| Victoria and Helen, Chapter 7 My dreams were spicy, but there was no ending—no conclusion. Over and over the shower scene and the scene with the actresses in the movie kissing played out while I slept. Each time it was a little different. I couldn't see or didn't notice faces by the last time, I just had the sense that it was my Auntie and me in the scene and not the characters in the movie. When I woke up I felt like I was glowing, or tingling, or both. It felt intense but something was missing. Like reading a book and finding out that somehow the last chapter had gotten lost. I didn't normally shower before breakfast, but I didn't normally wake up all gooey between my legs either. By the time we finished breakfast and cleaned up the sun was beaming in through the patio doors and I knew that if it weren't for the air conditioning that it would have been getting hot already. Auntie Helen thought we should take a day off horseback riding to give my muscles a chance to heal. "We can just spend the day around the pool ... as long as you won't be too bored," she suggested. "You did say that you liked swimming." I wasn't the least bit worried about being bored. I only got to go to the community pool near our house when it was really hot and then it was always crowded with people trying to cool off. My fellow bathers stood around in the water and made it virtually impossible to actually swim. I was anxious to practice the strokes I'd learned in the swimming class mom sent me to. Mom said she wanted to feel safe when I was around water in case I ever fell in; I needed to know how to swim. I did get the basics but was sorely lacking in practice. I had a hard time getting into my one piece. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Mom had taken me to buy the suit last year right after I graduated elementary school. No other clothes I'd been wearing a year ago would have fit properly either. I looked at myself in the mirror and it was embarrassing. The back of the suit didn't cover my growing butt and kept trying to wedge itself in my crack, no matter how many times I pulled it out and stretched it over my cheeks. It was doing something similar in the front. There was enough material to keep my vagina covered but the tension caused by the fact that it was short in the body made the center seam embed itself. My new hair growth peeked out the sides. Stretching the crotch panel so it didn't show every feature was as useless as tugging at the back. As soon as I stopped pulling on it the suit went where it wanted. The top wasn't any better. It didn't actually have cups and when mom bought it I'd barely needed them anyway. Now the triangles that descended from the shoulder straps were too narrow and there was no material available to stretch over my emerging boobies. Even though the suit top was stretchy it pressed into my breasts pushing the excess flesh out both sides. The turquoise bathing suit with the darker blue trim looked absurd, but it wasn't as though I had any options. To make matters worse, the seam worked up inside in the front as I walked out the sliding doors of my room and onto the pool deck. It didn't take me any time to choose the suit I was going to wear in spite of the fact that there were five or six of them. It was all black and gathered into a huge round gold sort of buckle at a point just below my ribs. With a firm pull and a wiggle I had my mature bottom in the lower part and held the gathered part that led to the padded cups out in front of me. Leaning forward I let my torpedo shaped boobs nestle into the 'D' cups and then straightened up to fasten the halter like top behind my neck. Finally the hardest part, fluffing the top so my breasts really settled into the support and reaching behind my back to tie the string that pulled the bra part snug around my chest. I took the lounge pads out of the pool shed and was arranging the second one on the chair when Victoria emerged from her bedroom. The ill fitting suit and the huge grin on her face made her look younger than her fourteen years. As soon as she reached the water's edge she dabbled her toe into the sparkling blue ripples. I knew how warm it was, I had the heater set for seventy-six degrees. Right now, before the sun reached its apex, the pool was a couple of degrees warmer than the very pleasantly warm air. "Ya don't need to worry chicken," I goaded, "its warm!" With the comment I scooped a handful off the surface and flung it at her. The warm shower made her squeal and duck. Defensively she splashed back and the game was on. We exchanged curtains of water. I advanced toward her while she retreated. When she ran out of pool she could no longer defend herself in the splashing fight. Instead, she turned her back and bent over shielding herself from the plumes of warm water that I was still sending in her direction. When I reached where she was bent over I wrapped my arm around her middle. My back was toward her lowered head. Slipping my left arm around her midriff I lifted her feet right off the ground; she was so light. With her bottom facing up I applied my right hand in a couple of firm slaps to her bare buttocks. "Loser gets a spanking!" I announced noticing how the permanent wedgy of the undersized suit exposed even more of her pubescent tush as I lifted her hips. The cheek I'd slapped took on a bright pink glow and the bottom of her one piece had essentially turned into a thong. It gave me clear access to tan the other side of her adorable little ass. A couple of firm spanks later she had matching cherry pink cheeks. My ward's feet were kicking and she was squealing. She'd put her hands down on the pool deck for balance but didn't seem to be making as much effort to get away as I'd expected she would. "Oh ... oh dear ... I hope I didn't slap too hard," I apologized and gently rubbed the crimson flesh of her bum. "I didn't hurt you did I?" I'd released my grip around her waist and she'd straightened up. We were face to face and very close. Vicki's eyes