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Author’s Note: Please take note of this story’s category and tags, in case the subject matter might not be to your liking. Also, please start with Part 1 of the series otherwise, some of this won’t make much sense.
This is a work of fiction. The plot is fictional. The characters are fictional. It’s not real life. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental. All fictional characters in this fictional story involved in fictional sexual activities are 18+ in their completely fictional lives. If you think you recognize a real-life someone in this story, you lead a more colorful life than the author. 🙂
Lastly, and most importantly, I hope you enjoy the story!
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Mom, Aunt Clara & My Wandering Mind: Part 7
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My trip to the grocery store with Miss Swenson had me worked up. Not only had she teased me with her gorgeous body in her skimpy athletic wear, but she also kept making lewd and suggestive comments in the produce section. Indecent comments while holding a cucumber, obviously pretending it was a huge hard penis. Risqué wisecracks about tomatoes and grapefruit and melons, all overt stand-ins for a woman’s breasts.
I tried to quiet her down, but the more insistent I tried to sound the more brazen she became. And when I started sporting an erection in my thin, old running shorts that were already doing a poor job hiding my junk, well, she had a field day with that.
Before we’d even left the produce aisle, I was tenting my shorts and making a show to the other shoppers, all middle-aged women doing their mid-week, mid-morning shopping.
When we got to a regular aisle, Miss Swenson took things even further and, before I even knew it, I was putting on a near-pornographic show to several ladies who by then had made a point of following us around.
To say I was glad to be leaving the grocery would be an understatement. I was grateful things hadn’t escalated any further or I would have creamed my shorts and who knows what Miss Swenson might have done then!
The kicker, though, was our last stop in the store, to the pharmacy, where she picked up a prescription for birth control for Nadia, which Miss Swenson then made clear was with me in mind. And now we were going to visit Nadia, to surprise her at work.
“Do you need some relief before we go in?” Miss Swenson asked, looking down at my shorts.
Thankfully, my arousal level from the grocery store visit had waned and I was once again comfortable with the state of my manhood.
“No, I’m fine, Miss Swenson,” I said nervously, “But have you decided how we’re going to surprise Nadia yet?”
“Mm-hmm,” she replied without offering any further details.
“Care to clue me in?” I asked.
“Wow, Andy. Look at you! You’re becoming so confident all of the sudden! No stammering and being assertive. Good for you!”
I enjoyed the compliment, perhaps a little too much since I hopped out of the minivan without waiting to see if she was going to divulge any more information about what we’d be doing.
I’m sure she didn’t mind not having to explain anything, but as we were about to enter the mall, I remembered what I’d asked and more importantly that Miss Swenson hadn’t answered. “Hey! I asked you to clue me in and you avoided the question!”
She laughed. “I wondered if you were going to notice.”
“So? Can you give me some idea what we’re doing? Are we really just saying hi?” I could only hope it would be something as simple as that, though I suspected it wouldn’t be.
“Oh, you’re so cute. But no, we’re not just going to say Hi. Trust me, though. It’ll be more fun if you just go with it.”
Suddenly I became overwhelmingly nervous. Is she going to continue what she started at the grocery? This time, in front of Nadia? Oh, Gawd, I wish I had disappearing powers.
I broke from my thoughts and realized Miss Swenson was holding the door open, waiting for me to follow her in.
I hadn’t been to the mall since middle school–never really had any reason to–so I was slow to keep up, constantly getting distracted by bookstores, the food court, and kiosks selling the same junk I’d seen on late-night infomercials.
Growing tired of hounding me, Miss Swenson finally took my hand and dragged me along next to her like I was a child, making sure she didn’t lose me.
We entered the Fashion Planet hand in hand. Since Miss Swenson had been there before, she knew exactly where to go–which meandering pathways to avoid and which shortcuts to take.
It wasn’t until I saw Nadia, standing behind a cash register and looking so elegant and grown-up that I realized how childish I looked by comparison, holding Miss Swenson’s hand.
I yanked my hand free and instantly fell a couple of paces behind Miss Swenson before she stopped and turned back.
“Something osmaniye escort wrong, Andy?” she asked.
“No… I just… I don’t want her to see me holding your hand,” I voiced my concern. “It makes me feel like a little kid.”
“Ah, I see… Well, I suppose I should be glad you’re showing some self-confidence. I did like holding your hand, but I can see why you wouldn’t want to.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Miss Swenson,” I said sincerely.
