Holidays with Auntie Joan Part 1
- 4 years ago
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Holidays With "Auntie" Joan - Part 2 free porn video
A year had passed. My first year at University had been very successful. My scholastic achievements were excellent, and my social progress was just as good. Girls at Uni seemed to have different criteria for assessing boys, to girls at school. "Footie" prowess, gift of the gab, and rugged goodlooks, were replaced by scholastic success, cute good looks, and an "appreciation for the arts". I rode this new wave of popularity carefully, but earnestly, losing my virginity pleasantly, but quite monogamously. No-one wanted to get tied down for too long, and this suited me. On the homosexual front, I became associated with a group of guys, who exploited the full gamut of group sexual enterprise, and this also suited me fine. I was far less a virgin on this side of the line. My social self-confidence had soared.
My annual holiday to Joan's was under a cloud. Although on a good scholarship, I needed extra income, so some kind of paying work was needed during the summer vacation. This need was in competition to my desire to get back to the CFNM, that I had discovered at Joan's, but had been unable to replicate back in Sydney. Eventually Joan convinced my mother, and myself more easily, that paid work was available up north, and so that is where I ended up. Ever since my final exams, I had been lusting over the possibility of being naked amongst people, anyone really, and for me to be the only one naked. I enjoyed being naked with the boys, but they had also all been naked also, and we all had other things on our minds. It wasn't the same as being the sole naked centre of attention, being admired and appreciated for being so.
Joan picked me up from the bus stop, accompanied by June, whose car it was. On arrival at the shack, we had some tea and biscuits, went through the usual polite conversation, and eventually came to the topic of Joan's artwork. All paintings of the naked me, had sold extremely quickly, realising over twice the price usually achieved for her animal and wildflower renditions. June was looking forward to more such paintings becoming available. She said that they brought good money in and of themselves, but that they had also brought more people into her shop, to browse and buy other things, and to patronise the coffee bar. "Auntie" Joan was quick to stress, that any continuation of this enterprise, was entirely at my discretion. I hoped that I had not appeared to be too keen, when I agreed, after a millisecond's thought.
Only after my complete enthusiasm became obvious, they revealed how my need to work and earn, during this holiday, would be achieved.
Firstly, Joan handed me a wad of cash, as my "entitlement" from the sale of last year's inventory. June had already taken out her commission, paying Joan the balance. This she was now sharing with me.
Secondly, a similar arrangement would be in place for this year's production, with a substantial "retainer" paid out before my return to Sydney.
Thirdly, I would be employed by June, as a waiter in her coffee shop, which had expanded in area, and patronage, since the previous year. Although the town, let's call it M, was not itself a tourist haven, it was only short drives from two coastal villages, which were expanding very quickly, as tourism destinations. And M boasted the only golf course (a good one at that), and several better shopping facilities.
My daily routine now consisted of some chores around the shack, employment at June's from ten in the morning, until aroud three in the afternoon, then posing for Joan into the evening. Not much time for beach visits. I would jog the two or three kilometres to June's and back. Because Joan's bathing facilities were extremely basic (a tub, curtained off from the rest of the room, filled with water heated by the archaic stove), I soon made the decision to shower regularly at June's shop/residence instead.
It soon became apparent that my employment at June's coffee shop, had been much anticipated by her "regulars". It was common knowledge that I had been the subject for Joan's artwork, which had been much admired by most of the townfolk. Almost everyone would comment on how natural, beautiful and sensuous her work had been. And what a gorgeous subject! It was my all-consuming desire to allow them their own viewing, in the flesh. Some of the more adventurous ladies were already hinting at this.
When showering, I began to leave the bathroom door open, hoping for a "surprise" intrusion. It was a fairly desperate act, because June lived by herself, and even though many of her rooms were open to inspect produce and handcrafts, at the time I showered, the place was virtually empty.
At last, it was June herself who ventured into the bathroom. Pretending not to have heard her, I stepped from behind the shower curtain, to present my wet, naked body, to her welcoming gaze.
"Sorry," I lied.
"My pleasure," she replied, "but not entirely mine, I expect."
I made no effort to cover up, or move away. She made no effort to avert her gaze, or move away. She explicitly made known her appreciation for what she saw, as her eyes inspected every inch of my body. I explicitly made known my delight in being so inspected, as I kept staring straight into her eyes, which occasionally met my gaze, before returning to study the front of my body. The boys back in Sydney, had suggested to me to go "brazilian", as I had very little body hair anyway, and they liked that I looked more of a virginal twink, hairless and circumcised. It had become obvious that June felt that way too.
