Weekend at Aunt Ivy's Pt. 04

The lines of the spreadsheet blurred together on the screen, warping the numbers into loops and swoops and the text into garbled letters and spaces. Noelle squinted, leaning forward for a better look. But the problem was not with her eyes. And she knew that. Though the graphs on the monitor didn't get any clearer, the slight shift of her thighs gently scratched the insatiable itch between her legs.

It had been eight days since she'd locked eyes with Cute Dad through her living room window. All mere moments after she'd cycled herself to a dizzying orgasm while watching Aunt Ivy get railed in a ritzy hotel room. She couldn't get him out of her head; his figure leaning on the mullion, hands in his pockets, a crescent of light on the edge of his face. She stood by the blinds, naked to the world, her body still buzzing from the cum of her life, nervously staring across their corner of the courtyard, waiting to see what he would do.

It played on a loop in the back of her mind, projecting forward until it obscured everything else. It was all she could think of. The only thing she could feel. A dull, throbbing ache in her sex that swelled with each passing hour, impervious to any and all attempts to address it.

She was getting herself off three times a day - including at lunch in the bathroom at work. She ditched pants for dresses and skirts because the seam of her khakis was a merciless tease. She stopped wearing panties because she'd put them on dry when she left for the office and by noon they'd be a sopping, sticky mess. And when she wasn't stifling her moans, she was crossing her legs under her desk and edging herself toward the next delicious release.

She did it so much she learned it had a name. Syntribation. Self-stimulation from squeezing her thighs and rocking discreetly back and forth against her clit. While effective and discreet, she learned very quickly the relief was only temporary. The next lull in her work would fill with those thoughts and the itch would return, more desperate for attention than before.

"Have you considered glasses," asked a familiar voice behind her.

Noelle snapped out of her trance and sat still in the seat, hoping she hadn't been as obvious as she feared she may have been.

"I probably should," she replied, scanning her keyboard for the right combination to credibly make her look busy. Not that Lauren would care if she wasn't. But she would want to chat, and Noelle had no interest in chatting. Not today. Not in her condition. She checked the clock on the desk phone like she hadn't been counting every minute since 2:30. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

Lauren shrugged. "Sure, what's up?"

"I have a doctor's appointment I need to get to," she lied. "When these charts finish populating can you close the file for me? I can login and finish at home tonight."

Before Lauren could answer, Noelle snatched her purse from the corner of her desk, spun her chair around and vaulted up past her cubical mate toward the door, hoping Lauren didn't notice the glistening sheen smeared across her inner thighs as she slipped past.

****

By the time she reached the car she was dripping wet, and not from the scorching heat. She sat with the door open, the leather seat baking her ass, waiting for the air conditioner to chill the hot air blasting through the vents and the perforations in the seat. She didn't understand what had taken over. How she'd lost control. How she suddenly seemed to be nothing more than the sum of her desires. Arms trembling, she snapped the door shut and peeled out of the garage.

She needed to get home quickly. But the afternoon traffic had other ideas. Trapped in the left turn lane at a red light she could no longer resist the urge. Her eyes flit side to side, nervously scanning her periphery for curious looks from adjacent cars. The coast clear, she hiked up the hem of her dress beyond mid-thigh and slithered several fingers into the steamy gooey slit between her legs.

A wave of refreshment washed over her, like the first few moments of a cold compress applied to a throbbing bruise. She closed her eyes and lolled back against the headrest, the sigh drowning out the air blasting through the cabin. Goosebumps dimpled her arms. Her foot kneaded the brake pedal with each parting of her lips.

She slouched in the seat, splaying her knees against the door and the center console and bunching her dress up under her ass. Withdrawing her fingers dribbled juices onto the upholstery. She smiled to herself. Never before had she been grateful for leather seats in the desert. Tracing her labia with moist knuckles she coaxed the buzz up through her abdomen and through her breasts with a flick of her clit. Her nipples puckered in the lace bra. Toes curled in her shoes. Her jaw dropped open and a breathy moan escaped.

BEEP BEEP

The impatient horn of the jeep stuck behind her snatched her back to reality. She stomped the accelerator and chattered her tires through the intersection into the far lane. The crush of cars thinned up ahead and a ray of relief crept in with all the sunlight. She might just make it home before she came in the car.

****

She stumbled through the front door of her building, sweat beading on the back of her neck beneath her hair. Walking was difficult - the stimulation almost unbearable. And the blast of cool air chilled the moisture on the thighs, adding a little bite to the buzz from above. Reaching the mailbox alcove she stopped to gather herself, leaning against the wall, legs slightly parted. A deep breath later she realized how odd she must look and spun inside to collect her mail.

