Shortly after the door slammed, Aunt Jane pulled a chair up beside mine and slid into it. She put her arm around my shoulders and pulled my head close to hers, nuzzling me in a way that was more sympathetic than affectionate. I continued to avoid her eyes and said nothing, but she broke the silence. "Honey," she spoke in a near whisper, "there's no need to be embarrassed about last night. What happened was perfectly natural, and I'm glad I was able to help you."I said nothing in reply, and she squeezed me closer and asked, "Did you like it?" I nodded a very meek but affirmative reply. "Good," she said. I want you to tell me whenever you would like me to help you." She paused quietly for more than minute, then whispered, "Would you like me to help you now?"Though I can't say for certain how I reacted or that I reacted, she just might have perceived a very subtle nod of my head. In any event, she slipped her hand into my lap and began caressing my cock through the fabric of my shorts.. Then, in an uncharacteristic gesture she turned to me with her hands on her hips and almost yelled, ‘That’s almost 30 fucking milliliters!’ The sudden verbal eruption was followed, with mock sympathy, by ‘Not bad for a guy who’s been on the ‘overstressed list.” We continued to walk as she tried to calm down, ‘Can’t you just enjoy experiences for themselves? Why do you have to count everything?’ ‘Well,’ I tried to rally a defense, ‘right now, I’m just amazed at how many times I’ve come in the past 24 hours.’ Then I added, hoping to calm her sudden mini-rage, ‘I mean, it’s because you’re so sexy and so beautiful. And, of course, it’s because you’re so damn hot! No one’s ever turned me on the way you do.’ Wow! Even I couldn’t believe my feeble attempt at reconciliation. But what about her? Was this really my perfect woman? I’d never seen her have a bout of PMS, maybe this was her first. Women! Go figure. We walked in silence after she shook her head, giving me one of those looks. ‘Men!’.
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