Mom Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind

Author's Note:

Please take note of this story's

category and tags

, in case the subject matter might not be to your liking. Also, please start with

Part 1

of the series otherwise, some of this won't make much sense.

This is a work of fiction. The plot is fictional. The characters are fictional. In other words, it's

not real life

. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental. All fictional characters in this fictional story involved in fictional sexual activities are 18+ in their completely fictional lives. If you think you recognize a real-life someone in this story, you lead a more colorful life than the author. :-)

Lastly, and most importantly, I hope you enjoy the story!

-BizMe

# # # # #

Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind: Part 8

# # # # #

Seventeen corrections.

Seventeen corrections

after

none

the day before.

On the one hand, I was on cloud nine, having just had one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life in a dressing room with Nadia and her mom. But on the other hand, I was upset with myself for having slipped up so often and ending up with

seventeen corrections

for stammering, saying 'um' or 'sorry', and making Miss Swenson repeat herself--all the usual things I got corrections for.

I knew I could do better. I

had

done better. But now, as I left my true love to finish her shift at the Fashion Planet and was heading home with her mom, my head began to fill with dread over those seventeen corrections. Oh, how I hoped it would be Miss Swenson who administered them and not Aunt Clara.

"You look worried, Andy. Or upset?" Miss Swenson asked glancing over at me as she turned her minivan into our street. "Everything okay?"

"I just wish I hadn't messed up so much," I told her. "I don't like getting spanked."

"You're not supposed to like it, Andy," she chuckled, "but I'd still say it was a good day, wouldn't you? You made really good progress and I think your Aunt Clara will be pleased."

"I'm not so sure, Miss Swenson. All she's going to care about is I got seventeen corrections. And I tried so hard. Honest, I did."

"I know you did, Andy. I think you should give her a chance. People can surprise you, sometimes. Besides, I think we might be able to work something out."

"W-work something out?"

"Ah, ah, ah," she said as she wagged a finger at me. "Don't start stammering already when I'm trying to be nice and give you a reprieve."

"Sorry," I muttered, immediately regretting it as I'd messed up, yet again.

"Oh, Andy, what are we going to do with you?" she huffed, but grinned sympathetically.

"Just shoot me, I guess. I'm a hopeless cause." I bemoaned.

"Now that kind of talk

should

deserve a correction. I might need to talk to your Aunt Clara about that. You've got to stop being your own worst enemy. You must know no one else thinks that way about you? Don't you?" she asked.

"I don't know. Sometimes I think Aunt Clara hates me." I pouted like a child, though I knew it wasn't true.

"You made a lot of people happy today, so you can't be all bad, right?" she asked as she pulled into her driveway to the right of my house. "You made my Nadia

very

happy."

I blushed, remembering what had happened in the dressing room at the Fashion Planet where she worked, not only what I'd done but what Miss Swenson had done to her own daughter, too.

"And Priscilla?" Miss Swenson continued. "It's pretty obvious

she

was happier after you stopped in. Even that Mister Venkel had a little bit of fun today." she joked, though a bit vaguely.

"What happened to him, anyway?" I inquired, curious how he'd disappeared but nothing had been said about it yet.

"Oh, I just turned on a little charm," she said dismissively, "and maybe teased him a little bit. But suffice to say, he enjoyed the show a little too much and had a bit of an accident."

"Wait?" I interrupted. "Are you saying he creamed his pants? Is that why he left us alone? Because he had to go home and change his

pants

?"

Miss Swenson didn't answer with words. Rather, she just smiled and reached for my hand. "Andy? There's one more person I'm hoping you'll make happy today. And if you do a good enough job, I just might forget about all those corrections. Well, I should probably save a few so your Mom and Aunt Clara don't get suspicious."

"You mean it, Miss Swenson?!" I asked, strangely aware of how odd it was to be excited about getting spanked, simply because there might be fewer of them.

Miss Swenson nodded and unlocked the doors to the minivan. "My place or yours, big boy?" she asked teasingly.

"Anywhere you want!" I answered enthusiastically.

"In that case, I think poolside might be nice, but, first, let's get our purchases put away."

"P-poolside?" I stuttered unintentionally again. "You mean...

outside

?" I asked. The thought of being naked with Miss Swenson by her pool was a horny boy's dream, but to be spanked outside was

not

.

