Together with Troy Ch. 01

"Bullshit."

"Maybe." I clasped the robe together and bent forward to kiss his forehead. "Listen I'm turning in. Don't worry about disturbing me. Stay up as long as you want. I'll let you sleep late in the morning and when you get up, we'll do lunch. We're meeting your folks and grandmother at La Papisserie at 6:30."

"OK. Goodnight, Aunt Lori. Dream sweet."

Oh, how I wished. "Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite."

***

After getting back to my bedroom, I hung the robe in the bathroom and dressed for bed. As usual of late, I wore a man's 3XL tee as a night shirt. After Mark had moved out, I'd worn sexy stuff to try to keep up my spirits. I'd carefully brush my hair and apply make-up as if I were getting ready to please a man.

The effort hadn't worked, so I stopped. In fact, it made me feel ridiculous. Since the realization, I just got comfortable and hit the sack.

I didn't dream sweet. I didn't even sleep. I lay in the big empty bed and felt like shit. Seeing Mark and his wife had upset more than I would have thought. There was no reason he shouldn't attend the marriage of his niece; I just hadn't expected it. It wasn't, after all, a blood relationship. In my despondency and under the influence of the champagne, I thought that the son of a bitch had shown up just to piss me off. That, and to show off his wife. Shit, she was almost young enough to be his daughter. And pregnant! Oh, Lord! Sweet Jesus, what a bastard!

It's not like we had a terrible marriage. We had a nice home, two great kids, our careers. I wasn't a nag. I wasn't demanding. I was a great cook and good housekeeper. Mark certainly had no reason to complain about our sex life. No, I kept him satisfied.

At least I thought I had. I could still remember the quiet evening when he'd sat me down at the dining room table to tell me he'd been carrying on a affair for the past eight months and now wanted a divorce so he could marry the bitch.

I was absolutely stunned. The recriminations didn't start immediately, but they didn't take long to get rolling. How could he? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with me? How had I failed him? What could I do to keep him around? What about the kids? What would I do without him? I lowered myself to begging. I'd do anything to save our marriage. Nothing I said fazed him. He was resolute.

After the feelings of loss came the anger. We had screaming fights. OK, it was me who did the screaming. Mark was so fucking calm about everything and that just made me madder. I got louder and more shrill. The realization that I was just driving him further away brought me to my senses. I became the super loving wife. Nothing was too good for my man. Hell, if it meant keeping him, I'd even let him have the bitch on the side. Just don't hurt me this way. Please!

In a week, he was gone. I got the divorce papers from his lawyer one week exactly to the day that he'd told me of his betrayal.

I hugged a pillow closer to me and fought back tears. I was too old for this shit, I tried to tell myself. Let it go.

Memories, good memories, kept crowding in. They were followed by the bad ones. I began to see-saw between sadness and anger. My mind was a whirlpool of the past.

Having to stop everything, I leveraged myself out of bed. I got the pills my doctor had prescribed for me after the breakup. With a glass of water, I took half of one of the pills. A whole one would make me loopy. Half would put me to sleep. I returned to bed.

An hour later I was still staring at the ceiling. Hell and damnation! I was getting angry again, this time with my body. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked like shit, tousled hair, haggard face, crazy eyes.

Enough is enough, I decided. Maybe a glass of milk would help. If it didn't, I could always do a little midnight cleaning. Vacuum the house. Empty the trash. Wash the car and mow the yard. Paint the exterior trim of the house. Just a few small jobs that I'd been putting off.

I remembered I had a house guest. OK, no vacuuming. I headed for the kitchen. The house was quiet around me. I was the only person awake in the whole world. Except for my fucking ex-husband who was, no doubt, fucking his slut whore of a wife right now!

Down, girl! You're doing this to calm down. Don't get upset again.

On bare feet, I padded down the hall towards the kitchen. I had to pass the door to the study. I was surprised by the pale glow that came from within. Troy must still be on the computer. I had thought he was in bed by now. I was obviously wrong.

I peeked in on him. The scene shocked me. What I could see of my nephew, his shoulders and legs, was naked. I could see the computer monitor clearly. He was flipping through thumbnails on the computer. He'd click on some of them and I could see they were pictures of naked men. He was using his left hand to maneuver the site. His right had was out of sight, but I could tell he was jerking off. Troy had gotten a pump bottle of hand lotion from the bathroom.

