Step aunt lara

On a rainy fall morning in Montana, large raindrops beat like tears from the sky on the windowpanes, and the smell of damp earth drifted in from their small garden. Five days after Katie had left on her 20-day mission—a research project deep in the remote woods—James, a 170-foot-tall, 130-pound boy, was now in Lara’s care. Katie’s 27-year-old sister, Lara, had her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders like a golden waterfall, her pale, radiant skin gleaming in the faint morning light. She had come from the city to be James’ “temporary mom,” just as Katie had asked.

James was still lying in their large bed, naked under the wool blanket, as always. Lara stood beside the bed in her long silk nightgown—which reached her knees and showed off her body like a soft sculpture. The sound of rain on the roof was like a lullaby. “Good morning, little auntie,” he whispered, gently pulling back the blanket. James rubbed his eyes, his thin body visible in the gray morning light, his small, delicate penis tucked under his belly, like a closed petal. Lara smiled, no trace of judgment; only the kindness she had inherited from Katie.

She pulled James into her arms, pressing her cold skin against his warmth. “Come, it’s a baronial day, you need to stay warm.” James rested his head on Lara’s chest, his hair smelling of vanilla and rain. Lara carried him into the bathroom, filled the tub with warm water, and added a few drops of lavender essential oil. James sat on the edge of the tub, his legs dangling like a child waiting to play. Lara was unhurried; she gently wrapped the towel around her shoulders, then washed her body with a soft washcloth. She started at his neck, worked her way down, tickled between his toes, making James laugh. When she reached his tiny penis, she touched it with just her fingertips, like stroking a butterfly. “Cute little auntie,” she said, and placed a kiss on his forehead.

After the bath, Lara got James ready for fall: a loose sweatshirt with little bears, short velvet shorts that showed off his legs, and wool socks that reached up to his knees. She herself put on dark jeans and a white turtleneck—as always, “grown up” so James could stay “little.” In the kitchen, James sat in his high chair, his legs dangling. Lara made him oatmeal with apple slices and cinnamon, put the spoon to his mouth, and said, “Open your mouth, the raindrops are dancing.” James ate and Lara put her hand on his bare knee, ran her finger over the soft skin of his thigh.

After breakfast, the rain got heavier. Lara closed the window to keep out the warm autumn scent, the scent of autumn filling the room, then she sat James on the couch, wrapped the soft blanket around him. She sat next to him, picked up Katie's book of autumn stories - the ones James loved. James rested his head on Lara's thigh, his blond hair falling over his face. Lara combed his messy hair with her fingers, reached down, caressed his waist. James's shorts rode up a little, his small penis showing through the fabric. Lara just smiled, reached under the blanket and twirled her hand around it with her fingertips - not to provoke, just to care. "Auntie's always here," she whispered.