The keys evaded her at the bottom of her purse. Frustrated, she rummaged around, finally digging them out and shoving the little brass key toward the lock. But her twitching fingers missed their mark, and it instead glanced outward off the rim and out of her hands onto the floor. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Slow down," she whispered, scolding herself. "You're an adult, not some horny teenager."

She turned and knelt to retrieve the key but found instead a pair of bright red sneakers. She popped back up to an outstretched hand; her key on one end, Cute Dad from B614 on the other. Her heart stopped. Lips parted. Eyes rounded and gazed straight ahead. She searched desperately for something to say. But all the words bottle-necked in her throat and a whisp of air was all that broke through. Cute Dad smiled.

"Hey."

Noelle's limbs turned to jelly and she struggled to stand. If she'd been wearing underwear they would have been drenched. Her brain was a tangled mess of synapses firing in no logical order. She clenched a fist behind her back, digging her nails into the palm of her hand, hoping the discomfort would focus her mind on something other than her sex.

"Uhh... hi." It was going to take a minute. Cute Dad waited patiently. Then offered a little help.

"You dropped this."

She forced her other hand forward, pinching the key to steady herself. Several phrases wormed their way through her head. None of them appropriate for the situation. Finally, after several awkward, silent seconds she regained control of her mouth.

"Thanks."

Cute Dad nodded. Then stepped aside to his own mailbox.

Noelle got ahold of herself and returned to the wall, slotting her key in the lock and flinging the door open to hide her face. Holy shit. What must he be thinking? Did he recognize her? Did he... remember? He'd looked her in the eyes. Seemed friendly. Not leering or lecherous. Maybe he'd forgotten. Or maybe, he couldn't make out her features across the corner of the courtyard in the dark.

She reached for her mail, intending to snatch it and scurry away to the elevator before Cute Dad even noticed. But a different thought overtook her intent. One with Aunt Ivy's influence all over it. This was her chance. She had to know. She'd fantasized this scenario so many times. Now she could play it out for real. Pushing through the nerves she plucked the envelopes from the box and pretended to scan the addresses.

"You're in umm...614, right? B614?" Ironically, her throat was dry as the desert outside. What felt like hours ticked by, the hair on her arms at full attention. Maybe he didn't hear her. Her voice was softer than she'd meant to be. Maybe she needed to -

"Yeah, that's me."

His silky baritone resonated through her bones. She bit her tongue and stepped one foot over the other, crossing her legs tight. She was certain he could smell her arousal.

"You're...609? A-block?"

Her heart fluttered. At least it was beating again. She nodded behind the door.

"That's me."

There was a long pause. She'd never played out the fantasy beyond this point. She scrambled for something to extend the conversation.

"Great sunsets from my place," she said, disappointed by her selection. Who the fuck small-talked about sunsets. Cute Dad chuckled.

"I looked at a place in A-block when I moved in," he said. "The sunsets are nice. But uh... I think I like the view from my place better."

Noelle's stomach dropped with the postcard that tumbled from her fingers. Anxiety spiked with excitement rippled through her body. He had seen everything. Again she scrounged for a clever response. But the fog of her prurience and the crackle of nerves short-circuited them all before they reached her lips.

Seconds ticked by. Cute Dad finished sorting his envelopes and reached up to shut the door to the box. Aunt Ivy's voice needled her. 'Doing nothing never accomplished anything.' Or was it 'you gotta grab the bear by the balls'? All the idioms were bumbled and fuzzed together. But he was leaving. It was now or never.

"Do you drink sometime," she sputtered - instantly furious with herself. Cute Dad turned, forehead furrowed.

"Do you want to get a drink sometime," she corrected, blushing profusely. "The hotel bar around the corner is actually pretty good?"

He nodded slowly. "I would like that." Patting his pockets he fished out a thin wallet and snapped out a lone business card. As he passed it off, a boy of about eight, with a crisp haircut and flashing blue sneakers bounded into the alcove with a backpack and a book. Cute Dad corralled him and smiled. "I've got this guy with me Monday thru Thursday," he added, "but weekends are usually free."

"Dad, we're going to be late for the library!" the boy injected. Cute Dad tousled his hair and patted him on the shoulder.

"I gotta run," he said. "It's nice meeting you..."

"--Noelle," she offered.

"It's nice meeting you Noelle." He backed away, lead by the arm by an eager reader. "I'll um... I'll see you around."

The flush in her cheeks spread to her chest as her eyes followed them out to the vestibule. She felt herself sweltering in the cold air deluge from the register overhead and immediately confirmed what she'd instinctively come to know this past week - there was only one way to quench this fire. The moment they were out of sight, she shucked her papers into the trash, snapped the mailbox door shut and bolted to the elevator.

