In the Bac Seat with Aunt Nia

I did have a proper graduation trip that summer, after finishing art school. But my real graduation was riding back East with Aunt Nia in the back seat of the family van. I learned a lot. I recount my story here as a contribution to the "in the backseat with mother" sub-sub-subgenre. (You'll have to read on to see how that's possible.) It's a slow build before it heats up, but that's just how things happened. Drop a message if you want me to post the sketches.

Thank you to Samantha Turner and BriM_0261 for excellent editing help.

In art school I concentrated on sculpture and drawing--pencil and charcoal sketches, sometimes fluid and fast, sometimes slow and realistic. My passion is sculpture, though. I'm pretty good at it. Good enough to earn a master's degree at a prestigious art conservatory in Washington State. The drawings and sculptures I do are all of people, busts or heads, faces, but my favorite is the whole human form. Sometimes in rough shapes, but often realistic in the style the ancients taught us. Our bodies connect us to the world, to others, and allow us expression. Emotion emerges from the exploration of our bodies. We are not separate from our bodies.

Perhaps I am a romantic.

My graduation project was a life-size sculpture of a nude couple in an embrace: She standing and he at her feet reaching up and wrapping around her legs. A play on a famous Renaissance sculpture. I called it

Couple Embracing

. My professors thought I should exhibit it, enter it into shows and competitions. But first, the problem was how to get it home to Maine.

An art freight business would have been prohibitively expensive. I couldn't even really afford to rent a U-Haul one way. In the end, we went with my father's suggestion: They would come to my graduation and we'd make a road trip out of it. He measured and measured our three-row minivan and was sure it would work. My dad is the ultimate nerd and loves figuring stuff like this out. And he also loves to drive, to the point where he won't let anybody else drive. After graduation, we'd pack up all my artwork and drive back cross country. In addition, my Aunt Nia (my mother's twin sister) would take a bus up from Portland, join us for the road trip, and spend some weeks with us, like she did most summers. Dad kept texting me about the route he was picking, and motels we could stay at, some stops we could make along the way, like Yellowstone National Park.

I was cramming to get my last pieces done for my senior exhibition, working around the clock in the studio. Finally, I turned in all my works, finished my portfolio and submitted it, completed a paper and a couple of finals, and was done.

* * *

Day One

My parents arrived the day before the commencement and helped me wrap and pack everything.

Couple Embracing

was the biggest challenge: It was in a pyramid-shaped box with a large base, secured with straps inside, and the only way it fit in the van was on its side, in the second row, with the middle seat removed, the point of the pyramid facing the back of the van. The base was like a wooden wall across practically the width of the van, leaving just a few inches on each side. There was literally not an inch to spare above or below. Dad was extremely pleased and kept talking about how he was prepared to take the sliding door off, but it turned out he didn't have to. The rest of the second row was crammed with artwork in protective cases and boxes and folders.

When we set off, it was Dad driving and Mom up front, and Aunt Nia and me in the back, in the third row. The middle row was completely blocked, and it was almost like there was a wooden barrier between the cab and the back. Even in the third row, the space in front of the middle seat was occupied by the top of the box for

Couple Embracing

, and a third person would barely have fit. I settled in behind the driver seat in that third row, and Aunt Nia was on the passenger side. I looked across at her, and she smiled back and dug her Kindle out of her bag.

Aunt Nia keeps her hair short and a little boyish, but Mom's hair is long. They are identical twins. Nia looks almost identical to my mother, down to the way she moves and some of her gestures. Most people can't tell them apart when she stays with us. I wouldn't confuse them, they are clearly different people to me, even when they wear the same lipstick color to mess with people. When they were kids apparently they deliberately tried to look the same. I've seen their college pictures, they were both gorgeous. Still are, I guess, and I didn't mind being in the back with Aunt Nia. I'd always liked Aunt Nia.

But I was exhausted and went to sleep as soon as we set out. When I woke up we were stopped. I was super hot, sweating. Turns out Dad hadn't thought of one thing: The only AC for the back of the van was blocked by a huge box wedged between the rows. I started shedding layers and would have kept shedding them but for Aunt Nia.

