I stepped across the carpet, making sure my bare cock was in plain, full, swinging view, and as I passed her, she turned and followed like a latching magnet, laying a hand on my shoulder. “The faucets were being finicky,” she stated. “Let me help you.”
We entered the bathroom and she leaned into the shower, turning the knobs and playing with the settings like a mad scientist. I couldn’t comprehend what would possibly happen next. Would she somehow connive her way to taking a shower with me? Was she going to hang out in the bathroom fixing herself at the mirror while I washed myself?
Why was I even laying out these crazy scenarios?
She leaned forward and tested the water temperature with her fingers, using her other hand to hold onto my hip for balance. She veered herself back, letting the hand slightly slip downward where it grazed the outskirts of my curved bare bottom. “Good to go,” she verified. “Lucky it didn’t give you the trouble it did for me.”
And then she left, simple as that, slightly closing over the door behind her.
I was a little perplexed. Was this a weirdly perverted game she was playing? Maybe it was nothing of sexual nature after all. Maybe she was just exercising the revealed exhibitionist in herself, getting a little charged buzz of excitement doing it around me but simply leaving it at that. It was the only sensible explanation.
I mean, what did I expect to happen? As curiously invigorating as this had been so far, was I really going to do something sexual with my blood relative aunt? It was, after all, a little bizarre to think about.
So I got in the shower but made a quick session of it, turning it off a few fast minutes later due to the fact that I couldn’t concentrate because of the weirdness going on. As the run-off water dripped from the faucet, I opened the clear curtain and looked around, realizing in the thrill of all this I had forgot to bring my damn towel in with me.
Shit.
I almost laughed in my head at the irony. There I was, playing a coy and sly reactionary game of noticeable nakedness myself and now I legitimately was stuck nude. I didn’t want to go into the room dripping wet. But hell, Aunt Keri had already been flailing her naked boobs and butt around me so far with such easygoing content that I suppose it was redundant at this point to avoid it, whatever her reasons were.
“Hey, Aunt Keri?” I called out, a slight choke in my words.
A moment later the door smoothed open as she slightly poked her head in. She was still naked. She was STILL naked! I figured by now she would have at least put something on, but this whole time, she was still rockin’ that nude body frame like an elegant Roman statue come to life. Damn, was she planning to sleep naked? Why is this the first night she’s doing this? “What’s up?” she asked.
“I’m real sorry, but I forgot to bring in my towel in with me. I’m such an idiot. Would you mind grabbing it for me, please? It’s in my blue suitcase,” I requested, standing there with my body dripping wet, and pretending like I was casually trying to conceal my manhood below.
“No problem,” she retorted, turning away but re-appearing moments later empty handed.
“In your blue suitcase you said? I didn’t see one in there. Did you take it out?”
Legitimate disappointment rippled through me as I gave a sigh under my breath. I think I forgot my damn towel. I’m always doing that on trips; forgetting one single thing that screws me over later, no matter how many times I go over a packing checklist. “Shit,” I mumbled. “Now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure I forgot to pack one. Maybe I… would you mind grabbing me a shirt or two, from my black bag? My dirty clothes.”
“A shirt? To dry yourself off with?” she asked, eyebrows perked in a funny state. “Don’t be silly. Just use MY towel.” She disappeared for a quick second and fully pushed through the door, bare feet patting across the tiled floor as she handed me her dark red towel.
“Oh, uh… I…” I murmured, reluctantly taking the towel. “I could wait, if you just ran across the street and bought one.”
“It’s not a big deal,” she insisted. “It’s not even that wet anymore. Just a little damp. We’ll go out and buy you one tomorrow. One of those “I heart NYC” ones,” she smirked. “I do dumb stuff like that all the time. Really, it’s fine. I’m not gonna make you stand there sopping wet waiting for me to go buy one.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she had already left, closing over the door behind her down to just a slimly open crack. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little embarrassed, since this wasn’t my plan, but still, the thought of her coming back in to see me naked again was nothing short of exhilarating. Maybe it was me playing the game now. I started drying myself off…legs, arms, back…
And as I rubbed the damp, moist towel up and down my nude body, I started thinking how this had now advanced to a physical level. I was touching my naked body with the same thing she had been touching hers with. That towel captured all the wetness across every inch of her body… her face, her legs, her shoulders, her ass, her…
A bolt of lightning zapped my thoughts.