****

Bursting through her front door, she slung her purse into the corner and made a beeline for her bike. Before the closer clicked the latch shut her dress was on the floor and her hair was twisted up into a loose knot just above the nape of her neck. Without debate she snatched Christopher from the drawer beneath the television and snapped the base to the piston between the split in the seat.

Her hands shook as she fumbled the ring clamp, mesmerized by the thick purple and white swirled phallus wobbling in her fingers. She never launched a session with the largest of the four attachments, but there was no point in starting small today. There could be no more favorable conditions for Christopher than the state she was currently in.

In one fell swoop she powered on the bike, gripped the handlebars tight, planted her foot on the near pedal and swung her leg clean over to the far one. Even standing, with the piston retracted, Christopher's glans grazed her labia, siphoning slippery fluids and oozing them down the sides of the shaft. Not bothering with any presets, she punched the button for manual operation and sank, quivering, to the seat.

Christopher bored inside, squeezing the soft pink flesh against the walls of her vagina and stretching her labia to a seal around his girth. She emptied her lungs in a guttural growl, the feeling of fullness swelling her sex. Her brain told her to wait. Take a moment to acclimate before beginning what she knew would be a short, hard ride. But her body blew it off and forced her legs into motion, driving the dildo deep to the hilt.

Her jaw dropped as her head rolled back. A sound she'd never heard leapt from her throat. A bolt of bliss surged through her body, needling her nipples and flexing her toes. Her fingers pressed dimples in the neoprene grips. The itch she'd been fighting all day overwhelmed her. But she finally now had the right tool to scratch it. She leaned on the pedals and started to spin.

Two minutes in her heart was racing, the rushing blood roaring in her ears. Her breasts swayed side to side with her shoulders, dipping toward the leg pumping the piston. Her arms trembled, held firm in a slight bend at the elbow. A sheen of sweat sparkled in the slivers of sunlight streaming through the slits in the blinds. Just beyond, to the left, was Cute Dad's apartment. Pedaling hard she closed her eyes and sent herself back to their meeting in the lobby just a few minutes earlier.

But the mailroom morphed into something else; an intimate space, dimly lit. Above her a ceiling fan whirled, producing white noise devoid of a breeze. A soft, thick fabric caressed her back and bunched tightly in each fist. Her body jostled against it, the top of her head rhythmically tapping something hard and hollow she couldn't see. Chin to her chest she looked down between her breasts to find Cute Dad, her legs on his shoulders, plunging his purple-swirled cock into her aching, insatiable pussy.

He crashed into her with reckless abandon. Filled her void to the brim with each thrust. The way things started she'd expected more resistance to the silicon intruder. But she was so slick with grool the fuck was near frictionless, gliding in and out through yawning pink lips. The squelch pricked her ears, triggering memories of a late summer pop hit from several years before.

A shiver rippled through her hips. Her tummy tightened and her spine curled forward, hunching her over the bars and slightly up off the seat. She hovered a moment, conditioned air circulating below. Her messy bun jostled loose, spilling hair onto her neck and shoulders, tickling her skin each time a lock swept loose. And the delicate blonde hairs on her arms snapped to attention, rippling to the urgent timbre of her whimpers and groans. She pushed on. Harder. Faster. Farther. Chewing minute by minute to the whir of the bike.

She was breathing heavy now. Her thighs burned from the pace she was setting. The buzz in her clit spread through her pelvis, rattling her hips and roiling her gut. A fog seeped into her brain obscuring every thought unrelated to the heat between her legs. The pressure built quickly. Pooling in the pit of her stomach and forcing its way down toward imminent release.

She corrected her posture and straightened her arms, rocking her weight squarely onto the seat. Her toes curled over the edge of the pedals, the balls of her feet now driving the machine. Sweat dripped from her forehead and trickled down her sides. The hum of her sex rose to a symphony, weaving and stitching its harmonies together, surging toward the final crescendo. Grinding her ass against the seat she thrust out her chest, threw her head back and screamed "Oh fuck!" to the empty room.

A volcanic eruption racked her body. Her arms rattled the handlebars, legs stuttered, shuddered and kicked at the pedals. Her pussy doused Christopher with cum, clenching and suckling the phallus as it churned and frothed her fluids all over her ass and inner thighs and down the back of her calves to her heels. Convulsions struck again and again, doubling her over and bouncing her on the seat. Gritting her teeth she squeezed her eyes shut and held on tight while the back of her eyelids dithered to white, then to sparkling stars on a rippling black blanket.

