An adult stories – The Province Ch. 03 by NervyPleat,NervyPleat Author’s Note: all characters in this story are at least eighteen years old.
X X X X
Daphne and her Mom, Cecilia, were sitting next to each other on a long bench made from white porcelain. It was kept warm by some unseen internal mechanism, which was a good thing, since their bare bottoms were resting on the surface.
“Honey, your father and I can’t afford it anymore. We have to think about retirement.” Cecilia had just explained that she wasn’t going to keep subsidizing Daphne’s rent. “Ooh, that’s nice, honey,” she said, this time to the man whose head was between her legs. He was licking at her vulva with deep, bottom-to-top strokes.
“Mom, I’d have to–” Daphne said. Just then, another man, who had his mouth attached to Daphne’s pussy, stuck his fingers in her mouth. She waited while he probed, spreading her vaginal fluids around her tongue. When he pulled them out, she resumed, “–to move miles away.”
“Well, you could– Founders! Nice!–” her mom said, interrupted by focused attention on her clit. “You could move in with Jules. She’s worried about you.”
“I don’t want to live with Jules.”
“It’s that or get a bike. Or a different job,” said Cecilia. Then the man eating her out got more serious, and she began to moan. Her daughter stared at her without expression.
“All done, ma’am,” said Cecilia’s pussy-licker, a few moments after Cecilia’s body had arched back.
“Thanks, honey,” she replied, polietly. Daphne’s man had already left, either because he wasn’t a fan of cunnilingus, or because Daphne hadn’t had any reaction when he’d been licking her, or a combination of both factors.
“Just think about it, honey?” Ceclia said, as she and her daughter stood up and pulled down their skirts. Neither were wearing panties.
X X X X
Sylvie stood up again, unable to get comfortable. ‘What is it with these chairs?’ she thought to herself. A few minutes later she sat down again; standing didn’t feel any better. She had been in the waiting room for several hours, now, and hadn’t stayed in either position for long. Her anxiety had been building for over a month now, although it only got really bad after Celeste went through to the North, after her eighteenth birthday. She wasn’t particularly worried about Celeste; no matter what happened her daughter would be able to stay in Pueblo. The same could not be said of her nephew, now also eighteen. Depending on the results of his test, there was a real chance he would have to move to another city. ‘Probably Danvers or Aurora… or maybe Springs,’ she fretted to herself.
That woman walked through first. She was wearing a gray business suit: Marcus’ test administrator. ‘I’m not sure I can handle this,’ Sylvie thought. She could smell her own sweat, which had taken on an acrid odor. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she found it hard to take a breath. The woman was smiling at her, but Sylvie didn’t know how to interpret that.
Just as Sylvie was about to faint, her nephew walked through the door. He looked like a deer in the headlights, staring wide eyed around the room until his eyes locked on his aunt, and his mouth went agape. Sylvie didn’t notice his reaction at all — she didn’t notice his new clothes, or his handsome face, or his partially-visible upper chest; her eyes locked immediately on his right wrist. When she saw the hoped-for red glow, she felt her knees go weak, as the bulk of the physical tension that had been building, for over a month, was finally let out. She put a hand on her chest and took a deep breath. ‘I hope he wants me,’ she thought; with her biggest concern out of the way this next hurdle loomed large in her mind.
Seeing his aunt had, quite literally, taken Marcus’ breath away. She was the most attractive woman he’d ever met. Yet in all the five years they’d lived together, he’d never seen her, or any other woman, in anything other than the unrevealing black-and-white dress that was the de facto female uniform on the South Side. Even when doing physical activities like hiking or bowling, she had worn the same outfit. Marcus had, of course, seen women doing water sports like swimming, kayaking, or the like, but even then, people of both genders wore baggy dry suits.
By the standards of the South Side, Sylvie was practically nude. She had on a tight, floral-print cotton crop top with a deep vee neck. The garment only partially covered her breasts. Had Marcus been closer, he would have noticed the bottom edge of her areaolea peeking out beneath the fabric. On her hips she wore a blue denim micro-miniskirt that hugged her generous curves. Marcus looked up at her face and felt a warm sensation spread across his chest. Although she looked tired, with dark areas under her eyes, the lines of tension that he had seen building on her face for the last few weeks seemed to melt away in real time, as he gazed at her. Her eyes were locked on his wrist, for some reason.
“Auntie?” he said.