There's no way I'd be able to stay silent while being spanked and Miss Swenson is a 'loud' spanker!

I started to worry in my mind, envisioning the scene that might be about to unfold.

The neighbors will hear... old lady Perkins will, anyway... and then she'll come running to find me naked across Miss Swenson's lap... and then...

"Don't you normally get corrections for zoning out, Andy?" Miss Swenson's voice lured me back to the present. "Or making a caregiver repeat herself? Or questioning her orders?" Her tone wasn't as light and playful any longer. Instead, it was more authoritative, sterner, and more impatient, like she had put on a mask and changed characters from my friendly neighbor and (hopefully) doting future mother-in-law to impatient, disciplinary, 'had-it-up-to-here' schoolmarm.

I buckled to this persona immediately, not wanting to taunt her. "Yes, ma'am," I said quietly, lowering my head in deference.

"So, now it's eighteen, Andy. You'd better do a good job satisfying your caretaker, or

all eighteen corrections

will be administered despite your efforts."

"Yes, ma'am," I repeated, no longer looking forward to the afternoon's activities as much as I had just a few seconds prior.

"Let's get on with it then. We haven't got all day. And we still need to start looking for a job for you. Nadia was lucky since she already had a job before summer started. You're already behind everyone else who was more on the ball, so our options might be limited."

I nodded, understanding yet another side-effect of my absentmindedness and lack of attention was unintentional procrastination and now I no longer had my pick of job opportunities. She was right, after all. Nearly all of my friends had started working at least two weeks prior as laborers, at the mall, or at Summer Island--a local amusement park that included its own large lake, a peninsula, and several beaches, but curiously, no island.

"But first things first, Andy," she eyed me up and down. "Take off your shirt," she commanded. "You might as well start working on your tan now and try to get rid of those silly tan lines. You really should start running without a shirt on, you know? It would help."

I looked around outside the minivan, hoping no one else on the street was out and about. Then I unbuckled my seatbelt and clumsily removed my shirt.

"Good boy," Miss Swenson said as she unbuckled her seat. "Now your shorts, too."

"My shorts?!" I started to object, knowing that with only the liner in them, I would be left fully exposed, not only to Miss Swenson but to anyone else who happened to be out and about and happened to look our direction. Then I saw a glare behind her eyes that she seemed to have primed and ready to unleash on me if I pressed my mini-rebellion any further.

I nodded submissively and lifted my hips, slipping my running shorts with the liner built-in down my legs to my ankles, where they bunched around my shoes.

"Shoes and socks, too," she directed.

"Yes, ma'am," I whispered, kicking off my shoes and socks, leaving the last vestiges of modesty in a pile on the floorboard. I was completely naked in Miss Swenson's minivan, awaiting her next direction.

"Now, I want you to carry in all of our bags, please. You can use them to cover yourself if you need to, but it's a short walk to your house so you probably won't. If it was nighttime, I'd just carry the bags myself and make you follow behind me."

I wondered why she bothered to tell me that last thing and froze in my seat at the thought of being truly naked in public, on my street, and possibly being seen in such a state.

How would I explain that? Miss Swenson carrying armfulls of shopping bags and me carrying nothing, following completely nude behind her!

It wasn't until she had climbed out of the minivan, come over to my side of the van, and knocked on my window that I was jarred back to reality again.

Opening the side sliding door, Miss Swenson fetched our shopping bags from the back seat. "Come on, then," she snapped impatiently.

I opened the door and immediately heard voices--voices that I recognized--and I nearly hopped my naked body right back into the minivan.

Old lady Perkins was sitting on her porch, supposedly playing cards with her

old lady

friends in her

Old Ladies Bridge Club

. I say 'supposedly' because for all the non-stop talking they did, I never believed they played any games...

ever

.

Fortunately, for me, I was on the side of the van facing away from old lady Perkins' house, so my nakedness was well hidden, even before I was given the bags to carry.

Still, I covered my crotch as I turned toward Miss Swenson, admiring her behind as she leaned into the van to retrieve the last of no less than six bags. Her slim-fitting shorts were unable to contain the bottoms of her firm ass cheeks. I wanted to not look. I wanted to not react. But I failed on both counts, my balls tingling with energy as I gawked at Miss Swenson's tight globes and long, slender, tanned legs.

