Auntie and I Ch. 01

I started meeting the wives within the first few days, even though I wasn't officially working yet. Meredith and Abigail were the first, stopping into the gallery to say hello when Auntie and I were hanging a huge painting. It wasn't going smoothly and we were both sweating, worried about damaging the expensive frame.

"Oh my God, that looks heavy," Meredith said. "Can we help?"

"Down, down, down," Auntie said to me. We lowered the massive painting to the folded up blanket on the floor. "Damn!" she said, looking at the dents in the soft parts of her fingers. "I need gloves."

"Hi, I'm Jon," I said, extending my hand to the women. I recognized them as two of the art class students from the topless sketches I'd seen — Meredith with the low-hanging handfuls, Abigail flatter chested, with nipples that stuck out like those pegs you put coat hangers on. It was awkward having that information in my mind. I was starting to wish I didn't have such a good memory.

"This is the handsome nephew I told you girls about," Auntie said. "He'll be with us all summer. I'm hoping to persuade him to model for us."

"Oh, wow," I said, flashing a blank stare at my aunt. "We hadn't really...talked about that."

Auntie shrugged her shoulders. "We'll see," she said.

Meredith and Abigail had blank stares, too. I can only guess they were contemplating having me sit naked on the little stage in the back room. I'd only just met them so couldn't be sure, but it appeared all the color drained out of their faces.

"What are you two up to?" Auntie asked them.

"Oh, just out for our walk," Meredith said, still looking a bit stunned. "I need some eggs at the store."

They seemed embarrassed and left a few moments later. Abigail hadn't said a word.

It was like the floodgates opened after that, the rest of the wives seemingly coming out of the woodwork. I can only guess it was to have a look at me. Dina and Ginette. Phoebe. Celine and Leah. Everyone but Maria. I was beginning to wonder if she was still one of Auntie's students when she walked in out of a foggy morning, just like a character from a movie. A swirl of fog even followed her in through the door. I was alone in the gallery, holding down the fort while Auntie was out running errands.

"Oh, hello," Maria said. "You must be Jon." She extended a delicate hand that squeezed mine tighter than I expected. "I'm Maria, one of Pamela's students."

"Yes. I mean, she did mention there was one I hadn't met."

"You met all of them already?" she said. "Wow, word travels fast around here."

Maria's amused smile was lovely, and the rest of her, well, I was feeling a little faint as I imagined her sitting topless on the posing stage in the back room. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Dark and exotic, like a gypsy, with a body that was the stuff of a horny man's dreams. My dreams. I was trying to claw myself out of one of them when Auntie walked in.

"Maria! How nice! What brings you out in this fog?"

"I was told I had to get down here and see your new employee," she said, looking right inside me with her black, barely smiling eyes.

"What do you think?" Auntie said. "Will he do? He doesn't clash with the decor, does he?"

"No," Maria said. "He doesn't."

She and Auntie started chatting about the crew on one of the fishing boats; one of the new men had gotten arrested and Maria's husband was hoping to hire a new hand.

"Do you know anything about fishing, Jon?" she asked. "It pays a lot more than working here."

"Don't even think about it!" Auntie said to me. "You're mine this summer!"

"I wasn't thinking about it," I said. "Besides, the pay'll be pretty good here when you give me extra for modeling."

Auntie looked at me funny, and glanced at Maria. I was panicking a little inside. Taking off my clothes in front of the eight wives, in front of Maria, in front of Auntie, seemed out of the question. And yet, I'd just offered it up.

"You'll be modeling for us?" Maria asked, looking excited. "Wow. That'll be...fun."

"Tell the others," Auntie said to her, "but lets all keep this quiet, all right? I don't want a bunch of angry husbands coming down here giving us grief. It's just figure drawing class, but a lot of them wouldn't understand."

"Right," Maria said. "Yes, we'll keep it under wraps."

She smiled, looking happy and a little shy. Her face was intoxicating, and the rest of her more like heroin, dangerous but irresistible. Auntie told me later that Maria was born in Portugal, the daughter of a fisherman. The family had come to Maine when she was ten, which explained the unusual trace of an accent that I couldn't place. She was twenty-eight years old and already firmly entrenched in the life of a fisherman's wife.