were wide and her mouth was open—slack I should say—but there was no evidence of pain or distress on her face. "N ... No it's ... it's okay ... we were just playing ... fooling around..." she reassured me. She still sounded much more out of breath than could be accounted for by the physical exertion of our little game. "You're sure?" I probed stroking one warm velvet smooth cheek after the other. Our eyes were locked together and Victoria was biting her lip. My pussy had turned to molten wax and it was all I could do to stop caressing her hot little bum. I thought she'd tug the sides of the suit down to cover but instead she took two quick steps and plunged into the water. She swam awkwardly toward the other end. Her body was going several directions at once as though she was having a fight with the water. Churning and splashing with the uncoordinated movements she reached the far end, turned back toward me hanging onto the side and smiling like she'd just won Olympic Gold. I smiled back, sat down on the chaise and picked up my book. My hands were still tingling from slapping her ass and then caressing it. I pretended to read but was actually watching Vicki's novice swim strokes as she traversed the pool and thinking that she needed some coaching. My friend's daughter made five or six lengths of the pool before her inefficient stroke tired her out. I thought her little oranges were going to pop right out of her suit as she vigorously rubbed the water out of the sandy curls on her head. She plopped herself on the vacant lounge. I had positioned the chairs so that the foot ends were almost touching. The rest of the lounge was at a forty-five degree angle to the other. Vicki's knees were straight up and together but her feet were as wide apart as her hips. Looking over the top of my reading glasses and book I got another marvelous view of her teenaged vulva just barely covered by the inadequate swim suit. The fine, almost invisible, blonde curls filled the space between her inner thighs and half inch or so of material that flanked the center seam. The stitching had embedded itself so deep between her fleshy plump outer lips that most of the crotch panel itself was lost inside. I had brought some fashion magazines out for her amusement and put them on the table between us. My houseguest picked up the top one and began flipping through. I wondered about the sensations my teenaged friend might be generating as she rocked her hips back and forth as she flipped through the glossy pages. All of the models were gorgeous of course. None of them was naked—exactly—but several were about as close as one could get and still be considered to be modeling clothes. Under the guise of reading my own book I watched Vicki's reaction to the female porn. Her facial expressions thrilled me as much as her body movements. The subtle rocking of her hips became less subtle and was accompanied by her knees waggling in and out. I glanced up at her face and the flush was as unmistakable as the concentration and focus in her eyes. "Whew ... it's getting really hot," she sighed and cast the magazine aside on the lounge. When she got up she made no effort to adjust the crotch and seat of her bathing suit. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet as she crossed the short distance to the edge of the pool and plunged in; depriving me of the pussy grabbing sight. She was absolutely right about the heat. In the half hour or so we'd been sitting there the air temperature had most likely risen five or six degrees. The temperature between my legs had gone up at least double that. I was definitely in need of a cooling off. I slipped into the water which felt refreshing despite its warmth. With smooth powerful breaststrokes I caught up to and passed my ward. I reached the other end four or five seconds before her, despite her head start. I regularly did fifty or sixty lengths of the fifty foot pool to keep in tone. Vicki was huffing and puffing as though she'd just swum the English Channel by the time she arrived. "You're a really good swimmer," she gasped holding the wall beside me as we bobbed in the turbulence she'd created. "Well I had good teachers years ago," I confided. The memories attached to the statement weren't images they were just warm feelings after all these years. It wasn't the time to let those recollections flow. "Could you teach me?" the blonde pixie asked, "Pleeease!" "I can certainly help you improve your stroke if you'd like," I agreed. The look of innocent delight almost made me feel guilty. She made me hang on to the edge of the pool and kick. Auntie made me slow down and she handled each leg from my toes right up to the top at my hip. She controlled my knee first and then my hip until I had the frog leg kicking motion just right. The way her fingers felt on my legs it was hard to concentrate sometimes. I was finally doing it the right way, just too slow to keep my lower half up in the water. Auntie put her hand under my tummy to keep me near the surface while I practiced correct kicking in slow motion. I was trying to do it just the way she'd coached me but her hand under the water supporting me slid lower down my body. The feelings when her hand was cupping the pudgy fatness between my legs made me twitchy and jerky and I knew I wasn't doing it right any more. The hand that was holding me up felt more like it was massaging my mound. I wanted to say something—to make an excuse for why I wasn't doing the kick right anymore—but it felt really good and I didn't want her to stop. I realized that I'd never be able to get the words out anyway so I just continued doing the poor job of the frog-kick practice while the waves of sensation rolled up from between my legs. The way my too small suit was rubbing up inside made the waves feel sort of urgent. "That's it ... that's it ... a little faster," Helen encouraged. I still didn't think that I was doing it as smoothly as I'd been shown but my coach seemed satisfied so I picked up the pace. To my