We bought two little fans at the gas station. They didn't help. I put on some sports shorts and the loosest shirt I could find at the gas station. Aunt Nia came out of the bathroom wearing a loose, yellow summer dress, with a bikini top underneath. It looked light, sexy, and free.

I was sweating as the miles rolled by and went back to sleep. I hadn't realized how wiped out I was.

I woke up from Aunt Nia shifting in her seat. She was reaching for the little fan while adjusting her summer dress. She must have pulled it up to get more air while I was asleep. She was just taking her leg off the seat between us. As I stirred, I noticed that I had a raging hard-on. It was clearly visible under my shorts and twitching. I sat up quickly and adjusted my shorts, embarrassed, and glanced over at Aunt Nia. She grinned at me. I reached for the water bottle and stretched, trying to act normal. Maybe she hadn't noticed?

At the next rest stop, we got some bath towels and spread them over the third-row seats. We all got some watermelon, which helped. Dad was in his element. "We hit some construction around Missoula but looking clear now. Anybody mind if we keep driving a few more hours today?" We all mumbled, "No problem."

As the afternoon wore on, I pulled out one of my folders with a drawing pad and some sketches. I'm always sketching, and I did a few quick landscapes--we were driving through some stunning mountain views. Aunt Nia saw what I was doing.

"I love your sketches," she said, "I remember you drawing even when you were a kid."

I shrugged.

"Will you show me?" she said with a smile and put her Kindle away. She scooched a little closer, which was not easy with the stupid box poking through from the row of seats in front of us.

"Sure," I agreed, even though I really hated the mountains I was sketching. Landscapes are not my thing, but Aunt Nia thought they were great.

She picked up the pad to hold it up in the light, and she noticed the stack of sketches in the folder under it. "What are these?" She asked and reached for them.

"Just exercises, really, from my drawing classes and studies for sculptures." I pulled one out. "See? This is an early study for

Couple Embracing

." The sketch showed the back of a naked woman, her legs folded under her but to the side, as she was reaching up. The point was to show the lines and the shapes of the muscles in her back and neck.

Aunt Nia took the sketch and studied it. "This is amazing. It's like you can see her reach, the tension in her body. I didn't know you did drawings like these. Show me some more, Stan."

I was torn. Generally, I like showing my work. It's fun to see people's reactions and observe what catches their eye--everybody sees something different in a drawing--but this was the folder with my nude studies. I had pulled out one that was pretty tame, but some of the others weren't, and this was my aunt. I wasn't going to--

"It's okay, I'm an adult," she said and laughed, interrupting my thought process and clearly reading my mind. So I shrugged and just pushed the folder over to her.

The first ones were from art school classes, nude models, in different poses, male and female in not very provocative poses. But Aunt Nia kept looking at me like she couldn't quite believe I had drawn them. There were several more nude ones like that, models bending over, two models hugging, classical poses, studies of hands, feet, breasts, shoulders. One of them was of a model, a woman, lying on her back, her arms above her head. It emphasized the line of her breasts, and how her belly ran into her hips. The next one was of the same model, but this time her legs were parted, her vulva clearly visible. Her hand was resting on her groin.

"Oh, wow," Aunt Nia said, "that's hot."

I blushed. But it was also thrilling, the way she looked at my drawings. It made me feel like an adult. It was the acknowledgment of desire.

She kept going, turning over the thick sheets of 400 series drawing paper.

I was watching her looking at the drawings in the failing light, and I took up my pad again, flipped the page, and started sketching her: She had a look of concentration, a look of determination in her brow, and she would catch her hair and stick it behind her ear, sometimes resting her long fingers on her lip. She noticed what I was doing and play punched me, but she didn't say anything. I started adding some shading and more detail to her features. Also, the sketch pad was hiding my growing erection. Having Aunt Nia look at these nudes was turning me on.

"Hey, is that you?" Aunt Nia suddenly asked. She was holding up a sketch of my face, three-quarter profile, with my hair tousled.

Oh shit, I had forgotten about those sketches. "Wait..." I stammered, "Not those," but Aunt Nia was already leafing through this set of sketches. The next one was of a naked woman, sitting in a chair, her legs spread wide, her pussy gaping open. She was holding a pad, clearly drawing. Aunt Nia just looked at me with a half smile, questioning.