****

Moments later Noelle found herself crumpled on the floor, unaware of how she got there. She cupped a hand over her clit and clamped her legs shut around it, struggling to soothe her throbbing, sodden sex. The other arm crossed her chest, capturing one breast in the crook of her elbow and the other in trembling, clutching fingers. She lay on her side, lurching sporadically, cooing into the carpet until her climax subsided enough to once again form rational thoughts.

****

At some point she released herself; rolling onto her back, splayed out like a starfish. The sun baked her skin, drying the cum on her thighs and mound. Her head listed toward the machine in the corner. Christopher protruded through the seat like a vulgar middle finger, oozing her cream down the piston shaft to the carbon fiber frame of the bike. She smiled to herself. It would need rigorous cleaning tonight.

She picked her way to her purse and retrieved her phone, returning to tumble exhausted on the couch. With sticky fingers she dialed Aunt Ivy.

"'Elle!" her aunt chirped on the third ring. "How are you dear?"

"I um..." She heard several animated voices in the background vying for Aunt Ivy's attention. "I can call you later if this is a bad time."

"Nonsense, these vultures can wait. What's up?"

Noelle skimmed a finger between her labia and touched the fluid to her lips. "His name is Marshall," she said softly, savoring her flavor.

"What? Who's name?"

"Cute Dad. In B614. His name is Marshall."

A squeal of excitement pierced the speaker from the far end. "Oh my god, you finally met him??" Without waiting for a response Aunt Ivy shouted something at the din in the background then lowered her voice and raised her cadence to her niece. "Throw on some clothes we're going to dinner. And you're going to tell me all about him. Every detail. I'll be there in an hour!"

Noelle set the phone on her chest and breathed the most fulfilling sigh she ever had. Her wandering free hand cupped a breast, gently squeezing, tweaking a nipple. She groaned and bit her lips. Good thing Aunt Ivy was so far away. She would need the whole hour to clean up.

****

Three days later...

Perched on the edge of her couch Noelle bounced her heel nervously on the carpet, waiting for the doorbell to ring. She wasn't sure about this. It sounded like something from Aunt Ivy's wild imagination. Or, more likely, something she'd actually done at some point. And if that was the case, it probably worked out just fine. But everything was easy for her.

She jumped at the sharp knock at the door. Unpredictable, as always. She skipped across the kitchen and swung it open. Aunt Ivy breezed through in a bright yellow sundress swishing about mid-thigh, the swooping neckline flashing her cleavage. She slapped her purse on the counter and whirled round to face her niece, a mile-wide grin plastered on her face.

"So," she said in her most mischievous tone, "how were the drinks?"

Noelle chuckled. "Why are you saying it like that? We went out for drinks."

"Babe, he ordered coffee. And you were so nervous you barely finished one martini."

Confusion clouded Noelle's face. Then flipped her smile to a frown. "You were spying on me?"

"Of course! What if he'd been weird, or creepy? Or boring? You can't walk into that situation without a wingman. Someone has to look out for you. You seriously didn't see this dress watching you from the end of the bar?"

Noelle shook her head, laughing. "Well, he wasn't weird or creepy. And certainly not boring. He's an engineer. A real one. Like for bridges and stuff."

"So he's a nerd?"

"No, he's a gainfully employed responsible adult."

"Who likes to peep through his neighbor's window now and then."

"I hate you."

It was Aunt Ivy's turn to laugh. "So you really like him, huh."

"As much as I can after two hours together." She squinted her eyes. "It seems like he likes me too? I think? I don't know. I'm terrible at reading people."

"'Elle dear, he was hard the whole time you were talking."

"Wait, what?"

"If you'd been there much longer I would have had to call a doctor to take care of that erection."

Noelle's cheeks burned bright red. "Oh. My god. You are... unbelievable!"

"The word you're looking for is incorrigible. And yes, I am. People have been trying to 'corrige' me for years, but I'm always one step ahead!"

Noelle giggled. Aunt Ivy curtsied before flopping into the Swedish-made armchair next to the couch. Her dress riding high she crossed her legs and slapped her hands on the armrests. "So what's the plan?"

Noelle gave a deep sigh as she settled into the couch cushions. "I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess... wait... a couple days, see if he calls? Maybe wants to go out again?"

"That is a terrible plan."

"I thought you might think so," Noelle nodded. "I don't know, it's been a while since I've done this. Should I call him? No, wait, text maybe? No one answers their phone anymore, do they?"

Aunt Ivy raised her hand. "I have a plan."

"Oh, okay. What is it?"

"I can't tell you."

"You what?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"You'll have to trust me."

Noelle leaned in, shaking her head violently. "Oh no. Nope. No way. Can't do that."

