Punishing the Brats

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” he asked, pulling open the door for his aunt.

The diminutive woman pushed in on past him, so much shorter than him. It was easy to see what side of the family she was from.

“You took a long time to answer the door, I was starting to get worried!” she exclaimed, helping herself on in, looking around, inspecting the place like she was the cops looking for unlawful activity.

“Why are you here, Aunt Betty?” he asked again, slowly closing the door as he looked her over in her beige skirt and jacket. She looked like she’d just come from her real estate job.

“Your parents have been worried sick,” she said, stepping out and looking into the living room before peering back at him. “They’ve been calling you for days without answer, and you’ve not been checking in like you were supposed to. So they called me over.”

Zach felt ready to kick himself. They were supposed to check in with their parents every day, to make sure things were fine. He’d been avoiding it, of course, hoping that Sylvia was taking care of it so he didn’t have to. He guessed they both let that tedious task drop.

“Zach!” She said, sounding disappointed as she made her way into the living room. “You’ve got a piece of pizza here, splattered onto the coffee table!”

A leftover from Sylvia and his filthy little tryst. A discarded piece of pizza he’d had not the time to lay down even.

He ran his fingers through his blonde hair, his dark eyes intense upon the woman. He had to get rid of her, and fast.

Fuck, for all he knew, Sylvia was upstairs rubbing one out, and then their chance might be lost forever.

His chance.

“Yea, Sylvia’s a pig,” he said finally, going over to the slice and picking it back up, putting it in its box. The rest of the pizza had cooled, and he put it aside. “But we’re clearly fine. Just busy. Sylvia had her gymnastic thing, and I’ve had practice. Must’ve slipped our minds to call, but we’re fine.”

His aunt screwed up a corner of her lips and walked about the place in her heels, purse over her shoulder as she studied the place, inspected his pizza box that was all but forgotten.

“I hope you haven’t only been eating this junk,” she said, glancing back at him before heading through the kitchen. “Maybe I should stay and cook you and your sister a nice meal before I go,” she said, tapping her toes upon the flooring.

He had to hide his scowl. Play nice. Ignore the throbbing in his pants, the scent of his sister still lingering on his member. What was she doing upstairs? He strained his ears but he couldn’t hear anything. Why didn’t she come down to see who it was?

The memory of her pleasuring herself, lost to the throes of pleasure went through his mind once more. Her slim body contorting in wanton, carnal passion. He wanted to feel it against him.

Now.

“Naw, Aunt Betty. We only got it in celebration of Sylvia’s thing, since it’s Saturday and all. Seriously, we’re fine. I’ll go call my parents right away, promise.”

She took her time, contemplating her words as she tapped her toes. She looked from him, to the pizza box, then around the kitchen. Thankfully Sylvia had been cleaning up the mess of previous pizza boxes, otherwise his attempts to convince her they’d been eating responsibly would’ve all failed miserably.

Yet still… the serious looking older woman was not quite persuaded.

“Well…” she started, drawing the word out before she got to what she was going to say.

Zach knew he had to head it off, get her gone.

“Besides, you look like you’ve been workin’ today. Last thing you need to do is come here to prepare a meal, after a long day’s work, when we just bought a celebratory pizza,” he said, trying to play on that aspect.

It seemed to work, as her lips quirked up into a little half-smile.

Like he was every bit the respectful young man.

He smiled, all charm as he felt like he was really onto something. He walked towards her a few feet, shaking his head.

“It’s hard enough having to work on the weekend. Seriously, go home, relax. Maybe we can all get together next week and Sylvia can cook something up.”

It seemed to work, mostly.

“That sounds lovely,” and he could feel the but coming before she even said it, “but you shouldn’t put all those domestic responsibilities upon your sister like that. She’s an athlete too, you know Zach? Make sure you treat her with respect for that,” she said, giving him a soft-yet-stern look to make sure her point was driven home.

He mustn’t roll his eyes. He mustn’t roll his eyes. He mustn’t roll his eyes.