I tiptoed away from the door, back to my room. I was embarrassed. More than embarrassed, I was mortified. I'd learned something about Troy that I didn't want to know. And once the knowledge became known, I could never efface it.

I sat on the bed. I processed, as the current buzz word applied. Troy jacking off to pictures of cocks. He liked guys, obviously. Did Liz and Gary know? What would they think? I'd be crushed, at least initially, if I found out my son was homosexual. I'd adjust to it, though. I wasn't prejudiced. I worked with several and didn't mind and how prejudiced did that sound? Like during the Civil Rights era when even bigoted white Southerners would protest that they didn't hate nigras, some of their best friends were nigras, yeah like the trash men, the shoeshine guy, friends like that.

OK, I know they like to be called gay, but I'd grown up calling them homosexuals and that's the way I thought. At least I didn't call them fags like some people did. If Troy was oriented that way, it was his life. It wasn't my place to tell his parents, either. I knew Gary and Liz would adjust.

The shock subsided. I faced a dilemma. Did I try to sneak past the open study door to get to the kitchen? Two trips, to the kitchen and back. I thought I could get away with it. Just remember to be ultra quiet in the kitchen.

I actually made it to the kitchen without any noise. I got a clean glass out of the cupboard and poured it full of milk. Also, I took a swig from the jug, something I'd never have done as a married woman. Divorce can be so liberating.

On my way back, I noticed the study was no longer silent. I shouldn't have stopped at the door, but I did. Foolishly, I looked in. I could clearly see the pix on the large screen. They flickered on the monitor as Troy thumbed through them. At certain ones, he would pause. I didn't see any pattern. Boys stroking other guys, solo masturbation, oral sex, anal sex, black, white, long and skinny, stubby but fat, mammoth, super gigantic, inhumanly humongous...The pictures came and went.

I leaned against the doorway. The move was partly from a weakness of my knees and partly to see better. I still couldn't see his cock. Although I knew I should get the heck out of there, I stayed. Although I should have been shocked to see my nephew beating his meat, I watched. Mutual masturbation had been among Mark's and my sexual activities. It had been a turn on to watch the son of a bitch shoot a heavy load from his cock as he aimed at me.

Troy was moaning slightly. His body gently rocked back and forth. The sound of pounding flesh was louder and quicker. The moans turned to incoherent words.

I had to leave. I didn't go. I wanted to reach inside my panties and get myself off, too. I was so horny. I hadn't had a good soul-rocking orgasm in so long, I was ready to hire myself out to a college fraternity or find me a German shepherd or something, anything to get laid good and hard and often.

I may have made a noise. Maybe he just sensed my presence. Whatever the cause, Troy jerked around in the chair.

"Aunt Lori!"

Fuck, it hit the fan now. I darted away from the door, back to the safety of my bedroom. I slammed the door and locked it behind me. I collapsed on the bed. Hell and damnation!

Slowlyly I came to my senses. I realized that I wasn't the one being traumatized. Most likely, Troy was feeling a million times worse than I was. Do what you gotta do, girl.

I pulled on my robe and slippers.

***

Troy was sitting at the computer. The machine was shut off. He had pulled on his pants. His head hung low.

I made shuffling feet noises as I entered the study. I didn't want to sneak up on him again.

He heard me. He looked up at me. His face was tear streaked and his eyes were red.

"I can only imagine how you feel," I told the teen. I got a chair and pulled it a few feet closer to him without invading his personal space. "I'm sorry that I was watching you. That was totally wrong of me. I don't have any excuse."

"N-no, that's OK."

"It's not OK, honey. What I did was so wrong."

He wiped his nose on the back of his wrist. "You must think I'm a f-fucking perve."

"No, not at all. Do you want to talk about it?" Wanting to let the offer sink into his mind, I left my chair, went to the guest bath, and brought him a box of tissues.

He took them, blew his nose, wiped it, and made up his mind to unburden his soul. It was there on his face. He said, "I'm not a f-fucking f-fag."

"Honey, it doesn't matter if you are or aren't. I can't condemn you what your body tells you, won't judge you."

"No, it's true. I don't like guys."

I tried to decipher what he was getting at.

He read my expression well. Troy explained, "I like girls, but they scare me."

"Scare you?" I asked when his silence grew a bit long. I knew that I had to keep him talking. "How?"