"That's Alina. She was an art student from Romania, and we, um, studied together," I explained. "Um... you may want to skip these, Aunt Nia."

She grinned at me. "Nope."

The next drawing was of me, naked and sitting in the same chair and leaning to one side, my flaccid cock resting on my leg while I was holding my hands behind my head. I looked like I had just fucked (which, in fact, I had). The style was clearly different, drawn by a different hand.

"She drew this one?" Aunt Nia asked.

"Yes, but don't look at those, I mean, it's an art student thing, you know, and..." I was stammering. But if I am honest, I don't know what it was, but I secretly didn't mind Aunt Nia looking. She still thought I was a kid but I wasn't, and this work was about who I had become since moving out and attending art conservatory. It was about me as a man but also about me as an artist.

Aunt Nia looked at me, and down at the sketch. She paused.

"Everything alright back there?" Dad hollered from the front seat. "We'll be getting to the motel in 45 minutes. Need a break before?"

Aunt Nia hollered back, "We're fine, no problem. Right, Stan?"

"Sure thing, Dad" I called. Unless we really shouted, they couldn't hear us up there because we had the windows cracked to help with the heat.

"Onward Christian soldiers!" My dad confirmed in his best dad voice.

Aunt Nia shifted in the seat, turning more toward me. She was still looking at the two sketches, Alina drawn by me, and Alina's drawing of me. They looked like we had just had sex. I had hooked up with Alina quite a bit at one point.

Then she looked up at me. "Do you mind?" She said, "I have never seen anything like this, I want to... I mean, could I please?"

I didn't know what to say. A little part of me wanted her to look, but she was my aunt for heaven's sake. My aunt who looked almost exactly like my mother. I wouldn't show these sketches to my mom. I started to shake my head.

Aunt Nia looked up to the front of the van, where my mom and dad were playing classic rock. They couldn't see us. "It's between us, Stan," she said looking back at me, and then she put her hand on my arm. "I don't mind that they're, you know, naughty..." She laughed. "I kinda like it. Please?"

Was I going to regret this? I was getting hard.

I nodded, "Okay."

Aunt Nia pulled the next drawing up. It was one of mine, in charcoal, of Alina naked, kneeling on the bed, from behind. It was very revealing: her pussy, her butt hole, her ass. Her head was down, her breasts visible between her thighs. The next one showed Alina's breasts close up, her nipples stiff, and then there was one of her face, her eyes closed, a little smile playing on her lips. The next one was of her vulva, clearly aroused, with Alina's fingertips resting on her clit.

"These are amazing," Aunt Nia said, licking her lips. "They're... amazing. Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?" And she laughed a little and flipped to the next sketch.

It was one by Alina, and it showed my face as I was sleeping. Done in charcoal, very expressive. I still admire Alina's hand, how she caught something vital in each sketch. Aunt Nia was looking back and forth between me and the sketch. "She's good," she said.

Then I remembered what was coming, and I said quickly, "Um, Aunt Nia, I..."

But it was too late.

The next sketch was charcoal too, and it showed me from a low point of view and my head was in the background, to the side, my eyes closed. But in the foreground was my hard cock. With the perspective, it looked huge, pulsing, and glistening.

"Oh my gosh," Aunt Nia said and quickly turned the page. But then she smirked and turned it back and looked at it again. "Wow," she laughed, "what an impressive... drawing. Is it really...?"

"Aunt Nia!" I exclaimed. I was mortified. But I was also turned on, I admit.

"Just call me Nia on this trip," Aunt Nia said, "you don't constantly need to remind me."

Then she looked at the drawing some more.

She finally picked up the next one and giggled, "I love looking at these drawings. That Alina is good! And your drawings are amazing. I am learning so much."

The rest of the nudes weren't as racy, although there were plenty of Alina and me done outside class. Nia kept commenting and asking questions, which was nice.

I kept sketching her until the light failed.

* * *

Day Two

It was dark by the time we pulled into the motel parking lot. Mom and Dad had organized two rooms, one for Aunt Nia, and one for them, with me sleeping on a cot that the grumpy attendant brought in. It was uncomfortable, short and kept squeaking every time I moved. The air conditioning was loud and didn't work well, so I was hot and uncomfortable all night.

