The following morning dawned with an air as if the previous night's escapades were nothing but a fever dream. Breakfast passed with amiable chatter, both Taylor and Bella wearing masks of normalcy as Aunt MJ presided over the meal with her usual mixture of love and sternness.
Once the meal was finished, Taylor excused himself to begin his day’s labor on the farm—a routine he knew well by now, each task grounding him back to reality far removed from the complexities that had infiltrated seemingly every other aspect of his stay.
Bella, meanwhile, was tasked with household chores which today included laundry—a mundane job that soon turned intriguing when she stumbled upon a curious stain on MJ's bed sheets. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected it closer—then realization dawned, the images from yesterday's confessions lighting up her thoughts vividly: Taylor's embarrassed admission, Aunt MJ’s calm demeanor amidst unspoken tension… It had to be Taylor’s doing; there was no denying what this discovery meant.
Armed with this new ammunition for teasing—or perhaps leverage—she sought out her cousin amidst his work. With sheets in hand and a wicked gleam in her eye, Bella approached him confidently, already plotting how best to employ this newfound knowledge.
"Hey, big guy,” she called out to get his attention even before she reached where he worked diligently, unaware of the impending conversation that would surely change the course of their day yet again.
Taylor looked up, wiping the sweat from his brow as he saw Bella approaching. Her expression was playful but edged with a knowing look—one that instantly set off alarm bells in his mind.
“Guess what I found while doing laundry?” Bella began, her tone sing-song as she revealed the stained sheet for him to see. “It seems someone enjoyed one of their private sessions more than they let on.”
The color drained from Taylor's face followed swiftly by a hot rush to his cheeks—there it was, out in the open: undeniable proof of what had happened during that first soothing lotion application with Aunt MJ.
He opened his mouth to respond, trying to muster any defense or denial—but nothing came out. The evidence was right there in Bella’s hands and her grin only widened at his stammering silence.
“So,” she drawled tauntingly, swinging the sheet lightly as if weighing her next words carefully, “What’s this worth to you? To keep me quiet about our little secret?” Her eyes danced with mischief and something else, a leverage she knew all too well could shift their interaction towards unexplored territories…
Bella took a moment, reveling in the power she wielded over Taylor with her newfound knowledge. Then, with a grin that spelled trouble for Taylor, she laid out her terms.
“Alright, here’s what I want,” Bella started confidently. “First off, you’re going to tidy up my room; it's been a mess lately. And after that, give me a proper foot rub—I've spent all week doing chores and they’re killing me.”
Taylor opened his mouth to interject as she paused thoughtfully before adding her final condition.
“And,” Bella continued with an impish twinkle in her eye, “you'll owe me one dare—a surprise for when I decide to cash in." The unspoken sexual charge hung between them, thick as fog, despite being left unsaid.
“That's too much!” Taylor protested immediately. “You're taking advantage of the situation.”
Bella’s expression turned steely then—her playful demeanor replaced by something more stern as she retorted sharply, “Either that or maybe I'll just tell all my friends about your little accident. Imagine the talks around town.”
Taylor knew he was trapped; Bella held all the cards and wasn't afraid to play them. With great reluctance and unease simmering within him at what that 'dare' might entail down the line—he nodded slowly in acquiescence.
“Alright,” Taylor sighed heavily, the sense of defeat emanating from him. “I'll start on your tasks tomorrow since it's Saturday and we won't have the usual chores.”
Bella nodded, satisfied by his commitment as she folded her arms across her chest. “Good choice,” she said, a half-smirk playing on her lips. “Remember, I expect my room to be spotless and that foot rub to be thorough. And as for the dare…” She let the words hang teasingly in the air—a silent promise of future mischief.
Taylor just shook his head—wondering what he had gotten himself into—and watched Bella saunter away with a bounce in her step, pleased with the arrangement they'd struck up.
For now, he was off the hook regarding the stain but at what cost? Tomorrow's labor under Bella’s watchful eye would certainly add a twist to their complex summer dynamic…
Taylor spent the remainder of his day absorbed in his chores, each task helping him to temporarily forget the promises he'd made and the potential embarrassment they could bring. However, with the weight of Bella's hold over him gradually lifting as he worked, a new dilemma soon presented itself.