"The way y'all act. I don't know if a girl likes me or not. With the guys on the team, they're easy. Hell, it doesn't mean anything. It's just something we do."

"Masturbate in front of each other?"

"Yeah, and other things." His eyes pleaded with me to understand. I nodded encouragement and he went on, "Some of the guys, yeah, they like it for real, but the rest of us, we just go along. You know? Cory Thatcher says a hard, uh, a hard cock, doesn't know whose hand or mouth it is. Most of us just close our eyes and act like it's a girl. I guess he's right, but it's not like a real girl was, uh, was doing it. I mean, I think a girl would feel different."

"But they scare you."

"Yeah. Like, they tease a guy and come on, and you try to kiss them and they laugh at you. Say you don't know how to kiss, get your little sister to teach you and come back in three or four years when you know what you're doing."

I knew girls just like that. I had them in my classes. I'd heard them laugh about how they'd teased so and so. It was a game. I pointed out, "All girls aren't like that."

"No, but the ones who ain't, like Sabrina Brown, I mean, she'll fuck anybody. I don't want a ho like that. Or somebody like Melody Carnes who's saving it for her husband. With us guys, that's all it is, us guys feeling good, no pressure to do it this way or let him do that, it's just feeling good." His eyes pleaded with me for affirmation.

"I see what you're getting at." I was curious. I asked what he and the other team members had done.

He turned red as a beet and explained that the guys had started out in that grand old male tradition of circle jerks. These had led to beating off each other which in turn led to oral sex. He had been blown and had himself sucked off teammates. Some of the athletes had graduated to anal sex. Troy knew that was next on the agenda for him, but so far he had resisted. It seemed to him to be an irreversible act. Once he'd taken it up the ass, in his mind there was no going back.

Suddenly, his eyes filled with tears and he dropped his head, sobbing. "I'm n-not a f-fucking f-faggot."

I closed the gap between us. I knelt on the floor and hugged him. Troy put his arms around me and clung there like a six year old. Crying racked his body. I made comforting noises.

"You're not going t-to t-tell mom and d-dad are you?" my nephew blubbered.

"Of course not, silly. You didn't do anything wrong. Like you said, it's just you guys. It doesn't mean anything." I laughed, "And those girls who scare you or put you down, they're probably as insecure as y'all are. Believe me, I'm a girl and I know what I'm talking about. We did the same thing when we were your age. Well, some girls did."

"You sure?"

"What, that I'm a girl?" The thought that I was a girl, a girl hugging a handsome young shirtless man in the dead of night, hit me suddenly. I also realized I wasn't dressed for this type of duty.

"No, that they're the same as we are."

"Positive."

He looked at me. He smiled.

"Have you ever been, uh, ever been intimate with a girl?"

"Not really. They won't even give me a second look." His countenance was truly miserable. "I mean, you know, we'd play doctor as kids, but those weren't girls. We were little back then and didn't know."

"All girls aren't teasers and hos and frigid virgins. Some of us are just a frightened as you. We have to learn to work through th-that f-fear."

My mind shut down. My heart went into overdrive. I cradled his face in my hands. I kissed Troy. It wasn't an aunt's kiss, either. I let the heat build up slowly until our open mouths were glued to each other and I was sucking hungrily on his tongue. The kiss went on and on as we licked at each other's lips, as my nephew tasted my tongue in his mouth, till our breathing was harsh and strong.

I released Troy and sat back on my heels. I smiled at him.

"Was that scary?"

He shook his head.

We kissed again. This time, Troy reached behind and supported my head. His fingers played in my hair. He was still slobbering too much, but he'd learn, I was sure. I put my hands on his muscled legs, rubbing from his knees upward. My touch wasn't gentle. I dug my fingers into the resisting flesh. His quads tensed and eased. I moved my hands to his inner thighs. I made a circuit from there to his knees and back.

His fingers no longer played with my hair. His grip tightened.

I released his mouth. I kissed his bare chest. I loved hairy men, but there weren't any hairs in sight. I trailed kisses across his skin. He had both of his hands on the back of my head by that time. He kept pressure on it and the pressure was downward.

With difficulty - he was a strong young man - I lifted my face away from him.

"Aunt Lori, I -"

My finger against his lips stopped him. His eyes were wide, hot, urgent.