“I won’t give you a correction for that, since I know you meant it. And I understand you not wanting to hold hands with another woman in front of your secret love interest. She might think I’m a threat, am I right?”
“Um, sure,” I muttered. If that’s what she needed to think was the reason, so be it.
“Ugh. I’ll forgive that one, too, but no more, Andy. No more ‘um’s and no more stammering, okay? You want to act confident, then do it right. I’d rather you speak a little slower than stutter or say ‘sorry’ or ‘um’ all the time. Got it? Can you do that?”
“Okay, then. Let’s just have us a little test then and see how well you’ve been progressing. I’m sure your Aunt Clara will be interested in the results. Let’s go say ‘Hi!'”
“Wait! A test?”
“Maybe not the best word, huh? Let’s call them challenges instead. Or, better yet, missions.”
“Oh, okay,” I nodded, having no idea what I was even agreeing with.
“Mom? Mom, what are you doing here ? I’ll get in trouble if I’m not working!” Nadia said angrily under her breath as we approached her sales counter, nodding subtly to her right. Next to her, looking as disinterested as a pre-teen at the opera, a prissy young woman about the same age as Nadia leaned against the counter and seemed more inclined to stare at her fingernails than work. Nadia still hadn’t even noticed me standing behind Miss Swenson yet.
“Why, we just came by to say hello,” her mom defended, acting hurt that Nadia wouldn’t want to see her.
“We? Who’s we?” Nadia asked, then tilted her upper body to the side so she could see around her mom.
“Hey,” I waved timidly, “Not trying to get you in trouble, you know?”
“Andy?!” Nadia nearly squealed and ran from behind the counter, throwing her arms around me, and completely forgetting that she might get herself in trouble. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much! What have you been up to all week? We haven’t even connected on chat at night. You know how much I love that! Why are you here with Mom? And what have you two been doing? Mom said she was helping your Mom and Aunt with some therapy or something? Is it helping? Is it scary? Do you have a job yet? What about school? Have you heard back from State? I hope you can go there with me!”
“Whoa! Hey! Slow down, Nadia,” Miss Swenson interrupted her daughter’s boundless litany of questions without taking a breath. “First of all, I see how I rate,” she joked.
“Well, I wouldn’t care if I lost my job for Andy,” she joked right back.
“Uh-huh,” her mom grumbled. “You two can catch up later and I’ll explain the therapy later, too. As to whether it’s helping, I’ll let you be the judge. But first, we don’t want you to ‘get in trouble’, so maybe you can help us.”
“Help you? With what?” Nadia asked, finally releasing me and pulling her white, short-sleeve blouse down since it had ridden up from her energetic (word?) hug. I missed the chance to see her bare midriff but quickly decided that was probably a good thing.
“Andy was just saying this morning that he’d like some new clothes,” Miss Swenson announced.
“I was?” I asked, having already forgotten I was supposed to ‘go along’ with whatever Miss Swenson did. A quick glare from Miss Swenson reminded me, though. “I mean, yeah, I did. I don’t really have any nice clothes, you know. Just workout stuff… and jeans and t-shirts. You know what I’ve got. Your mom said I need to look nicer for college.”
“And for his first date,” she tacked on, which caused me to do a double-take in her direction.
“My first date?”
“Yep,” Miss Swenson nodded smugly, “and since he doesn’t have a job yet, I told him I’d pay for an outfit, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. So, we need your help to find something stylish kids wear these days but won’t go out of style too soon, either. Will that keep you out of trouble while we visit?” Miss Swenson winked to her daughter.
“Hell, yeah, it will! I mean, I’ll be working, after all!” Nadia could barely contain her excitement.
Miss Swenson leaned over to me and whispered. “Mission number one: find a way to tell her she’s pretty.”
“W-what?” I asked quietly.
“That’s ten and you heard me. Do it or earn another correction,” she threatened.
“Come on, Andy!” Nadia chirped. “Ohmygod, I’ve been wanting to dress you up forever! I can’t believe I finally get to!” She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the men’s osmaniye escort bayan section, showing me the various mannequin’s on display to give me an idea of what was popular.
“So?” she asked, after giving me a whirlwind tour. “Anything strike your fancy?”
I glanced over at Miss Swenson, who was intentionally staying a short distance away–far enough to not be intrusive, close enough to observe and still hear every word.
