Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 7

The rest of Sunday passed placidly. Aunt Sue wanted to touch up the chapter she’d worked on yesterday, and I went into the backyard for a little sunning — this time with my bikini on, since her office window faced the spot where I was lying. Later we collaborated on dinner, then moved to the front porch for iced tea and talking. Finally we retreated to the living room, after the sun went down, and watched a little TV.

Aunt Sue went to bed after the eleven o’clock news but I sat up waiting for the late movie, an old Bogart flick. It wasn’t one of his biggies, just a pre-stardom job with Bogie as a supporting villain. No wonder I didn’t remember the title. I poured the last of the wine we’d began drinking into my glass, snacked up the rest of the cheese we’d been munching, and slouched in my chair trying to follow the rather draggy plot.

It wasn’t worth following. I slumped a little more, stretching my legs, licking the last wine drops from my lips. The room was dark and quiet, save for the TV set and its flickering black and white picture. Aunt Sue was probably asleep by now. I felt as if I were totally alone.

Maybe. I unbuttoned my blouse, left it hanging open for a few minutes, then removed it entirely. I like to be naked. Of course, I don’t get to do it much at home, except in my room, that with the family situation I live in, but when I get out on my own, I don’t intend to wear clothes at all in private. Unless, of course, Mama and Daddy are coming by for a visit. Any other callers will have to take pot luck.

Why stop at half-measures, Pamela Crosby? I asked myself, and there was no viable answer forthcoming. I stood up and let my jeans drop to the floor. They’re tight, and I had to wiggle to make them fall, and the clanging of the belt buckle sounded as loud as a hammer on an anvil. I held my breath for a minute, wondering if Aunt Sue had awakened, but she didn’t call out so it must have been all right.

It was better than all right when I took off my panties and settled my bare butt onto the soft cushion of the chair.

I touched my pussy, a soft testing touch, and found that I was warm and velvety. A little smile curled my lips. My snatch wasn’t quite so raw and tender this evening, and I didn’t jerk spastically when I fondled the lips of my cunt. A sure sign that my period was drawing to a close. And thank God for that! No wonder we call it the curse!

The warmth began to spread as I touched and rubbed my gash with a bit more vigor. Hush-a-bye, I thought, hush-a-bye, Susie. Her bedroom was here, on the ground floor, and if she wasn’t sleeping soundly, she might come strolling out when I least expected it. So I wished her sweet dreams and myself something even sweeter.

Oh, fuck! I shouldn’t trust it to chance. I stood up and got into my panties and shirt and went tiptoeing down to her door. Gently I opened it, peering inside. A shaft of moonlight arrowed through the open window, outlining and revealing her face where it lay on the pillow.

Her hair was loose and flowing, her eyes shut in dreamy sleep, and the cover lifted and fell in a soft, almost imperceptible motion as she breathed in her repose. Funny thing about moonlight, I told myself. It was very kind to Aunt Sue’s plain face. She looked almost pretty asleep, with her glasses off and her face relaxed. Or maybe it was just the relaxation. She wasn’t engaged in presenting a desired image to the world at large. Her guards were all down and I was seeing the natural Susan. Such a shame. If she really wanted to, if she were willing to work on herself… Oh, it was her business, not mine! If she wanted to be dowdy and ugly, she could be as dowdy and ugly as she fucking well wanted. All I’d come for was to find out whether she slept or woke.

I closed the door and went back into the living room. As I passed the wine bottle, I picked it up by the neck and tilted it to my lips for a cleaning-up job on the final droplets left inside. A taste of wine tinged on my tongue, but only a taste. It had been half-full when Aunt Sue brought it out this evening, but it was empty now.

For a moment I stood on the floor just holding the empty bottle. My fingers slid mindlessly up and down the long swanlike neck, onto the belied jug. It was a long-necked bottle indeed — seven or eight inches of glass crafted into a thin cool tube. Seven or eight inches. A lot of guys didn’t have cocks that long. Seven or eight inches.

I unbuttoned my shirt and let it drop to the floor. The room was dark except for the TV. No one could see me. I rubbed the bottle up and down my breast, between my tits, across my nipples. It was cool at first, the glass of it, but it warmed as it touched and was touched by my skin, and when it was nicely warm, I pressed it with my lips.

You’re crazy! I told myself, but I wasn’t really listening to me at the moment.

I put the bottle down for a sec, and took off my panties. Now I stood naked on the floor, and if Aunt Sue happened to come in on me now, I’d have some explaining to do, straight on. But I felt giddy and sexy and all woozy inside, and if I’d been called on for excuses, I could have come up with some zingers.

There was a car chase happening on TV — cops chasing the mob, one gang pursuing another — who cared? Some nice thirties’ style suspense music accompanied, full of clashing cymbals and string teasers, and I started into a brand-new boogaloo that fit the movie tune. As I danced, I swooped low, bending to the floor and picking up the bottle where I’d placed it while unpantying.