"Turn around for me," she commanded. I felt her eyes fixated on my back, before I felt the soft touch of her hand, touching, then carressing, my bottom. After a few seconds, she took my hand, saying "I've been meaning to make a few suggestions on what you should wear in the shop." She led me from the room. "And you can put that thing away," she added, staring down at my rigid, and very proud, penis.
"I think the ladies would like to see a little more of you, if you know what I mean," she suggested as we entered her bedroom. "Here, try this on." She handed me a white tunic, a toga I guess, which I obediently, if reluctantly, stepped into. Satisfying herself that her selection met her expectations, she asked me if I had white underwear, commenting that not wearing any, might be something we might progress to. "Good, this should be your uniform, for the time being."
For the next week, I took their orders, delivered them, received payment, offered change, which the ladies frequently brushed aside. The coffee room filled up, and new chairs and tables found for the adjoining closed-in verandah. I was barefoot, dressed only in toga and underpants. The tips were mounting up. Suggestive comments were pervasive, and the occasional hand felt required to touch my hand, or brush my bottom. Without reference to June, I decided to go to the next level.
Meanwhile, back at the shack, I enjoyed my chores, naked of course, and my posing. Joan wanted to explore a new theme for this series of works, emphasising my athleticism. She downloaded images of various positions, incorporated into physical fitness routines, which I attempted to replicate. Some of these I found quite difficult to sustain, and so I was given more frequent rests. Others stimulated arousal, as I felt they displayed me in a somewhat submissive, sexual context. Joan did not seem to notice my erections on these occasions, or chose to ignore them. She made many sketches, before choosing the positions she would like to commit to canvas. She told me that a few of her class wanted to know if they could try me out as a subject. I immediately agreed, and Joan charged them a little extra for these classes. We finished with an enthusiastic class of six, four female, two male, all nearing, or at, retirement age. Every twenty minutes or so, I was given a short break, and midway through each session, we stopped for tea and biscuits. During these breaks, I mingled freely with the students, luxuriating in my continuing nakedness, being more up-front and personal. I used the excuse of being interested in the form, and detail, of their artistic efforts, but I found the age-gap, and their efforts to be nothing but pure, earnest students, very exciting.
Only on a couple of occasions, did I get to the beach, never bothering with towel, or clothes. The beach attracted a few more visitors this year, but its virtual inaccessability limited attendance to those few, who wanted to get away from the crowds at the nearby resorts. I did manage to find a couple of young gay guys, with whom I was able to enjoy myself behind a well-positioned sandhill. Females were entirely beyond reach.
The morning for me to attend to my coffee-lovers, "sans-undies", had arrived. I had put it off twice, worried about the reactions of the clientele, and my boss. The need to progress was compulsive, overcoming any residual inhibitions. I tentatively, and apprehensively, entered the room, expecting a riot. Nothing unusual took place. The rooms filled out, and even though I thought that it must be quite obvious that I was not wearing underpants, no-one let on. It was the usual rowdy, somewhat suggestive, banter - but nothing more. I could take this situation no longer. Eventually I decided to be as blatant as possible. As I left the room for the kitchen, I "accidentally" dropped some cutlery, and bent over to pick the items off the floor, lingering as I collected each item, giving the entire room a view of my naked bottom, and waiting for the inevitable reaction. The chatter dissolved into momentary silence, before the room erupted into cheering, whistling, applause and laughter. It drew June into the room to find the reason for the noise. Back in the kitchen, she endorsed my actions.
From then on, for the next week, I wore only the toga. The insinuations, the smutty suggestions, the encouragement, all went up a few notches. I gave only brief glimpses of what lay under the toga, but these glimpses were well rewarded with comment, and suggestion. June placed a sign by her coffee machine, and by the door, that entry to the rooms was for those over eighteen only. A n alternative room, and the outside of the house, were set up to cater for anyone not wanting to be in the main area, or who could not get in. June decided to change things a little, by replacing the toga with an apron, and then even a much shorter one.
Now my bottom was on perpetual view. My cock and balls were nominally covered, but hardly protected. More and more hands patted my bottom as I passed. An occasional hand reached out to lift the apron, and spy on what it was meant to cover. These actions may have been meant to embarrass me, but while I was a little uncomfortable to begin with, I soon grew to thoroughly enjoy the additional attention. An enjoyment I was unable to hide! The rooms filled up quickly most days, and stayed so until after lunch. June taught me how to keep turnover up, by returning to tables, whose occupants were there purely for the show, to ask for any new order. The ladies generally took the hint, to order, or to move along.