“Well, to be honest, Nadia… you do,” I said slowly, gazing into her eyes as I worried what her reaction might be. “I think you’re the most… striking… thing here.” I said sincerely, “But I guess that’s not what you were asking, huh?”
Nadia blushed. “Oh my God, Andy. You’ve never said something like that to me before. Thank you.” She leaned forward and gave me a friendly peck on the cheek, then looked over at her mom and grinned widely as she started to bounce energetically in her pure white tennis shoes.
“Ahem,” her prissy coworker’s voice grumbled from a couple of display racks over–her annoying coworker. “Better not let Mister Venkel see you.”
“Oh, fuck off, Priscilla,” Nadia snapped, her beautiful girlish temperament replaced in an instant with something more menacing. “You know you’re not my boss or anything. Besides, I’m helping these paying customers pick out two full outfits. What are you doing besides constantly filing your nails?”
I’d never seen Nadia take charge like that and, though I couldn’t explain it in the least, I found it incredibly attractive.
The girl mumbled something angrily under her breath and shuffled away.
That’s right, bitch, I silently taunted her in my mind, That’s what you get for messing with my Nadia!
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Miss Swenson’s smile and her nod of approval made me blush.
“I meant what I said, Nadia. I know it sounds cheesy but I’ve always thought so. You’re always the prettiest thing in the room.. always.”
“Aww!” she mewled. “Did you hear that, Mom?” she asked, looking toward her mom for confirmation in case, perhaps, she’d merely been imagining it.
Miss Swenson nodded with a smile.
“So, other than me, anything else catch your eye?”
I immediately glanced over to Miss Swenson, then caught myself. Best not to let on about the inappropriate thoughts I’d been having about her mother being quite attractive, too. “Heck if I know, Nadia. I know nothing about this stuff. You know how I am. I’m just basic. Dressing up is jeans and a polo. The only time I wear anything else is funerals or weddings.”
Nadia chuckled. “Boy, that’s the truth. I mean with your clothes. I don’t think you’re basic, Andy.”
“Okay, so how about you pick out what you’d want to see me in?” I asked.
“You mean it?!” she started bubbling with energy again from some internal wellspring.
“Well, sure. I’m at your disposal. Consider me your own personal mannequin.”
“Oh, you might regret that, Andrew,” she teased suggestively. “You have no idea the things I’d like to see you in.”
“I…” I looked back at Miss Swenson, wondering if I should retract my offer or, at the very least, get some assistance from her.
Instead, she simply shrugged her shoulders and said, “This is on you. You’re the one who said you’d be her mannequin.”
“A lot of help you are!” I only half-joked.
“Not my fault,” Miss Swenson snickered. “Well, first things first, Nadia. Do you see what he’s wearing? I even told him we’d be going clothes shopping and he still picked out the crustiest old running shorts in his closet and a t-shirt two sizes too small. Leaves practically nothing to the imagination.”
“What? No, I didn’t…”
“Eleven,” she said flatly, quickly following up with more conversation before Nadia could ask about her counting numbers. “Andy, do these old shorts even have a liner left in them? I mean, I can practically see all your man parts in them,” she asked, already knowing the answer but pretending she didn’t.
“Miss Swenson!” I immediately covered my crotch with my hands.
Before I could object further, she lifted the side of my shorts so high that it revealed the thin liner and nearly the entirety of my naked hip. Leaning over she whispered in my ear, “Twelve,” then quietly chortled. “Now move your hands.”
“Yep, as I suspected, Nadia. He’s not wearing underwear, either. I don’t suppose your store allows customers to try things on without underwear, do they?”
Nadia smiled, mischievously. “That’s against store policy, Mom.” It seemed in that instant that Nadia had formed an alliance with her Mom–some sort of scheme that I was sure to be the victim of. “I have an idea, though. Follow me.”
Nadia grabbed my hand and pulled me along, snaking through the labyrinth of display stands until we’d arrived at maybe the only section in the store that didn’t have a huge sign above it–a relatively small escort osmaniye corner with about four aisles dedicated to men’s undergarments.
“So, we don’t have a lot to choose from for men, but I did notice a few things that intrigued me when they came in.”
Nadia notices when men’s underwear comes in? And there are certain kinds she likes? Why would she…
“What do you think of these, Mom?” she asked, seemingly not interested in my opinion. She held up a pair of trunks–square-shaped briefs with maybe a one-inch inseam. What I noticed the most, however, was the bulge design they had and the words “pouch” and “enhancing” printed in large bold letters on the attached hangtag.
