Ron Taylor - Naughty aunt Susan

I watched her go, driving that little red MG. God only knows why she'd bought something like that. It fit her image about as appropriately as a see-through blouse. But it was her money.

I went into her study, intending to pick up a few of her books for spare-time reading. Maybe I'd go up in the hills for some more tanning this afternoon, and I could look at the book while I bronzed. Jesus, there were so many, and I hadn't read more than a couple, even if she was my aunt.

That one looked interesting, the one in the corner, half-hidden behind the filing cabinet. I reached for it, dropped it, and swore vividly. The fucking book had fallen in between the shelves and the cabinet and it was gonna be a tight squeeze to get it out. I dropped to my knees and reached in to retrieve it.

In the process I touched some heavy-duty manila envelopes lying on the very bottom shelf, back out of sight. They seemed to contain books, and I pulled one out.

It was starting to discolor – no wonder! The postmark on it was 1970. San Francisco, I noted, and the return address was BEDTIME BOOKS. Bedtime Books? Why should they be sending Aunt Sue anything? Sounded like a porno firm to me. Maybe she needed some research material so she could give one of her prim, beautiful heroines a bit of sex drive. Giggle, giggle.

I was leaning to put the, envelope back where I'd gotten it, but one end was unfastened and books spilled onto the floor. I swore again, more vividly this time, and picked up the books to stuff them back inside.

O BEASTLY LUST! read the title line. By Sandra Warfield. The cover featured a painting of a half-naked girl being menaced by three brutal looking men, one of them holding a whip in his hand. What was Aunt Susan doing with this? Well, it was her business. I was putting the spilled books back into the envelope when I saw a folded letter inside. Curiosity got the best of me. I took it out, unfolded it, and began to read:

Dear Susan,

Here are the comps of "O BEASTLY." Very hot, very good. We couldn't have printed this a year or two ago, but thank God times are changing! Have you finished SLUT FOR ALL SEASONS yet? Am anxious to see it.

Take care.

Yours,

Karen Butcher, Editor.

Aunt Sue had written this book? I couldn't believe it! I studied the cover again, the girl all but naked, the men feverish with lust. I read the blurb on the back cover: HER HOT BODY DROVE MEN WILD BUT HER COLD HEART TURNED THEM OFF. UNTIL LYDIA FOUND SHAME, DEGRADATION, AND BEASTLY, BEASTLY LUST!

Well! I opened the book at random, not quite halfway through, and began to read. I finished one chapter, then put the book down in a state of shock. My eyes were big as saucers.

I had just read twenty pages of the most graphic sex imaginable. Not only had the heroine Lydia gotten fucked in the asshole by her abductors, but then she had been forced into a cage with a hairy ape, which wrestled her to the floor and fucked her with his gigantic cock. Lydia ended up loving it, and when the chapter finished, she was coming with shrieks of undiluted ecstasy while the ape shot her cunt full of his jizz.

My Aunt Susan wrote that? I couldn't believe it! Again I stared at the letter. Her name and address were at the top, it began "Dear Susan," and the book mentioned in the letter, the book she was cheered for, was the very book I held in my hand. Any court in this lovely land would convict her on that much evidence. Could a niece be blamed for assuming?

But Aunt Sue? This was a pornographic novel, if I'd ever seen one. A lady getting fucked by a gorilla and learning to love it? X-rated, baby, X-rated!

I looked into the book once more. A few chapters further on, [missing text]. Now Lydia was strapped down on a tabletop. Vibrating dildoes were inserted in her ass and cunt – apparently the gorilla hadn't mined her snatch after all – and a huge, gross, [missing text]. The lady was squatting atop Lydia's face. Jello-quivery thighs, a cunt hairy, almost hidden in the folds of fat, its slice smelling of piss – and Lydia was slurping away while James, Ron, and Ted stood on the sidelines watching and enjoying.

I wondered how it all turned out, but much more important in my mind was the question, how in the name of slit did Aunt Sue come to write this book? She got embarrassed when I asked her if she was living with a guy. She seemed a bit upset to find that I'd quit wearing pajamas to bed. If I'd ever seen a prude, a prim, proper prude, she was IT. My hands were trembling as I stuffed the books and the letter back into the envelope. No fucking wonder she didn't have this little treasure up on the shelf with her Gothics and nurse stories. If any of this stuff seeped into her haunted castle and love in the hospital corridor books…

Then were more envelopes down there, at least a dozen. All the ones I could get to were return-addressed Bedtime Books, and all of them seemed to contain several paperbacks. The postmarks were 1970 and 1971, which must have been her sex phase. I didn't have to look inside the envelopes. I knew what I'd find, and the prospect scared me nearly as much as the first sight of that horny ape scared Lydia.

What was the score with my auntie? How many more secrets, did she have stashed away? I felt as if I'd been spying on her. It was none of my business. If she'd wanted any of us to know about those books, she'd have put them right up there on the shelf with the others. So why was I snooping around and digging them out?

I heard her horn tooting outside. She was back from town with the groceries. I grabbed a couple of mysterious castle books from a shelf and went out to meet her. Aunt Sue came up from the car with her arms full of grocery sacks and I hurried to help like a good little niece, but as I followed her up the steps to the front porch, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of a woman she really was.

On the one hand she seemed outraged when I brought up a subject that touched even lightly on sex, and she seemed honestly outraged. But on the other hand she was capable of writing O BEASTLY LUST. Not to mention SLUT FOR ALL SEASONS and who knew what else? Were there two Susans? Did she have a secret life that she didn't wish to share with outsiders? It was none of my business, speaking morally, but I've never been much on morals. I go where my instincts lead me, and my instincts were screaming FIND OUT WHAT MAKES HER TICK!

The rest of Sunday passed placidly. Aunt Sue wanted to touch up the chapter she'd worked on yesterday, and I went into the backyard for a little sunning – this time with my bikini on, since her office window faced the spot where I was lying. Later we collaborated on dinner, then moved to the front porch for iced tea and talking. Finally we retreated to the living room, after the sun went down, and watched a little TV.

Aunt Sue went to bed after the eleven o'clock news but I sat up waiting for the late movie, an old Bogart flick. It wasn't one of his biggies, just a pre-stardom job with Bogie as a supporting villain. No wonder I didn't remember the title. I poured the last of the wine we'd began drinking into my glass, snacked up the rest of the cheese we'd been munching, and slouched in my chair trying to follow the rather draggy plot.

It wasn't worth following. I slumped a little more, stretching my legs, licking the last wine drops from my lips. The room was dark and quiet, save for the TV set and its flickering black and white picture. Aunt Sue was probably asleep by now. I felt as if I were totally alone.

Maybe. I unbuttoned my blouse, left it hanging open for a few minutes, then removed it entirely. I like to be naked. Of course, I don't get to do it much at home, except in my room, that with the family situation I live in, but when I get out on my own, I don't intend to wear clothes at all in private. Unless, of course, Mama and Daddy are coming by for a visit. Any other callers will have to take pot luck.