"Noelle -"

"No! You could make me do anything! I'm not like you. I'm quiet, I'm shy - nervous! There's a reason I've never played truth or dare."

Listening to her niece's protestations Aunt Ivy's face settled into a smug smile. Much like that of a parent waiting for their screaming child's tantrum to burn itself out.

"I need to know what the plan is. You have to tell me - "

"- Noelle - "

" - No! You have to tell me! Better yet, I need to make it. I need to - "

" - Noelle. Melinda. Clark."

Silence.

Dumbfounded, Noelle's eyes bulged. She wasn't aware Aunt Ivy knew her middle name. Her hands stopped moving, settling in her lap. Aunt Ivy continued, punctuating her phrases.

"Have I ever. Steered you wrong."

Noelle bit her lip and lowered her head.

"Right. So trust me. Okay?

Noelle nodded.

"Good. When we're done he will be eating out of your hand." Aunt Ivy cocked her head and winked. "And maybe your panties too, if you're lucky."

Blood flushed Noelle's cheeks again as she sunk into the cushions. A thought zipped from her hypothalamus to her tongue, and she panicked as she realized she couldn't zip her lips in time to keep from blurting it out.

"If I was wearing them," she muttered, immediately clamping a hand over her mouth.

Aunt Ivy threw her head back, cackling. "That's my girl," she announced to the otherwise empty room. "I knew she was in there somewhere."

The smile returned to Noelle's face. "Okay fine," she said. "So what do we do?"

"Well," Aunt Ivy replied, springing up from the chair, "the first thing we do is get something to eat. Seduction is no fun on an empty stomach. Order us some dinner and I'll work out the details."

****

Ten-thirty rolled around to find Aunt Ivy nestled comfortably in the armchair she had relocated to the farthest, darkest corner of the living room, invisible from any vantage point in B614. In her hands she held her niece's phone, unlocked and opened to the messaging app, the cursor blinking slowly at the left edge of the empty text field. Noelle stood at the mouth of the hallway to the bedroom, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot.

The chill of the air conditioning pimpled her bare legs with goosebumps. And her nipples needled the stiff cotton of the tapered blue plaid dress shirt buttoned twice between her breasts. Nervous hands searched fruitlessly for non-existent pockets in the smooth blue panties accentuating her ass. Instead, her thumb caught the waistband and snapped it against her hip. She flinched. Aunt Ivy chuckled.

"Do you want a drink," she asked softly. Noelle shook her head. "Then try to relax dear. Trust me. Those butterflies you feel? Anticipation. Not fear."

Noelle pressed a palm to her stomach. Something was happening in there. What, exactly, she couldn't tell. But Aunt Ivy was right. The heat and the dew between her legs confirmed it. She was nervous. Her skin was clammy and her pulse was pounding. But she wasn't afraid. She was... excited? She drew a deep breath and sighed.

"You good?" Aunt Ivy checked. Noelle managed a smile.

"Are you going to tell me what I'm texting him?"

Her aunt flashed a devious grin. "I'm going to tell you exactly what you need to know. Nothing else. Now, channel your inner me, and let's make some mischief!"

Noelle crossed her arms and leaned on the wall, looking over her shoulder toward the window. She heard Aunt Ivy's nails clicking on the touchscreen glass. Then, uncomfortable silence. Pursing her lips, she tried desperately to resist the urge to ask. But failed.

"What did you say," she mumbled, half hoping she hadn't been heard.

"I asked him if he's home," Aunt Ivy chuckled. "Now shush. Let me work."

The phone chimed a moment later. In the glow of the screen Aunt Ivy typed out a response. Followed again by a pause, then a chime. She shifted in the chair.

"Pass me the TV remote," she instructed. Noelle scooped it from the shelf below the screen and walked it over. "Now turn on the lamp and go to the kitchen. Walk past the window, but don't look out."

"Wait, why is this complicated? Why can't I -"

"- Shhhh," Aunt Ivy whispered sternly. "Just trust me."

Noelle bit her lip to avoid rebuttal and did as she was told, lingering just long enough at the lamp and the glass before continuing into the kitchen. As she reached for the refrigerator Aunt Ivy called out from across the room.

"Take something - a drink - from the bottom shelf," she commanded. "And don't be modest about it."

She swung open the door and paused. There was a very narrow angle from which the interior of the fridge could be seen from Cute Dad's unit. She shuffled into it and bent over at the waist, stretching for the last bottle of cream soda. The shirt tails rode up, exposing her thinly veiled ass to the view from Building B.

She took her time straightening up. The hiss of crisp carbonation cut the nervy silence of the room as she twisted off the cap and tossed it on the counter. "Good," Aunt Ivy continued. The television clicked on. "Come back. Stop at the couch. Relax for a minute."