The other women were older, ranging from thirty to fifty-six. Five were married to fisherman, one to a mail carrier, and one to a diver who specialized in working on the hulls of the fishing fleet. I didn't think too much about all that. The modeling thing was stuck in my head. It seemed like an okay thing to do. Men modeled nude at school, so it couldn't be all that bad. I was glad Auntie said it would stay quiet, though. That seemed smart. I could already see how news in a small village traveled fast, and bad news probably spread even faster. If I was really going to take my clothes off, I wanted as few people as possible to know about it.

—

Auntie suggested I call her Pam or Pamela when we were at the gallery. She thought it might be more comfortable for me when the others were around, less childish sounding than "Auntie." I agreed. I'd actually been thinking about doing it, but I didn't know if she'd like it. I was working full time with her, learning the business, and it seemed silly to revert to Auntie in the evenings, so Pamela it was. It seemed more adult than Pam, sexy even, although I wasn't sure why that angle was in my head.

The first art class with me involved took place on a Tuesday night. I was interested to see how it all worked. It was exciting, really, with a lot of nice energy in the air. I wondered how much of it had to do with me. None of the women had been around to say hello for days and I was a little worried that my willingness to model had disrupted the regular routine, but on Tuesday night at seven o'clock all the ladies were there, most of them dressed in jeans and simple shirts, ready to work. Some looked a little shy, and some looked excited. All of them seemed to have a happy twinkle in their eye.

Auntie had asked me to bring down a box of wine and a bowl of pretzels from the apartment. The women all chipped in to buy the weekly wine. The buzzing conversation quieted when my footsteps on the creaky staircase announced my arrival. It felt odd to be wearing nothing but a bathrobe in the middle of a gathering of women. My hairy legs showed out the bottom, and my newly hairy chest showed out the top. My cock was blessedly soft, only subtly pushing at the front.

"There's our handsome man," Auntie said.

"Where do you want these, Pamela?" I asked.

There were many smiles when they heard me call her Pamela. I blushed a little. Maybe Auntie was the better choice? They probably would have smiled at that, too.

"Over here on this table, Jon. We keep the glasses in this cupboard here."

Auntie was setting out the glasses when I got there, bent over in her tie-dyed peasant dress, her heavy bosom hanging braless, opening the low-cut dress like a window to heaven. I fumbled the bowl, almost spilling the pretzels, and I felt my cock double in size. I was in trouble, and class hadn't even started.

Luckily, drinking seemed to be the first order of the day, so I hid my problem behind the wine box and I filled glasses, including one for me.

"No tattlers about underage drinking, okay, girls?" Auntie said. "Jon's only nineteen."

"Nineteen?" Ginette said, looking happily surprised. "Oh my..."

At fifty-six, Ginette was the oldest of the women, old enough to be my grandmother, I suppose. That wasn't something I wanted to think about, so I picked out her best features and thought about how I would draw them. Her lovely eyes were the standout, and the turned up corners of her mouth. She looked quite good in her bluejeans, too, once I started thinking about it.

"Surprising, right?" Auntie said. "I think he looks very mature for nineteen. It's the dark hair and the dark eyes, and all that nice hair on him, I guess. How tall are you, Jon?"

"Six two," I said. "One eighty last time I checked, if we're...doing stats."

"We won't tell you how much we weigh," Auntie said.

All the women chuckled in agreement. There was nervousness in many of their laughs, and on some of their faces.

"There's plenty of wine, girls, and we're all walking home, so drink up. Your sketches will be better if you're loose."

Auntie gave me the bottoms up signal, encouraging me to finish my wine. I guess she thought I looked nervous, and she was right. She refilled my glass and I guzzled it halfway down.

"Fill that up and bring it with you," she said. "Why don't you take your place. Are we ready, girls? Ready to make some art?"

I was relieved that my cock was behaving, and the quickly ingested wine felt warm and mellow. I was suddenly excited to be there, in a room with good energy, with art to be made. I strolled to the little stage, set my glass down, slipped off my robe and took my place on the high, barstool-like chair. You could hear a pin drop in the room, and a couple of audible gasps.

It wasn't terribly surprising to see some of the women staring at me with open mouths, but seeing Auntie that way did surprise me. I glanced down at myself to make sure everything was all right, and I was greeted by the sight of pretty damn big cock. The boner I'd sprung looking down Auntie's dress had softened, but the length and girth hadn't dissipated much. My cock is funny that way, a grower not a shower, but a very slow shrinker.