Sylvie snapped out of her reverie and stood up. For the first time, Marcus got a clear view of her figure: slightly narrow shoulders, heavy breasts, a waist that tapered only slightly, and wide hips. The warm feeling in his chest turned into a much hotter sensation as his heart began to pound. To his embarrassment, his penis began to stiffen, and it would have poked out of the y-front of his pants, had it not been hanging down his thigh. He hoped neither his aunt, nor Laura Stetson, would notice. Sylvie was indeed too overcome with emotion to notice that detail, just then, but the bulge forming along Marcus’ left thigh was not something the observant Mrs. Stetson was going to miss.
She had been watching the two of them like a hawk might watch two mice. The encounter had, she felt, lived up to her expectations. As a matter of course, Laura had met briefly with the aunt, once. Even then it had been clear the woman was nervous — Laura had a strong suspicion as to why — and was also, at the same time, looking forward to training her nephew with an unusual degree of anticipation. Seeing the two reunited on the North Side, and Sylvie’s palpable relief and Marcus’ undisguised adoration, Laura’s face broke out into a cat-like smile. ‘I could just eat this up with a spoon,’ she thought. ‘Granted, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve eaten from a spoon.’
“Marcus,” Laura said, adopting a formal tone that sounded like she was reading a script, “all adults in The Province are required to first undergo a sexual training regimen lasting a number of weeks. By tradition, the default trainer for a heterosexual male, such as yourself, is your mother’s closest female relative who shares the same grandmother as her. Obviously, your aunt Sylvie Jerez, nee De Laurentis, is that trainer.” Now it was Marcus’ turn to feel like he was having trouble breathing. “I am legally obliged to inform you,” Laura continued, “that you may request a different trainer from your family tree, provided they are willing, and meet certain guidelines, or if you would prefer one not related to you at all, the state will be assign one, at no charge to you.”
Marcus stared dumbfounded at the two women. Laura could see faint lines of worry on Sylvie’s face: she was still concerned about something.
“Miss, uh,” Sylvie said, then stopped.
“Stetson.”
“Miss Stetson, may I add a few words? I feel like there are some things Marcus ought to know. Of course, I am happy to be your trainer, but,” she said. At this point, Laura noticed a stricken look cross Marcus’ face.
‘He thinks she’s trying to get out of it,’ Laura thought, and her cat-like grin returned, despite her best efforts to maintain a professional mien.
“I do feel it’s only fair to tell you that, for a certain anatomical reason,” said Sylvie. She began to blush a light crimson, “I may not be the ideal trainer. You might consider Constance, you haven’t met her but she’s my cousin, and is only 24, and is quite prett–”
At this point Marcus, who, to Laura’s eyes, looked to be on the verge of tears, interrupted. “Auntie, are they forcing you to do this?” he said. His voice was quavering. Laura was having to use all of her willpower not to start laughing.
“Founders, no!” Slyvie said. “Didn’t I just say I wanted to do this?”
“Then why are you suggesting someone else?” Marcus pleaded. The edges of his eyes were building up moisture.
“I just thought–” his aunt said, but then stopped. Laura saw Sylvie blush more furiously.
Marcus didn’t wait for his aunt to continue. “I would never choose anyone but you!” he said, hotly.
‘He must be assuming Celeste isn’t eligible,’ Sylvie thought.
“Sweetie, as I said, if you are fine with my imperfections–”
Again Marcus interrupted, to Laura’s glee. “You don’t have any imperfections!” he said.
Sylvie held up her hands in a plactory gesture. “Okay, okay, Mr. Flattery. I’ll stop trying to convince you otherwise. Just no complaining later.”
“I would never!” Marcus said, red-faced and nervous, but adamant, as well.
Unable to hold back any longer, his aunt walked over to him. Laura observed the bulge in his pant leg grow larger as he took in her jiggling torso. Sylvie wrapped him in a big hug and began kissing him on the lips. She was only an inch shorter than him, so their lips lined up more-or-less naturally. Laura thought Marcus looked like a kid who’d just gotten an unexpected extra serving of pie. She cleared her throat.
“Get a room, you two,” she said. Then she said, as they looked at her with confused expressions, “That was a joke. Here, you’re in apartment 269. Hah! Good number, that! Here.” Laura handed Marcus a duffel bag, and sent the two, to her mind, delightful idiots on their way.