Noelle did as instructed, careful not to search for the pair of eyes Aunt Ivy assured her were watching. She stopped at the end of the sofa. Leaned her hip against the back, then slid forward and raised a leg to perch her butt and one thigh on the broad flat arm. She tipped the bottle to her lips and took a swig. Her trembling hand sloshed a trickle of the pale pink liquid past the seal and down the corners of her mouth onto her shirt. Surprising herself, she retained her composure, casually brushing the back of her hand across her chin.

Aunt Ivy popped her eyebrows and rounded her mouth. "Nice ad-lib," she cooed. "Top-tier flirting."

Noelle bit her cheek to keep from laughing. Now there was something she had never been accused of.

A soft white logo she didn't recognize faded up on the TV screen, then faded back to black. Her eyes darted toward her aunt, who without looking up from her phone raised a hand to stall her question. Dark and dreamy piano notes wafted from the speakers, followed by a slow fade up on a curious scene. Aunt Ivy's hand flipped sideways, pointing toward the screen.

A comfortable-looking queen-size bed stood softly lit in the center of an otherwise dark and empty room. Sprawled face-up on the satin sheets lay a long-legged short-haired brunette in blue-striped knee socks, cut-off denim shorts and a scoop neck white camisole. Clasped in her hands held just above her chest was a non-descript paperback novel, opened halfway through being read in the warm low light.

"Take a sip," Aunt Ivy instructed, "then put the bottle down. After that, keep your left hand out of view." She nodded toward the video. "Watch her and do what she does."

The clink of the glass on the table startled Noelle. She thought she'd set it down softly, but it seemed she was still less steady than she'd hoped. Returning to her position she re-focused on the video. Without a book to hold she was unsure of what to do with her hand. But she didn't have to wait long for direction.

Engrossed in her read the Brunette casually dropped a hand to her chest. Her fingers picked lightly at the cotton fabric before creeping over the bulge of her breast. She traced first the areola, then the nub of a nipple poking up above the mound. Noelle followed suit. A chill pricked across her chest. And she suddenly realized she was more aroused than she anticipated.

The Brunette set the book down beside her. With an arch of her back and cross of her arms she slipped out of the camisole and tossed it out of frame. Two pillowy orbs settled on her chest. Gravity pulled them away from her sternum. But they were young and pert and held their form without assistance when she reclaimed the novel.

Noelle modified the action to suit her wardrobe, twisting the single fastened button through its eyelet and free from duty. The shirt tails fell away, exposing her breasts to the window. Rolling her shoulders she shed it completely and sluffed it on the couch. She gave each breast a tender squeeze. They felt firmer than usual. Higher. More buoyant. She cupped one in each hand before dropping her left arm and roaming from nipple to nipple with her right.

"Easy tiger," Aunt Ivy whispered from the shadows. "Don't flame out too quickly."

Noelle lightened her touch and kept watching. Aunt Ivy was right. Her senses were in overdrive. Every sound, every touch amplified. She sighed deeply to slow herself down. She had no roadmap for where this was going or how long she would be... entertaining. So she needed to pace herself.

The Brunette continued reading, casually massaging her tits to the faint, billowing piano. When she reached up to turn the page, she eased her thighs apart and returned her palm to her stomach instead. Several small circles later it drifted down over her abdomen and slowly disappeared beneath the waistband of her shorts. The button popped open and the tab split apart and the ridge of her knuckles rippled the fly until a crap, then a moan covered the music and sent a twinge through Noelle's sex.

"Lie down," Aunt Ivy whispered.

Noelle slid off the arm of the couch into the cushion. She squirmed forward, her back flat, feet dangling over the edge. Her legs splayed without command, fingers diving toward her slit. She matched the motion of the bulge beneath the denim on screen, greasing her labia with the slippery wetness seeping from her pussy. Goosebumps pimpled her arms and breasts. It was going to be a struggle to draw this out.

Finally, the Brunette dropped the book, the appendage formerly holding it tending instead to the needs of the knolls on her chest. Noelle followed suit. A crackling static bridged her nipples and warmed her nethers. The thought of Cute Dad pressed to the window, watching, weaved through the urgent pleas of her body for more and more attention, wrapping her in a blanket of pin-prick of pleasures. The resulting whimpers were involuntary. She was no longer in control. A rustling in the corner pinched her attention. She rolled her head to Aunt Ivy rising from her chair.

"What are you doing," she asked, her pitch wobbly.

"He's coming over," Aunt Ivy said, with no hint of irony or expression.

Noelle froze. At least she thought she did. The sensation of a fingertip circling her clit seemed to indicate otherwise.