"Now that's a male specimen," Auntie finally said. "We can draw that, right girls?"

There were murmurs and nervous nods. More wine was consumed. Charcoal pencils started scratching on art paper. Drawing was underway.

"Pay attention to your basics, girls," Auntie said. "Light and shadow. Don't let the form overwhelm you. Light and shadow. Light and shadow."

She started walking around the room, giving quiet advice. She bent down next to each student, the top of her dress opening each time, her breasts hanging full, moving freely. I was in trouble.

"Jesus!" Maria whispered. Her eyes flared wide when they caught mine. Auntie heard her, and looked up at me.

"Yes," she said. "Like I said, a real male specimen. We can work with this. You might want to start fresh, girls, and go for a different emotion."

Paper hit the floor all around the room. New drawings were started, some with frantic movements, trying to catch lightning in a bottle. My cock was fully hard, throbbing. I could barely breath.

"Can you hold that pose, Jon?" Auntie asked, looking hopeful.

I nodded, unsure.

"Let's go for the erotic, ladies. This is a special moment. Capturing magic is what makes art special."

I started to wilt a little and Auntie walked over to me. She leaned in and spoke quietly. "Can you keep it hard?" she asked. "It's just perfect. So beautiful. You can use your hand if you need to."

"Don't be alarmed, ladies," she said as she walked away from me. "Our model's just going to firm things up so you can keep working on that pose."

My hand went to my cock. My stomach muscles flexed when I felt my touch. I stroked the full length of me, trying to avoid eye contact. The sound of charcoal pencils on paper had fallen silent, my short shallow breaths the only sound.

"That's good, Jon. Very nice. Let's draw ladies. Concentrate. It's perfectly acceptable to add the hand if you like. You could add some motion if you want, the way I've showed you, with smudging or one of the other techniques. Or draw a nice, crisp line. Whatever strikes your fancy." She looked at me again. "Jon?" she said, nodding at my cock.

I took it in my hand again, not as embarrassed, stroking slowly, more naturally. It felt good, and my eyes went to Maria. She watched as I stroked, and I stroked, and I stroked. I guess I was waiting for Auntie to tell me to stop, but she didn't. My body started spasming and my breathing went ragged.

"Easy, big fella," Auntie said.

There were nervous giggles. I broke my eye contact with Maria and let go of my cock. It was red, the tip dark purple. My balls were tight. I stood for a moment to get some blood flowing in my ass. Then I was back on the stool, back in my pose. Auntie walked over and handed me my wine. She whispered in my ear. "Awesome, sweetheart. Totally...fucking...awesome."

So that was the first night of modeling. It ended with much awkwardness an hour later — me standing on the stage, my swollen, unsatisfied cock hanging like a sausage between my legs as I pulled my robe around me, hiding it. Auntie made the rounds to her students, guiding them on finishing touches, critiquing their work. I was sitting on the stool, sipping wine, trying to make sense of things. The women starting to mingle, showing surprised looks at each other's creations. I was embarrassed and wanted to leave and I think they could tell. When I stood up to go there was a strange look on all their faces, like they wanted to applaud my crazy, inappropriate performance but were too embarrassed to do so. Maybe it was just my imagination. Auntie could tell I was uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Jon," she announced. "You did wonderfully. We'll see you next week?"

I nodded, waved, and climbed the creaky staircase to some much needed privacy.

The women were downstairs for another hour. I could hear them through the floor, nothing I could make out clearly, but a general murmur of happy conversation. I desperately wanted to masturbate, but I was worried Auntie would appear around the corner at any moment. I thought about doing it in the shower, but that seemed blatantly obvious, and I worried the women would hear the water running and know what I was up to. I don't know why I was so embarrassed about it, I just was.

As I sat and waited I wondered what the women thought of the situation, me living in the apartment with Auntie, me unafraid to be naked, me with the hard cock that she seemed to like to show off. Did they all think it was appropriate? Aunt and nephew, shacking up? Would it become a village scandal? Did it matter?

I heard the women leave, the circuit breakers clicking off, the creak of the back stairs.

"Wow!" Auntie said, her face smiling and luminous.

The tie-dyed peasant dress she had on looked even more peasanty in the dim light, even more curvy in the shadows. I was sprawled on the couch in my sweatpants, trying to look casual. I suddenly wished I'd put on a shirt, and for some reason my bare feet felt naked.