disappointment Auntie's hand slipped out from underneath me as the speed of my kicking became fast enough to keep my tushy on the surface. The subtle and titillating massage was gone but the rubbing seam of my bathing suit was still producing motivating sensations. "That's good," my swim coach congratulated. "Just practice the kick today. Once that becomes second nature we'll add arm movements." Auntie Helen slipped out of the pool and began patting herself with one of the big beach towels she'd brought out. Bending way forward caused her breasts to hang independent of the padded cups inside her suit. They jiggled and swayed as she stripped the water from her ankles and lower legs. The big soft looking flesh mesmerized me and I was embarrassed at the way my body was reacting. When I became conscious of how intently I was staring at my hostess' chest I looked up to her face to see if she'd noticed my inappropriate stare. The smile on her face said two things to me simultaneously. The first was that my attention had not gone unnoticed—which was embarrassing—but the second thing I read was that it was okay with her; for some reason that sent a huge thrill right through me. Auntie stood up. Without adjusting my line of sight I found myself scanning her shapely and well muscled legs. I was still half heartedly practicing the frog kick she'd just taught me and was aware of the tightness in my over worked leg muscles. 'No wonder she has such wonderful sexy legs, with all the horseback riding and the swimming... ' I reasoned which brought yesterday's massage to mind. I was reminded of the impression that I'd had of her as a little girl. She met all but one the qualifications I thought a movie star should have. Her spectacular beauty was beyond dispute. Her lifestyle and wealth befitted the image I had of the rich and famous. The only thing missing was the notoriety—the celebrity. I was already thinking that the fame part of fortune was over rated anyway. There was an element of awe in the admiration I was feeling as my Aunt Helen laid out on the lounge again. She'd resumed reading her book. I could still feel the wonderful tingle in my spanked tushy that seemed to have tentacles creeping between my legs. The playful spanking was only the second time anyone had ever slapped my ass. The first time, when mommy had done it, had been seven or eight years ago. I'd gone out of the apartment when she'd told me not to. Mom panicked and when she finally found me she was crying. I was really sorry and ashamed that I'd upset her but when she paddled my bum I got these funny pleasant feelings between my legs. I thought I was weird because the spanking was supposed to be punishment and it was like I almost enjoyed it. I hadn't thought about that day I disobeyed my mom since right after it happened. The second spanking of my life brought back the memory and the confusion. How could punishment be pleasurable, it didn't make sense. It was a contradiction. I concluded that either I was a freak or that somehow all the other things, like the horseback riding and the massages, had confused my senses so that I couldn't tell pleasure from pain anymore. To get the whole conundrum off my mind I practiced the kick as long as I could but I didn't want to get really sore again. When my muscles began to quiver with the exertion I got out and laid on the lounge beside my guardian. The afternoon passed peacefully enough. I leafed through the several magazines dreaming of the lifestyle the models were depicting. When I looked away from the glossy pages at my surroundings, I realized that I was in it; if only temporarily. Whenever I glanced at Helen I experienced a host of feelings that were too complicated for me to separate and analyze. The parts I could recognize included a deep affection more profound than I'd ever felt for anyone except my mom. That feeling seemed to come from my heart; it was deep and warm, I would later recognize it as love. At the same time there was something much closer to the surface, almost like an electric tingle whenever I looked at her. In some ways I was ashamed that those feelings were most noticeable in my breasts and between my legs. Later in the afternoon I dozed in the utter tranquility. I was taking one of my cat naps when Helen called me for dinner. The healthy imaginative meal was followed by a cuddling session on the couch watching a movie.This was one Helen had chosen and it focused on a woman who'd been wrongly convicted of murdering her boss. She was in prison—need I say more? After the show Auntie escorted me to my room, helped me undress and performed my bust development massage before kissing me goodnight and turning out the lights. We settled into a routine that was anything but boring. Most days we'd go horseback riding in the morning and return home to hang out around the pool. I was becoming a respectable rider but it was still hard on my legs. The massages helped. In the afternoon there was a swimming lesson, after dinner a movie and bedtime always included development therapy for my bust. My affection for my mother's friend grew daily as did my comfort level. I came to regard her like an older sister. The only fly in the ointment was the reaction I had to the physical contact. Two or three times a day Helen touched me for perfectly legitimate reasons. Whether it was helping me with mounting the horse, or my riding technique, massaging my sore legs, swimming lessons, helping me with trying to even up my boobs, I'd come to anticipate and even crave the physical attention. The warm feeling of pressure really low in my belly practically never went away anymore and the tingle, like electricity on my skin, would happen whenever I just thought about her touching me. Things and sensations that I'd practically never experienced before I came to stay with Auntie Helen had become the norm. The only problem with that was the incomplete feeling. I didn't understand it at the time but the buzz of sexual arousal had become chronic. |