“Those are nice,” Miss Swenson said, but then offered her own suggestion, holding up a light-blue high-rising bikini brief that, even when stretched out, offered very little coverage for my man-parts.
“Ooh, I like how you think, Mom, but wouldn’t he need to groomed to pull that off? If I’d know that was the case, I would’ve suggested something else.”
Groomed? I asked myself. What is that supposed to mean?
“Oh, he’s not very hairy, Nadia. It wouldn’t take much grooming at all.” Miss Swenson countered nonchalantly.
What the hell? What’s grooming?
Nadia let out a low snicker that seemed to come from her throat. “In that case, what do you think of these?” she asked and I noticed she was blushing despite the lascivious tones in her voice as she held up a bright yellow thong, nothing more than a pouch with some strings attached.
I gulped in wide-eyed wonder, not only that a respectable store like Fashion Planet would sell such a garment but that my Nadia would suggest that I’d wear something so… so… obscene.
By now, both Swenson ladies were having a lot of fun at my expense, each trying to one-up the other, until Nadia thought she’d finally sealed the victory, holding up a box with a picture on it of what looked like a small cloth bag for coins or knick-knacks with a simple drawstring to cinch it closed.
“Oh, yes, Nadia,” Miss Swenson howled in amusement. “A cock sock?! Oh, my!” she hooted barely breathing amid her cackling. “Well, I’m not sure what that goes with, Sweetie,” she argued, not wanting to lose their unspoken contest, “and it might not even stay on when worn under a garment. Especially, when its contents changes sizes?” she raised an eyebrow and winked.
“Oh, I don’t know, Mom. Wouldn’t this go with everything?” Nadia asked teasingly, smirking in my direction. “And who cares if it didn’t stay on?” she openly giggled as my face turned to beet red.
“Oh, my dear daughter, that’s precisely the point. Only one thing goes with everything and that’s nothing at all,” Miss Swenson knew she’d just won the battle and for her prize, reached behind me and pinched my bottom, making me thrust my hips (and my emerging erection) forward toward Nadia. “But then… you have a store policy about that, don’t you?”
“Ow! Do I maybe get some input here?” I tried to interject finally finding the nerve to speak. “Maybe something more modest than… nudity or… that thing?” I asked,” I pointed at the cock sock.
“Mannequins don’t pick their clothing,” Miss Swenson said flatly, almost menacingly. “Do they, Andy?” She shot me a glare that said ‘be careful what you say next’ without actually using words.
“Um… no. I guess not,”
“And that’s thirteen, Andy,” she grunted. “Stay focused.”
“Thirteen? What’s with the numbers?” Nadia asked but both her Mom and I ignored her.
Miss Swenson made her way to me and leaned in my ear. “You’re doing pretty good, Andy. Just a few minor slip-ups. But mission number two is to ask her out on a date.”
“W-what?!” I blurted, much louder than I intended.
“Fourteen, Andrew,” and she glared at me again. “Don’t you dare make me say it again.”
“Ugh, fifteen. Andy, you can do this! Remember… fake it ’til you make it. Now find a way and no more slip-ups!”
“Okay, okay,” I muttered in frustration. “I’ll do my best.” I left Miss Swenson and made my way to Nadia.
“Yeah, Andy?” she asked, looking up to me with her big beautiful gray eyes, as she grabbed one each of the trunks, bikini briefs, and thong but leaving the cock sock on the shelf.
“So, all kidding aside, if I were to, you know, go on a date with… someone… What would you want me to wear? I mean, what do you think my date would want me to wear?”
Nadia smiled knowingly. “Well… your date would probably not expect you to be wearing some g-string bikini. A bit too presumptuous. But the trunks I first picked would be appropriate without being too risque. Of course, if I was your date, I’d be happy with whatever.”
“Oh… whatever, huh? Okay… Good to know,” I said shyly, then remembered that I was supposed at least be pretending to be confident.
“So, I guess let’s get them, then,” I suggested.
“The trunks?” she asked, “Or everything?”
“Everything… of course,” I did my best to sound self-assured.
“Really, Andy?!” she asked, excitedly.
“Yeah, I mean, sure. Now that I know my date might be open to ‘whatever.'” I smiled almost cockily, though my blush surely gave me away.
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