"What???"

"I invited him here to watch," Aunt Ivy continued. She set Noelle's phone on the edge of the coffee table and strode toward the entry door. "He will watch, then he will leave."

The deadbolt retracted. Noelle snapped up straight in the seat. Except she didn't. The only things moving were her mouth and her fingers. "He's coming here???"

"Well he can't really see you anymore from his apartment, can he." Aunt Ivy breezed back across the kitchen, snatching the 8-inch santoku knife from the block as she passed. "Just keep doing what you're doing, and when you're finished, he'll leave. If anything gets weird, I'll take care of it."

Wide-eyed, Noelle watched her aunt disappear into the darkness of the hallway. She wanted to get up and run after her, dive under the covers and hide until morning. But she could not convince her body to do anything other than what she was doing. A chill shot down her spine. Her nerves frayed. Muscles trembled. And all those things served only to overdrive her arousal.

The Brunette bit her lip, moaning into the void. Her face and neck blushed rosy pink. Nipples puckered off her breasts. Her palm scrubbed her pussy, splashing clear juices over her inner thighs. Noelle squirmed against the woven grey fabric, stabbing at her slit while grinding her clit into the heel of her hand. The room started to spin. She wanted to disappear. But she couldn't force herself to move.

The latch clicked open.

The hinges creaked. Then fell silent.

A gentle breeze. Then the door clicked shut.

Noelle's heart thumped loud enough that she was sure it could be heard across the room.

Light footsteps fell on the kitchen tile. Then padded softly across the carpet.

Noelle closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to look. The pressure in her abdomen swelled and her toes curled against the balls of her feet.

She felt a presence approach behind her head - just off the arm of the couch. The footsteps fell silent. Her skin was on fire. The itch between her legs was insatiable. The wails of the Brunette rang in her ears; layered over the squelch of frenzied fingers, garbled expletives, and a heavy breath that was not her own. She mauled her breasts and twisted her nipples; wringing her climax down through a sharply arched spine and fluttering gut; and bursting into the world through a throbbing, aching clit.

"Oh fuck!" she cried, her body racked and straining. It hit her in waves, bucking her hips and snapping her thighs shut on her fist. Her pussy gushed all over the cushion. Her heels kicked the arm and stomped a pillow into the crevasse between the two. She slapped her free hand over her mouth and screamed, trembling through crash after crash to her sex, until the orgasm left her sprawled and spent, whimpering to the moonlight splashed across the smooth, clammy dip of her abdomen.

Nothing moved but the edge of the curtain billowing under the vent by the window. The air seemed thick and humid. Noelle's fingertips tingled. She felt every strand of hair clinging to her neck and shoulders, and the chill of the wet spot under her ass. On top of all that was the looming second presence.

His face was burned into her memory. She could see it on the back of her eyelids. See him smiling at her in the mailroom. Laughing with her at the bar. She wondered what he looked like now, staring down at her squirming, near-naked body, Was he intrigued? Aroused? Disgusted by what he saw? His deep, steady breaths gave her no clues.

A shoe twisted tufts of carpet. A footfall padded away from the couch. He'll come, and watch, and leave, Aunt Ivy had said. And true to his word, that's what he was doing. Only minutes ago she'd panicked and wished he'd never answered the texts. But something had changed. That was not what Noelle wanted now. Not her body at least. Not anymore.

"Wait," she said, her voice flat and dry.

The footsteps paused. Waiting.

"Come here." She could barely believe the words left her lips.

But there was no response. Just a breath. And a beat. Followed by a hesitant, "Uummm..."

"Shhhh," Noelle replied. She tapped the edge of the sofa just below her left shoulder. "Come here."

The footsteps reversed, padding cautiously around the furniture to the spot she pointed out. She felt a gentle warmth on the side of her face and the rustle of soft fabric next to her ear. Her lungs filled with the scent of her arousal and exhaled slowly. She couldn't believe what she was about to do.

Rolling her head to the side she opened her eyes. Heavy heathered gray fleece tickled the tip of her nose. She traced the pattern up past the knee along the thigh to a large oblong bulge protruding crossways from the groin. He had obviously enjoyed her exhibition. And tonight, she was going to help him return the favor.

Scrunching the fleece in her fist she gave it a steady tug. With some resistance it slipped off his waist down over his ass to settle mid-thigh. His cock sprang out, thick and veiny, and bobbing gently in the cool night air. She drew her fingers from her pussy and wrapped them around the shaft. It was hot and throbbing and twitching at her touch. Shifting her eyes to meet his, she gave it a squeeze before slowly, gingerly beginning to stroke.