"I want," I told him, suddenly losing my nerve and having to start over. "I want you to go take a shower. I want you to take a good hot shower and wash every square inch of your body. Don't miss a spot. I'll know if you miss one spot, believe me, and I'll never talk to you again as long as I live. Brush your teeth. Brush them well. There's mouthwash in the medicine cabinet. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah...Yes, ma'am."

"I'll leave a robe on your bed in the guest room. Wear it. IT. Understand?"

"Y-yes, ma'am." He nodded to emphasize that, indeed, he understood.

"It's 11:47. At exactly 12:17 you'll be totally clean, teeth washed, wearing the robe I leave for you on the bed in the guest room, standing in here. Do you understand? Repeat it."

"I'll brush my teeth, be clean, wearing the robe you leave, at 12:17. Back in here."

"Standing."

"Standing."

"OK, it's 11:48. You've got 29 minutes and not a second to lose."

He hurried past me. As I got to my feet, I bet myself that he'd never moved with such alacrity off the football field or baseball diamond..

I moved quickly, too. I didn't want to think about what I was going to do. Knowing it was wrong, I let action take the place of thought. My plan had sprung fully into my mind and I had less time to get ready than my nephew.

First stop was the closet in the master bedroom. I grabbed a terry robe that Mark hadn't taken with him when the bastard moved out. I dropped it off in Troy's borrowed room. Next, I headed for the storage room off the garage where I found an old painter's drop cloth. I snatched it up.

Back to the rear of the house. From the back of my closet I got an old blanket. I returned to the study, shoved all the chairs away to open up as much clear floor space as was possible, spread the drop cloth on the carpet, and laid the blanket on top of that. I turned the fluorescent desk lamp so that it shone directly up. I got four sandalwood scented candles out of the master bathroom, as many dinner candles as I could find, and placed them around the study. There were eleven candles in all. I lit them.

I put one of my relaxation CDs - waterfalls, the crashing surf, and flowing rivers and streams, in the player. I turned it on, adjusting the volume so that the sounds were above a whisper, but wouldn't distract us from any conversation. It had a run time of two hours. That should be sufficient time to get us going, I thought.

I got the last bottle of champagne form the refrigerator, put it in an ice bucket, and dumped ice on top. I wrapped it in a kitchen towel and took it to the study. I also got my favorite aromatic oil warmer, set it up on the desk with a tea light, and poured unscented body oil in the dish.

With twelve minutes to spare, I took a quickie shower. I slipped into a red semi-sheer negligee Mark (that bastard) had gotten me for St. Valentine's Day a few years previously. Floor length, it was gathered at the back and tied in front, allowing a daring view of my bosom. The wrap that went with it was a bit transparent. The combination teased without being blatant. I slipped into high heeled mules that matched the red peignoir. Two minutes left me with barely time for a touch of White Diamonds behind the ears and in the valley of my cleavage and red on my lips.

I was standing in the study's soft light when Troy appeared. My nephew had lost his enthusiasm; he moved with caution. He wore one of my bastard ex-husband's robe, a plush pale blue robe he'd gotten on a Caribbean cruise one summer. The robe, bearing the golden crest of the forgotten ship, came a couple of inches below Troy's knees.

"Hello, darling," I greeted him. His eyes took me in as I added, "Right on time, I see. I'm glad you're punctual."

I stepped close to him. I took him in my arms and pulled him to me. His hands went around me. Even in his inexperience, he knew there was nothing between his hands and my body but two layers of thin nylon tricot. He had difficulty finding a place to put his hands.

Indecision was forgotten when I tilted my face up and waited for his lips. His arms tightened around my waist as we kissed. One hand drifted lower and I slipped my leg between his. His erection was immediate. God, I was horny and his reaction only made me hotter. My fingers moved in the tight space between us, found the belt of his borrowed robe, and tugged it open. His naked flesh burned my finger tips.

We separated so I could strip away his garment. His lean, almost skinny body was wonderful before my eyes. He was a young god, not yet a man but ready in every way to attain completion. His cock jutted out stiffly from his hairy loins. Until that moment, it had been a plaything for only himself and crass young males. I would worship it.

"I love you," I whispered, dropping to my knees. I was proud to be the first woman to kneel at this altar. I caressed his cock with trembling fingers. It was a healthy six inches stiff as a board, a cock any man would be proud to wield, the sword of masculine power. I rubbed it against my cheeks. I jacked it slowly while cupping his nuts with my free hand. They were heavy.