"Hands away, Andy," she snipped upon turning to face me, seeing that I was trying to hide my privates which were now burgeoning, my penis beginning to show signs of an erection. "You know that's not allowed."

"Yes, ma'am," I apologized, moving my hands to my sides.

"Well? Take the bags!" she sounded frustrated and I wondered why she sounded so agitated.

Have I worn her out with my absentmindedness? With making her repeat things? By saying 'um' and 'sorry' all the time? Is that why she's upset with me?

I wondered, realizing that my stepmom had to deal with me twenty-four-seven for years. If Miss Swenson could barely handle one day with me, was it any wonder Mom was so overwhelmed?

"Andy!" Miss Swenson's frustrated voice broke through my flighty thoughts.

I looked up at her and blinked several times quickly.

"

Ugh. Come on.

Let's get these things to your house and hung up, so we can get to the pool and you can... work off your corrections."

Is that why she's so snippy?

I asked myself in a bit of an 'a-ha' moment.

Because she's that fucking horny? And she simply can't wait for me to 'do my job' and service her needs?

My mood started to lighten a bit and, again, I started to warm to the idea of being naked by Miss Swenson's pool.

By the time Miss Swenson finished retrieving the last shopping bag, I was holding at least three bags in each hand. As I left the protection the minivan provided and I tried to position them to provide maximum coverage--one arm in front, covering my naked genitals, the other behind me and hopefully hiding my bare ass.

"Hurry up, Andy," Miss Swenson called loudly, already several paces ahead of me. She'd yelled so loudly, though, that the Old Ladies Bridge Club fell silent and that

never

happened.

I looked up in dread, realizing that old lady Perkins and her three old lady friends were now watching us instead of... whatever it was they did.

Despite looking forward to doing whatever Miss Swenson had in mind for me by the pool, I felt my blood turn cool as it seemed all eyes were on me. All four old women sitting on my neighbor's porch were staring and not at Miss Swenson, but at me.

Do they already know I'm naked behind these bags? Did they see through the windows of the minivan or something? Am I just being paranoid?

I tried to avoid eye contact as I carefully stepped forward, leaving the minivan behind me and gingerly placing my bare feet on the hot concrete sidewalk until I could no longer take it and started prancing in place, my penis and balls bouncing in a silly display that, thankfully, only I saw.

"Hurry up, Andy!" Miss Swenson yelled again.

I crossed the sidewalk and started walking on the grass where it was much cooler.

As I got closer to my front door, I heard the one thing I didn't want to hear, old lady Perkins hollering a greeting, waving to us from the shade of her front porch.

"Why, hello there, Kari!" she boomed. "And Andy? Good to see

you

again, too!"

"Uh, hello, Miss Perkins," Miss Swenson replied politely while I kept my head down and kept heading straight for my house.

"Looks like you went shopping?" old lady Perkins questioned.

"Yes... yes, we did," Miss Swenson answered sweetly, putting on her best friendly-neighbor face despite her obvious frustration with me. "My Nadia works at the Fashion Planet at the mall and we used her employee discount to get some deals."

"Oh! I just love things on sale!"

"Don't well all?" one of the old ladies bantered and the other old ladies quickly concurred.

"Yes. Sales are the best," Miss Swenson agreed with a chuckle that somehow seemed to thaw her coldness.

"Did you get you some new outfits?" old Lady Perkins asked.

"We did!" Miss Swenson beamed and smiled and, just like that, the ice queen had melted.

"Did you happen to visit that new store? Henri's Haute Couture? I hear they just opened!" old lady Perkins asked excitedly.

"Oh, no!" Miss Swenson answered, the frigidness in her voice replaced with girlish giddiness as she started talking sales and shopping with our annoyingly over-friendly neighbor. "We just got some new clothes for Andy. He needs to expand his wardrobe by the fall... for college, you know. But Henri's sounds interesting. Not sure I could afford 'haute couture,' though. Not with my paycheck."

"Oh, I could never afford that stuff either. But I do love to window shop," old lady Perkins chortled. "You know what I'd like to do sometime? I'd love to go in there and act like The Queen, dismissing one outfit after the other. Why, they don't need to know the reason is I can't afford it, do they?!"

By now all the old ladies were laughing and Miss Swenson was halfway across the yard, nearer to old lady Perkins' porch than mine.