Cute Dad sighed loud and long, his abdomen flattening under his thermal shirt. Slick with her cream, her fist glided with ease, out over the glans and back pressed to his balls with a slight twist of her wrist between. Her throat was dry from short shallow breaths. But her mouth watered in anticipation of where this encounter was leading.

She loosened her grip and pumped a little faster, careful to cover the full length of his erection. Cute Dad wobbled on his heels. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, twisting to ease her access while trying to keep his balance. She watched his nose twitch. His lips purse. His molars grind behind his cheek. The corners of her mouth curled upward. She had complete control. Not through a window across a courtyard. Through sticky fingers rocking back and forth just above her head.

She raised her knees and flattened her feet on the cushion on the edge of the wet spot. Her thighs yawned and her free fingers found their way back, skimming the tender glistening flesh and dipping in between the folds. Cute Dad's pulse quickened. His cock strained against the weight of her arm, arching further upward with the vigor of a fit, healthy man in his early 30s.

The television screen was dark now. But Noelle had long since abandoned the prompt. She gently nursed her denouement while pushing and pulling Cute Dad closer to the peak of the mountain. His muscles began to stutter, flinching and flexing with increasing frequency. Grunts rumbled deep in his throat. Noelle felt a warmth on the top of her head. A nervous palm with restless digits trailing through her hair and sweeping it from her forehead.

Her scalp tingled at the touch. A fizzing mist that crawled down her neck over her tits and down her abdomen to cloud her sex. A subdued, muted climax bubbled in her gut and tickled her pussy. Ligaments and tendons contracted, strangling Cute Dad's cock in her pumping fist. Before she could recover there was a gasp from above. Her attention diverted upward to a guttural groan. He staggered, knees sagging, and gritting his teeth before willingly surrendering to the immanent eruption.

"Oooooh fuck."

Viscous white ribbons of semen spewed from his dick. They splashed across Noelle's breasts, pooled in her belly button, splattered her face and streaked her hair. Cum oozed over her hand as she continued to stroke, clinging to her forearm and dripping on her shoulder. Its heat singed her skin, leaving splotches of warm delight all over her body.

Hazy from her second peak she held tight to the throbbing organ until every last drop was drained from his balls.

****

Her arm fell across her chest. Her thumb curled and flexed, massaging slippery fluids into a nipple. Spent and limp she flushed her lungs with the sex-scented air and looked up at her voyeur. His eyes were confused. Lusting but surprised. Like a buck in heat, caught in freight train headlights. She smiled. Closed her eyes. Mission accomplished.

****

Muffled rustling and a light breeze brushed her ear. Soft footsteps followed, leading toward the door. The latch clicked open again. Then quietly shut.

****

Noelle's heartbeat finally slowed. She looked herself over. Admired the flare of her hips. The mounds of her breasts. The sheen of her body in the pale moonlight. All without a single thought of covering up. She felt so... free.

Unashamed.

Whole.

She flashed back to the hot, bright morning by Aunt Ivy's pool. How nervous she'd been to swim without her suit. How cautious she was tanning nude by the water. The butterflies in her stomach as she came in the deck chair, her ass displayed to the vast, empty desert. Here she was now, calm and content. She licked a drop of cum from her lips and savored it sliding down her throat. She'd come a long way.

Familiar footsteps approached from the bedroom. Aunt Ivy ambled toward her, unsteady on her feet. The front of her dress was rumpled, one of the straps askew on her shoulder. She stopped at the edge of the coffee table, a sliver of light revealing the smirk on her face. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head to address her niece.

"You, are a mess."

Noelle frowned. Flipped her aunt a middle finger. They shared a moment of silence before bursting into laughter.

Noelle lifted her legs for Aunt Ivy to sit, lowering them across her lap once the she settled in. Aunt Ivy spread her arms along the back of the couch. She flipped her hair over her shoulders and gazed down at Noelle's thighs.

"You got spunk on my dress," she scolded with a smile.

Noelle chuckled. "Right, like this is the first time that's happened to this dress."

Aunt Ivy cackled. "Fair point," she conceded.

"You were right," Noelle said. She raked her fingers through her hair, combing out the cum.

"Well of course I was dear!" There was an awkward pause. Then a whisper. "About what?"

"I loved every moment of it. Every single one."

Aunt Ivy rubbed Noelle's shins and squeezed her knees for emphasis. "I told you," she replied. "I've never steered you wrong."

Noelle smiled, rolling her head side to side on the throw pillow. "No," she admitted, "you haven't." But there is a consequence to this for you."

"Oh, really?" Aunt Ivy snickered, "what's that?"

"I am soooo going to crush you all cycling this week."