Aunt lucy

After lunch, empty plates of pesto and salad remained on the table, the smell of fresh basil and melted Parmesan still filling the air. Julie rose with a satisfied sigh, lifted Smith off her feet—like a light doll stuffed with pasta—and turned to Lucy.

“Lucy, take care of **little auntie** for a minute, I’m going to the bathroom!”

Lucy flashed her usual heavy smile, held out her arms. Julie dropped Smith into Lucy’s lap, like a soft ball, and headed for Angela’s bathroom.

Smith struggled, his body stiffening: “No! I’m a human! I don’t want to!”

But Lucy, the **real auntie**, with her 178cm tall and the strong arms of a professional photographer, hugged Smith tightly. Her thighs were beneath Smith’s hips, **hard and warm**, like two iron pillars covered by Lucy’s black leather jacket. She pulled Smith onto her lap, her back to her chest, her legs locked with one hand.

“Shhh, little man… Aunt Lucy knows what you want.”

Lucy leaned down, **the soft bite of her teeth** on Smith’s cheek, then **a warm, wet kiss** on his lips, flavored with her own berry smoothie. Smith let out a strangled scream, hot tears welling up in his eyes.

“Stop! Please!” Smith tried to escape, slamming his hands into Lucy's chest, kicking his legs, but Lucy calmed him down with a **gentle open-handed slap** on Smith's buttocks – not painful, just **firm control**, the sound of **soft skin whipping against jeans**.

Smith's cries rose, **broken sobs**, tears rolling down her cheeks, hot and salty. Angela laughed from across the room, her laugh **loud and mischievous**, like Christmas bells: "Wow, Lucy! You really are an **iron mother**!"

Lucy, unmindful, took off her black cotton shirt, pulled off her black cotton socks – smelling of **light sweat from the day of the photo shoot**, a little salt and shoe leather – and rubbed the warm, damp socks against Smith's face. **The rough cotton fabric of the sock** stretched over the skin of Smith's cheeks and nose, **warm and sticky**, as if she were wiping his face with a living handkerchief. Smith gasped, his sobs grew louder, he pulled his head back, but Lucy squeezed the sock tighter.

"Now smell it, little man… it's Auntie's smell."

Then, Lucy pulled the sock aside, **another kiss** on Smith's wet forehead, and with **another soft slap** on Smith's thigh, she chuckled.

Smith was in Lucy's arms, crying and listless, just waiting for Julie to return...

But Lucy, with the **firm touch of her hands** on Smith's waist, her **controlled caress**, seemed to say: *"You're safe here too... in my way."*

The toilet door opened, the sound of Julie's footsteps came.