to and in between her great ass cheeks.
The party was all planned. Almost on an impulse, I ended up inviting my boss and his wife, knowing that his wife was an important person at the university medical school. And Aunt Deb was a sales rep for a medical supply company.
The evening arrives. It ended up being the four of us who had done most of the coordinating for the party, so we were more going to be "on duty" rather than able to sit around and enjoy the party. I knew my place in this group. I arrived before everyone else.
Aunt Deb scolded me in advance. "Don't stare at her breasts when she shows up!" I was taking a picture of the folding table, with all the name cards and the guestbook laid out.
"I promise!" I said jokingly. As if on cue, Aunt Deb bent over, away from me, to pick up the name placards out of the box. Her leggings were hugging her ass cheeks tight. And wow. Camel toe too! And a one in a million opportunity, the little depression in the contour of her ass cheeks surrounding her asshole was nicely visible too! That was a surprise. A pleasant one. All the times I had seen her bending over to garden, I had rarely been this close. And since the camera was in my hand already, I was able to surreptitiously get a shot off of her ass as she was bent forward to pull other things out of the box too. Photoshop would be my friend later. This was a wonderfully unexpected bonus.
Betty-Lou and Janelle showed up, and we had about 30 minutes before the official party would start. Betty-Lou walked up to me, in the Elf outfit. My radar instantly told me though; she had on a bra this time. Don't get me wrong, she looked spectacular, but not as nice as it would have been without a bra.
"Ouch!" I blurted out, as she punched me on the shoulder. With her petite little hands, the surface area of the punch was small and focused, so it hurt.
"You are dis-gusss-ting!" she scolded. It was in a playful manner, but I knew in an instant what had happened. "Debra told me what you said." Betty-Lou didn't call her Aunt Deb, only I did. "And you are disgusting!"