It happened late in the afternoon when Taylor was fixing a section of the fence by the far pasture. The job required hammering in new posts—a routine repair he’d done countless times before. This time though, as fate would have it, an unfortunate swing of the hammer glanced off its target and struck him painfully between his legs.
Crumpling to his knees, Taylor’s hands shot to protect his injured groin while waves of nausea swept over him. Gritting his teeth against sharp throbs emanating from where steel had met flesh unprepared for such a brutal greeting—he realized immediately that this wasn't something minor enough to brush off or handle alone.
Gathering what little strength remained among the swirling dizziness threatening to overwhelm his senses, Taylor hobbled back towards the house seeking assistance there, knowing well who could best provide the medical attention he needed.
Aunt MJ found him doubled over on the porch—her expression shifting swiftly from concern to action upon seeing the state that her nephew resided within in that current moment, which interrupted the daily routines settling upon the household.
Without hesitation, she helped Taylor into the house, guiding him toward the kitchen where the light was better to examine the extent of the injury he had incurred during his evening chores.
MJ instructed Taylor with unwavering calmness that belied the urgency the situation demanded: “Remove your clothes—I need to see how bad it is.”
Compliance was the only option; thus, he stood bare before her eyes once again. With a gentle yet professional touch akin to a skilled physician rather than a family matriarch—MJ inspected the swollen area methodically, ensuring a thorough evaluation was performed.
Under MJ's discerning touch, Taylor tried to brace himself against the waves of discomfort and strange conflicting sensations. Her fingers, knowing and deliberate, palpated every inch of his tender flesh—her attentiveness paramount above all else.
“Tell me if you feel any sharp pain,” MJ instructed softly yet firmly as she pressed gently along one side of his testicles, her fingertips expertly probing for signs of serious injury beneath the surface.
A soft grunt escaped Taylor's lips as he flinched slightly under her touch—not just from the hurt but also from a sense of awkwardness that seemed to ebb with each professional motion she made—replaced by an unintended response from his body, which slowly started betraying him again despite the less-than-ideal circumstances.
MJ continued her examination unfazed, moving onto his penis next; she held it carefully between her forefinger and thumb—lifting it to inspect from all angles. Her experienced eyes scanned every inch, taking note of any variations or possible concerns. She applied gentle pressure along the shaft, meticulously tracing its contours for any hidden injury that could compromise his well-being. Her knowledge and expertise enabled her to discern between harmless bruises and potential dangers that required immediate attention and care.
The clinical nature of her assessment did little to soothe the turmoil within Taylor as he felt stirrings that he fervently wished would cease—at least until they were far removed from such an intimate inspection. But there was no stopping nature's call even in this moment of being clinically examined—each careful palpitation sent unfamiliar shivers through nerves that were already on high alert.
MJ's other hand ventured downward, her fingertips grazing the soft skin of his scrotum. With a delicate yet firm touch, she gently cupped and caressed his testicles, feeling for any irregularities or signs of discomfort. Her experienced fingers explored every crevice, rolling them in her palm to assess their texture and size.
MJ noticed the change as Taylor's member began to respond involuntarily, growing within her grasp. Her brows knit together in a mix of professional concern and palpable relief at the indication that his functionality wasn't compromised. However, she noticed it hadn't reached full hardness—a sign that there was still discomfort suppressing his body's natural response.
“Seems like everything is mostly working as it should,” MJ said calmly, though her observation was laced with a clinical scrutiny. “But you're not getting completely hard—which could just be due to the pain.”
With one last thorough inspection ensuring she hadn’t missed any potential injuries, MJ finally drew back, giving Taylor some much-needed space.
“I don't think there’s serious damage,” she concluded, wiping her hands on a nearby towel before meeting his eyes directly. “But we need to keep an eye on this.”
She prescribed him rest for the remainder of the day while also advising him to use ice and heat intermittently to manage swelling and aid recovery. “And,” she added in no uncertain terms, “come see me tonight for a follow-up inspection—just to make sure everything is progressing properly.”
Taylor nodded silently grateful for Aunt MJ’s care yet mortified at how their familial bond had stretched into such private territory under medical necessity.