She had wiped her pussy across this towel.
Somewhere across the damp fabric, her pussy lips had rippled over the towel. Those tiny hairs of her neatly trimmed cunt had chaffed and buffed across the softness of it. My hanging penis suddenly kicked to life, slowly stiffening and expanding like some kind of balloon animal blow-up.
I brought the towel up to my face. I couldn’t really tell if there was some kind of her body scent still lingering across it. Now my wetness was mixed with hers on that towel… two naked wet bodies joined together in one simple form of cotton-woven material.
I guess someone else could have figured I should have just jerked the kinky excitement of this whole ordeal out of me in the sensible confines of the running shower, but I’ve never been much of a shower whacker. Every now and then, if the mood strikes me and the water is nice and hot, sure, but otherwise it’s just never been my thing.
No, a part of me wanted a more closer experience. More interactive. More… intimate.
So I bunched the towel up and slid my hard cock inside it, starting to groove and buck my hips as I pumped it. Sure, the damp fabric felt nice, tickling and rubbing against my shaft and balls, but it was its present state that really gave me the true pleasure… a wet towel used by my aunt only minutes earlier.
I closed my eyes and grinded, still dripping here and there as I stood on the rug next to the tub. The door pushed open as Aunt Keri casually dipped in and reached to the sink, grabbing a comb. “Sorry, just grabbing my comb,” she said but sharply cut herself off with a gasp as her eyes widened at the sight of me fucking her towel.
I huffed a quick, almost morbid breath. “Oh, shit,” I mumbled, trying to make it look like I had simply been drying my front side off.
“I’m… so sorry… I…” she fumbled with her words, bashfully disappearing out the door as she closed it back over.
I stood there for a good long minute or two, eyes closed in unbelievable disgrace as the my dick throbbed and slowly came back down from its heated state of erectile arousal.
Eventually I mustered up the dignity to leave that bathroom, even though part of me wanted to hide in there forever. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what I was doing. That was clear enough in her reaction.
To catch me doing that would be one thing, but now doing it with the towel she had graciously just given me, well, I’d be at a loss for words with a reasonable explanation. I figured I should just bite the bullet and get it over with. Maybe it’d be less awkward than letting it linger in both our minds the rest of the trip.
I slowly walked over and sat on my bed, now making sure to hold her towel against my lower regions in a shameful method of concealment. She was sitting on her bed, still stark-naked, but she had been working on her laptop computer, probably for her job. I reached over and grabbed my shirt, untangling it from its inside-out state.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” she broke the silence.
I lightly scratched the back of my head in awkwardness.
“I get it. You’re eighteen, you’ve got the stress of deciding your future weighing down on you this trip, you’ve got a lot of hormones raging through you, the shower, the bathroom… kind of one of the prime places to, um, let that out. I shouldn’t have barged right in there.”
“No, it’s… it’s okay. It’s… not your fault. I’m the one that should be apologizing,” I insisted.
“Don’t,” she simply and kindly said. “I should be embarrassed. I mean, here I’ve been, prancing around all nude. I should have taken into consideration of asking first. I’m a bit of an at-home nudist. I guess when I took my towel off I just wasn’t thinking and did it out of habit, and then when I realized what I did, I noticed you weren’t freaking out or anything, so I kind of, just, rolled with it.”
“It’s cool,” I waved it off. “I figured it might be something like that. It’s just nudity. It’s no big deal.”
She gave a light shrug. “When you stripped down without any hesitation in front of me, I also figured you were cool with it. Like maybe you were some kind of kindred nudist spirit in the family.”
I gave a small chuckle. “I guess, yeah. I mean, who doesn’t like being naked? Even if it’s by yourself, it’s still exciting. Tell you the truth, that’s why I did it. Something about the rush of someone who’s never seen you that way before.”
“Still though, I should have cleared it with you in a more mature way. Didn’t mean to fry your brain and traumatize you at the sight of your old Aunt Keri strutting around the room with her sagging heap of ass and flabby naked boobs flapping around,” she self-depreciated with a playful smile.
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