Laura of London

[neerathemall]

It was around 5pm on a dark winter afternoon. I was just about to begin my usual late-afternoon raid on the fridge when my aunt called out from the living room. I suppose she's still my aunt. She used to be married to my mother's brother. They broke up several years ago, but she and my mother have always stayed friends. And whenever my parents had to go away to one of their conferences, my aunt would normally move in to make sure I didn't get up to any mischief.
'James? Is that you?'
'Yeah,' I replied. 'I'm just going to make a sandwich.'
'Before you do that, I'd like you to come in here, please.'
'Can it wait?' I called back. 'I'm starving.'
'No it can't,' my aunt said firmly.
When I walked into the living room, the curtains were already drawn, shutting out the damp early evening, and there was a cosy glow coming from the fireplace. My aunt was sitting on the couch. She was dressed in a loose black skirt and a silky pink T-shirt top. Like the skirt, the shirt was loose-fitting and the silky material dbangd softly over her full breasts. On her lap there was a pile of magazines. I immediately recognised the magazine on the top of the pile as the Fiesta Readers' Wives Special I'd bought a few days earlier. Uh-oh.
'James, how old are you?' my aunt asked.
'Uh, eighteen,' I replied, trying not to look at the Readers' Wives Special.
'Don't you think that's a little young to be thinking about a wife?'
'I don't know what you, uh, what you mean,' I said, still trying not look at the magazine.
'Well,' my aunt said, 'I assume you mistook this magazine – which I found in your bedroom – for some sort of catalogue. You probably thought that it served much the same purpose as a clothing catalogue or a kitchenware catalogue. Is that right?'
I didn't know what to say. 'Well – well ...,' I stuttered.
'Just browsing? Seeing what's available?
'I just, um ... er ....'
'Let's have a look, shall we,' my aunt said. 'Why don't you come and sit here beside me and we'll see if we can work out why you might have a porn mag like this – because that's what it is, James. But then I think you know that. Come on,' she said, patting the sofa next to her. 'Come and sit here and let's see if we can work out what you were hoping to learn from this intriguing publication.'
What could I do? Except as I was told.
'You're very quiet, James,' my aunt said.
What did she expect? 'I ... I ... er ... I don't know what to say' I said.
My aunt opened the magazine and turned a couple of pages. 'Who do we have here?' she asked. 'Lyn of Bolton. An attractive young lady, wouldn't you say, James.'
'I suppose so,' I replied.
'A nice smile. Nice figure. Not too thin, not too fat. A nice bum. Do you like the look of Lyn of Bolton, James?'
I thought Lyn of Bolton looked hot, but that wasn't the sort of thing one said to one's aunt. 'She's quite nice, I suppose,' I finally mumbled.
'Quite nice? Yes. Rather underdressed for what appears to be a golf course, but quite nice. My aunt asked, turned the page. 'Louise of Leeds. And what do we think of Louise? A bit flat-chested perhaps? I suspect you prefer women who are a little more womanly don't you, James? Mind you, Louise does seem to be very proud of her vulva. Just look at the way she's showing it off. Just look at the way she's parting her puffy down-covered labia so that you get a good view of the pink inside. Tell me, James, how do you feel when you look at Louise lying there showing off her vulva?'
'I don't know,' I said very quietly.
'Does the sight of Louise and Lyn – and Charlotte here,' said my aunt turning to yet another provocatively reclining reader's wife, ' – does the sight of these sexually provocative women make you feel just a little bit horny perhaps? Does the sight of them cause your penis to stir? Is that what happens when you gaze on all this forbidden flesh?'
'I suppose so,' I said. What else could I say?
'Of course you suppose so,' my aunt said. 'And I would have been very disappointed if you didn't suppose so. It's only natural that the sight of these semi-naked women, displaying their breasts and vulvas, should make you feel aroused. That's the whole point of publications like this. And tell me, James, what do you do in your bedroom when you look at these women and become aroused?'
I could see where she was going but I didn't want to tell her what I really did. Instead I said: 'I don't know what you mean.'
'Oh, come now, I think you do,' my aunt said. 'I think you masturbate. I think you take your erect penis in hand and rub it or stroke it or pump it – or whatever your personal preference is – until you reach an orgasm and ejaculate. That's what I think. Am I right, James?'
'I suppose so,' I said.