After a week, any pretence of modesty was totally irrelevant. From then on, until it was time to return home, my duties in the "coffee lounge", were undertaken entirely in the nude. Joan got wind of the new arrangements, and while I am sure she was not entirely impressed, she took the view that I endorsed and enjoyed the new scenario, and there being no losers, she had no reason to intervene. The clientele had changed dramatically. In the beginning, the ladies were all much older than me, at least twice my age. They all seemed to be locals, and regulars, attracted initially by the coffee, June, and the store items. As weeks passed, we began to attract "out-of-towners", sometimes including girls more my age.
While I never thought of having sex with the older generation, my reaction to the younger ones was far more arousing. I regarded the older ladies as reminiscing their own teenage years, inspired by a younger, non-threatening, ideal image of teen virility. I doubted that any would want to get into any kind of relationship with me, or me with them. This was even more the case with Joan's art students, all of whom belonged to a yet older generation. The young "tourists", coming to set eyes on this unique attraction in M, were more attractive to me physically, were less restrained in their comments and actions. They often caused me to demonstrate my arousal physically, much to their amusement, and eventually entertaining to the rest of the customers. Initially, having an erection was relatively rare, and easily hidden. Now, in my full vulnerable nudity, encouraged by teasing, flirting younger women, I was at least partially erect most of the time. To begin with, this was embarrassing enough, but became even more so, when pre-cum began to emerge from my erection. This was compounded again, by younger ones, producing a tissue for me to clean myself up, or to do so themselves. The more the embarrassment, the greater the crowd response, and the greater my own satisfaction.
June had tried to prevent photography, insisting my nudity not be exploited in the wider community. There were signs asking patrons to respect my privacy, and I am sure the older generation took heed. I heard ladies reprimand younger women, who overtly attempted photos. I am quite sure however, that many a mobile phone contains surreptitious images of my nakedness. So far, I have never seen such photos on any relevant platform.
On my last day, I collected my final weekly wage. That, together with my not insignificant tips, and Joan's student's fees, as well as my percentage from her sales of the previous year, amounted to much more than I might have earned in Sydney. As she handed me my wage in cash, June produced an envelope, which she said contained my bonus. I did not think it appropriate to open it, merely expressing gratitude for being rewarded for activity, which I would have been happy to perform for free. Back at the shack, I discovered that the bonus virtually doubled my income from the holiday.
I sat quietly with June, sipping an espresso, still naked, going back over the events of the last few weeks. She gave me some thoughts of what we might do, if I would be good enough to allow Joan the pleasure of my company the next year. As I reflected on these suggestions, my cock stiffened again. Noticing my situation, she told me it was time to reward "the little fella". She tenderly grasped my cock in one hand, drawing it towards her. Her other hand found its way to my anus, and a finger was partially inserted. Standing in front of her as she sat, I was vigorously masturbated. It was my first handjob not delivered by myself, or by a boy. Too soon, I ejaculated, voluminously. Making no effort to wipe my spunk from her face and clothes, she bid me farewell, hoping to see me next year.
Back at the shack with Joan, she managed to elicit from me, virtually everything about me holiday in M. She was happy for me to remain undressed. She wanted to understand my feelings concerning each detail, and together we analysed them. She was happy that I was happy, but occasionally she issued a mild caution, rather than a rebuke. She was very assertive about the need for me to use protection at all times, during sex. We discussed, at some length, my escapade with the boys behind the sandhill at the beach. Explanations here, were difficult, because I was somewhat confused myself. I was emotionally attracted to girls, having had a few close, tender relationships with a couple of them, and intimacy with one. Sex had been warm, loving and serious, rather than being exploitative. Sex with the boys had been raw, unemotional, even profane - but exciting and fulfilling. Regarding my last experience, June had already admitted to Joan her desire to make me cum. She was not surprised that it had happened.
"Let's keep all this from your mother. She would be apoplectic. But do come back next year, with even better grades from your studies, and we'll talk more about yourself, and your experiences."
I could afford a taxi from the shack to the bus this time. On the bus, my mind was racing - what had happened this year - what might next year bring?
Oceana
- 26.04.2020
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Holidays with Auntie Joan Part 1
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