With MJ's instruction ringing in his ears, Taylor retreated to the sanctuary of his own room. The day's work was forgotten as he focused on tending to his injury—a bruise to both body and ego.
He alternated between ice packs and warm compresses, each application a stark reminder of the morning’s misadventure. The discomfort was persistent, an unwelcome companion that pulsed with each heartbeat. He lay there in bed mostly naked, left only with his thoughts which kept straying back to the intimate examination—how Aunt MJ's hands felt on him, carefully professional yet unavoidably personal.
Taylor tried not to think about it too much, but occasionally his mind would betray him—a flash of arousal amidst the pain reminding him that he was still very much an eighteen-year-old man despite the less-than-ideal circumstances.
Dinner came and went; Taylor excused himself early, citing the need for rest whilst inwardly dreading yet longing for the upcoming examination promised at nightfall, when the house quieted down. Finally, the time came for Taylor to make his way back towards his aunt’s room for the mandated follow-up appointment.
Taylor stepped into MJ's room, the air held a charged stillness—the kind that precedes a storm or follows a confession. His aunt sat on her bed, waiting for him, her demeanor a blend of maternal concern and clinical detachment.
“How are you feeling now?” she asked first and foremost, her voice marked with sincere concern.
“I'm okay,” Taylor replied, though 'okay' was not entirely truthful. “Still hurts but… it's manageable.”
MJ nodded understandingly, indicating for him to proceed as before. “We need to check your progress,” she said evenly. “Please undress and lay down and let’s take a look.”
With practiced resignation akin to undressing for the doctor rather than his aunt, Taylor removed his clothing until he stood before her completely exposed under the soft light of her bedside lamp—his vulnerability laid bare once more amidst familiar surroundings made foreign by a new context.
MJ didn't waste any time; her hands returned to their evaluative task from earlier in the day with equal parts precision and gentleness—a necessary contradiction to ease both the physical and psychological discomfort present between them.
She began her inspection by gently palpating around his groin, ensuring that no new swelling had occurred since the previous examination. Satisfied with her findings, MJ's attention shifted back to his flaccid penis. With a gentle yet firm grip, she held it in her hand, feeling its softness against her skin. Her fingers moved slowly and deliberately, gliding up and down along the length of his shaft, palpitating and carefully monitoring for any changes or responses from the tissue and skin.
It responded much like earlier—not quite reaching full mast due to lingering pain, an indication that the injury sustained indeed took its toll despite outward appearances suggesting otherwise…
“This is what concerns me, you're not quite reaching your full potential,” MJ observed as she continued her assessment. Taylor could see the careful avoidance of concern in her eyes; it was all clinical, but there was an undoubted undercurrent of worry.
She paused for a moment before continuing with measured reassurance. “It might just be the lingering pain that's preventing a complete response," she speculated. Her words held both optimism and a desire for further investigation.
“I think some comfort from breastfeeding might help distract from the discomfort and allow your body to react more naturally,” MJ proposed confidently, leaving little room for protest or doubt. Her tone carried an air of certainty—firmly convinced that this unconventional method could yield positive results.
Her suggestion caught Taylor off guard as he drew in a sharp breath at the unexpected direction they were headed towards. Taylor felt torn between confusion and eagerness as he considered his aunt's proposition. A part of him understood the logic behind it while another part hesitated due to the complex emotions entangled within their familial relation.
Obediently, Taylor positioned himself beside MJ as she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the familiar and enticing sight of her large breasts. Memories of seeking solace against them in moments long gone by flooded his mind. With a mix of hesitant anticipation and instinctual desire, he nestled against MJ's side, his head finding its rightful place by her breast - a place that had provided him solace during times of emotional need throughout his youth.
Her hand gently cradled the back of his head, guiding him closer to her nipple. As Taylor took it between his lips, he felt an immediate response from MJ's body. The sweet sensation of warm milk filled his mouth almost instantly, serving as a comforting contrast to the throbbing pain below.
Taylor suckled earnestly, drawing upon both physical nourishment and emotional comfort with each rhythmic motion. As he focused on this intimate act between aunt and nephew, MJ watched him closely with a mixture of maternal concern and professional curiosity. Her words carried both tender reassurance and a genuine desire to gauge his well-being.