When I complained about the cot to my mother at breakfast all she said was, "Now, honey, we are not going to pay for a third room. You kept waking me up, too," she giggled, "with the way you were tossing and turning. But nice to see you've been working out, Stan."

Aunt Nia smiled at that and gave me a look. She started saying, "Well, maybe he could..." but at that moment Dad came back from checking us out of the motel. He was cursing.

"By the time they add all those charges and fees and taxes, it's double," he grumbled. He sat down and reached for his coffee.

"More importantly," he continued, "we need to decide what to do today. Here we are at Yellowstone, but it looks like rain later in the day."

We spent a lovely half of a day hiking in the Norris Geyser Basin. It was gorgeous, and the weather held--almost. Just before we made it back to the parking lot, the clouds broke and we got caught in the rain. We ran the rest of the way and were all laughing when we piled back into the minivan for the next leg of the trip.

I was back in my corner and aunt Nia across from me, my parents in front, blocked by the huge box. I immediately pulled my wet t-shirt off, and kicked off my shoes. It was hot in the car, and apart from the little breeze we could get from windows further up, it wasn't going to cool off much. Aunt Nia shed her windbreaker. She was wearing just her summer dress under it. No bikini underneath it today and the damp thin dress clung to her body in interesting ways. I tried not to stare at her breasts.

We started driving and soon were on the highway again. I settled back in the seat, wearing only my shorts and letting my skin dry. I realized I liked showing off a little to Aunt Nia. She was drying off her hair with a towel, which didn't make it any easier to not stare. Her head was cocked to one side, and she was looking at me expectantly with a mysterious little smile. I didn't know what she meant.

She nodded at my sketch pad. I reached for it and looked at her. Did she want me to draw her again? For some reason, we weren't speaking. Mom and Dad couldn't hear us if we kept our voices down; we had figured that out yesterday, with the radio and the engine noise. We had to shout to be heard by them.

Aunt Nia smiled and turned toward me in her seat, putting her leg up on the bench between us. She watched me as I started sketching. Then she put down the towel and looked ahead at the traffic.

Aunt Nia is beautiful. Unlike Mom, she wears her black hair short, above her shoulder. She has smooth, glowing skin, and the same grace in the lines of her back and arms, an easy beauty. Her face, which I was sketching now in profile, was clear and open, a happy face with a few wrinkles showing that she was in her forties. Her jaw line and ear are perfect and her cheekbones a little more pronounced than my mother's. That slightly sharper set of the face, her peculiar wrinkles giving her an expression like she is about to smile or laugh, are the only differences. I've drawn Mom's face many times, and Aunt Nia's is exactly the same yet completely different. I smudged the graphite with my finger to fill in a little shadow and to give the lips some depth. Gorgeous lips, and I wanted to kiss them. I wanted to brush them lightly with my lips, then feel them pressing into my lips. I wondered what Aunt Nia's tongue would feel like, slipping into my mouth, while I could feel desire on her breath. I imagined Aunt Nia placing her hand on my chest, feeling my pecs and circling my nipples, and then running her hand down, still kissing me passionately.

Aunt Nia looked over at me again. I wanted to capture Nia's mouth like this, slightly open. She regarded me with her expression of amusement. For a moment, I wondered if she could see my swelling hard-on through my still-wet shorts. I decided that if I reached for it to hide it, I would just make things worse, so I kept drawing: There was a certain sexy look in Aunt Nia's eyes now that I wanted to capture.

After a little while, Aunt Nia started unbuttoning the top of her summer dress. She did it slowly, deliberately. There were four buttons. I flipped the page and started a new sketch. Looking at me looking at her, she pulled her dress's shoulders down, and then the whole top. Her breasts came into view. They were beautiful. Not perky and not large but full enough to be perfect. Her breasts were almost round, their weight suspended in a teardrop shape. Their skin was smooth, and her nipples were cinnamon colored. As she moved to face me more, the lines of her breasts moved, like a double curve. You could see that she wasn't twenty, but she once had been an exceptional beauty and still was. And she looked like my mother, her identical twin. Were Mom's breasts just like Aunt Nia's? I tried not to think about Mom's naked body, because I was becoming more and more aroused; but I did think about it. Aunt Nia was showing herself to me, and that she was my mother's identical twin made it naughtier.