I stood anxiously at my front doorstep, buck naked behind the Fashion Planet bags, hoping against hope that I would be let inside soon and wishing I had remembered to put our spare key under the doormat like Mom always told me to. I knew better than to check, though. First, I never remembered to do it and second, I'd have to set the bags down to check.

"Can I see what you got?!" old Lady Perkins asked cheerily. "Whatever it is, it has to be better than anything else Andy has in his closet! I swear that boy must not ever want a girlfriend the way he dresses all frumpy all the time."

Old lady Perkins knows what I have in my closet? Does she pay attention to that? Has she been in my room?

"Oh, well, isn't that the truth?" Miss Swenson heartily agreed. "That's exactly why I took him. Oh! And he'll be taking Nadia on a date, soon," she announced proudly. "Want to see what he'll be wearing?" she asked gleefully.

The Old Ladies Bridge Club started buzzing with energy at the prospect of a shopping bag fashion show.

"Come here, Andy! Let's show them what you've got!" Miss Swenson called.

Oh, God. Could she not have picked better words, at least?

She beckoned me with the slight movement of her shoulders and wag of her head.

"I... but..." I stammered, my face turning pale at the thought that four more ladies--

old

ladies, at that--would get so close to my nakedness.

How will I be able to keep myself hidden?!

"Don't make me count, Andy," Miss Swenson snarled between her pursed, still smiling, lips as she came back to fetch me.

"I... no, ma'am," I muttered, slowly shuffling my way closer to her.

"Trust me," she whispered into my ear then grabbed my upper arm and started walking us closer to the neighbor's porch, "Nothing bad will happen."

"Ah, Andy, so good to see you up close," old lady Perkins chimed as I got closer. "I can hardly see you without my glasses, you know."

The rest of the ladies all quickly agreed, "Yep, it's the first thing to go, the eyes. Just life, I suppose."

"Yep, yep," the others concurred.

"Is this the handsome young neighbor you told us about earlier?" the white-haired woman sitting opposite old lady Perkins and furthest from the stairs barked loudly. "I still can hardly see him," she grumbled. "Come here, young man. Come closer so we can see you better."

My face wore the alarm that I felt, but Miss Swenson tugged my arm and confidently led me up the stairs while I very

un

-confidently followed.

As we reached the top step, I realized that I was now standing immediately next to old lady Perkins on my right, while Miss Swenson was on my left where I would have much rather been. I badly wanted to swap places with her, so that Miss Swenson would be a buffer between myself and old lady Perkins, but I couldn't think of a way to suggest it. So, I concentrated on making myself small and keeping the bags surrounding me to protect me from her view.

"Why are you barefoot, Andy?" old lady Perkins asked, peering beneath the curtain of bags to my naked feet and I almost dropped the bags lower to hide them, but smartly caught myself.

"Oh, we were just going to go for a swim in a bit," Miss Swenson answered for me.

"I see," old lady Perkins said, seeming to accept the explanation. "Now, please show us what you bought!" she chirped excitedly, immediately leaning over to peer into the bag nearest her and tugging on the opening.

I overreacted and yanked back, which she seemed to take great offense to.

"I was only taking a peek, young man!" she sniped. "You don't need to be rude!"

"I didn't mean to be, Miss Perkins," I apologized quickly. "You just startled me, that's all."

"Oh," she softened, "well, I didn't mean to spook you, Andy. You seem

awful

skittish today. I don't bite, you know."

"Speak for yourself!" the white-haired woman jeered from across the table.

"Oh, please,

Maribell

, you don't even have teeth," the diminutive lady with a cute button nose to the left of old lady Perkins joked.

"Oh, Patty! You know that's not true!" white-haired Maribell objected. "I have all my teeth, thank you very much!" As if to prove it, she snapped her teeth like she was shivering, making a clicking sound.

The Old Ladies Bridge Club erupted in laughter and the atmosphere turned lighter.

"I do believe Gladys, on the other hand," Maribell deflected, "has

fake hair

!"

"What?! I do not!" It turned out old lady Perkins' first name was Gladys. I had no idea. "Look!" she pulled against her own hair. "Nothing coming out!"

"That's

you

trying it," Maribell protested. "See if the boy can pull it out. I bet you're probably not even trying."

"Fine by me!" old Lady Perkins boomed, immediately looking up at me and motioning for me to reach my hand toward her. "Here, I'll hold the bags, Andy."