Aunt MJ's Farm - Day 1 - A Return To My Youth
Date: 11/4/2023,
Categories:
Incest Fantasy,
Author: discreetwritings
... there, each pulsating throb beneath echoed a drumbeat of deeper awareness, an unmistakable sign that things had shifted irrevocably in the wake of MJ's unyielding hand. This strange blend of respect and burgeoning desire danced on the edge where childhood ended and another realm began, a place neither fully understood but were inexorably stepping toward.
With one final slap ringing out to punctuate the end of their corrective session, MJ helped Taylor up right onto unsteady legs that betrayed recent discipline. “Stand,” she commanded him, as she pulled her sundress back down over her thighs, with an authority that laced her words with something heavy and compelling. Absorbing in the sight of his bare vulnerability, she continued subtly, “Turn around, slowly, let me admire my handy work.”
Taylor stood there, humiliation and something darker washing over him in waves as he hesitated. But ultimately, he couldn't deny her order. As he rotated before her scrutinizing gaze, Taylor felt the intensity of her gaze increase; his arousal remained evident—a mix of youthful virility and taboo excitement.
MJ's eyes were meticulous in their inspection, not just viewing the reddened skin but also noting silently, with an inner smile, the fullness between his thighs that signaled more than just physical maturity. A complex mix of pride and disquiet churned within her; internally praising what nature had bestowed upon him, a visual testament to his transition from boyhood and ...
... confliction on how this may shift the dynamic between them and challenge her role in guiding his discipline.
Then her hand brushed against his bottom, a touch far lighter than the spanks delivered minutes prior yet carrying weight that made him inhale sharply. The soft strokes over reddened cheeks held both care and inspection; fingers daring closer to sensitive areas, now trembling slightly—fingertips grazing flesh much like sparks teasing at dry tinder, ready to alight.
With each pass of MJ's palm, Taylor found himself shifting subtly, caught between urges to pull away from or press into the contact that fueled equal parts shame and yearning woven.
“Good,” she finally said after what seemed like an eternity to Taylor (though only moments had passed), her tone denoting satisfaction on multiple levels—he had endured his punishment well, and perhaps even impressed in other ways, unintended as they were.
The silence hung thick before MJ then broke it with those definitive instructions once more: “Now go fix that fence properly.” She gestured towards the clothing strewn on the floor, an implied permission for him to regain some semblance of dignity through attire.
After pulling up his boxers and jeans, which felt oddly foreign against sensitized skin, he left her room and picked up tools to re-attempt the task which landed him in this new strange dynamic.
With every step towards the unkempt fence, Taylor felt the sting of his disciplined flesh protest under the fabric ...