"Wow."

Her face says it all--bold, confident, lusty, kinky. But her body says more as your eyes travel those curves, those blonde curls, and that perfect rack. Your boner sky-rockets in your pants as she leaves the doorway.

"Wow," is all you manage to say.

She sits next to you, pressing her nude figure against your clothed one. She has such self-control and arrogence it turns you on even more. "Now George Michael... I know you took those towels. I brought some in when I went into the shower this morning. Did you want to see your Aunt Lindsay naked?"

You nod. She breathlessly giggles.

"And did you some how think you were going to... Fuck your Aunt Lindsay?"

You nod, as is the only thing you seem able to do.

"This isn't Penthouse, George Michael," she says. "Guys your age don't fuck women like me."

You nod. You just nod. Her hand is now on your lap, touching and squeezing at your bulge of cock.

"Glad you understand," she says, followed by a kiss. It isn't a peck on a cheek; it's a full-blown lips-on-lips, tongue-against-tongue french kiss. She pulls away and goes over to her side of the bedroom, where she slides into some clothes and leaves the room.

And your mind explodes.