"Looks like we've got ourselves an erotic art class!" she said. "I love it! Wasn't it fun?"

A smile took over my face and all my nervousness faded away. Auntie was spectacularly happy, and just plain spectacular. There was no way to be unhappy in her presence, a presence that was perfect in every way.

"I was worried when you first got hard," she said. "But then, it was just perfect. You're just perfect. You should have heard everybody talking about you. Most of them have never seen anything like you. You're special, you know. Most men aren't as...beautiful. I shouldn't admit this, but I happen to know your father had a really big dick, just like yours."

"Auntie! How do you know that!"

"Brothers and sisters see things sometimes. I was oblivious one morning, hungover. Mom and Dad weren't home so there was loud music on, I think. I walked into the bathroom and saw him masturbating. We both screamed, but I got a really good look at it. Seeing you downstairs brought that memory back, I'll tell ya!"

I knew I looked like my father, from all the old pictures of him I'd seen. Finding out my sexual parts were the same made me feel good, connected in a deeper way to the man I'd never known, but it was surprising to learn such a thing from Auntie.

"It's funny," she said. "Seeing him totally skewed my perceptions. When the first dick you see is eight inches and thick as a post, it sorta ruins you for the little ones. A big cock is a special thing, Jon. You're lucky. I'm surprised that gold-digging slut that took your virginity didn't stick around just to fuck you some more. I would have."

Everything Auntie said was surprising. What she said next surprised me, too.

"Did you relieve the pressure? I thought for sure you were gonna spurt in front of everybody.That would have opened some eyes."

"No," I said. "I though maybe you were coming up."

"What, you're not embarrassed about jerking off, are you? It's not like we haven't heard each other. It's a small apartment."

I just sat there, unsure of what to say, slowly realizing the noises I'd heard through the bedroom wall were just what I'd thought they might be. Auntie's eyes got wide as she contemplated my silence. "Oh," she said. "You mean...you thought I was coming up to...help you?"

"No! That's not what I was thinking about!"

"And?" she said. "Now that you are thinking about it? Now that we're thinking about it? I'd be happy to. Really."

It was the moment. The big one. The moment that unleashed a torrent. It started slowly, though, with a trickle, or more accurately, a spurt. As I sat there reclined on the couch, it was obvious I was hard again. I did nothing to hide it. Auntie waited for an answer, but my silence seemed to make her happy. She smiled and my heart melted. I lifted my ass and pushed my sweatpants down around my thighs. Auntie got them down the rest of the way, leaving them around my ankles. She sat down next to me, eyeing the hard hunk of meat that had lifted above my thighs.

"I've been told I give good handjobs," she said, glancing at my eyes. "You can tell me if its true."

The next few minutes aren't the clearest in my mind, but I'm sure you'd like to know what happened, and I'd like to remember it better, so I'll see if I can separate the memory from the psychedelic swirl that's still alive in my mind when I think of that evening.

Auntie's fingers wrapped around my throbbing girth, slowly, like she was picking up an injured bird from the forest floor. Her touch sent shivers through me and goosebumps rose on my skin. Her open lips flashed a smile when she saw my reaction, her eyes seeming to flare with an inner light.

"Look, sweetheart," she said. "Your goosebumps gave me goosebumps." Her face lit up like it was wonderful news, and it was. Her hand moved on me, gentle, with a touch like velvet. "Fuck you're big," she said, her voice breathy and soft.

The next part surprised me. For a moment I thought she was going to take me into her mouth, but instead her head hovered over me and a shimmering drop of spit fell on my hard shaft, spit that was still connected to her luscious lips by a thread-like string of saliva. She worked the slippery lube with her hand, moving more deliberately, squeezing my throbbing cock a little tighter. And then another drop fell from her lips, bigger, bubbly, and then another. Her hand was sliding over slick, slippery skin.

"How's that feel, baby? Hmm?" she asked, her voice a sexy whisper.

I couldn't speak. My muscles were locking up and doing things on their own. I didn't feel an orgasm yet, but Auntie had me floating in another, similar place, my mind detached, my body swimming in warm, tingly energy.

Auntie let some more lube drop from her lips, and then her other hand joined the party, sometimes working my cock two-handed, sometimes massaging my balls in a way that should have been too rough but felt so good I cried out in blissful joy.