A Deal with the Devil Pt. 03

Babes

A most generous thank you to Duke0467 for his editing assistance on this story. Many thanks for both his patience and guiding hand.

*****

Saturday afternoon . . . 220 Miles to the north . . .

It’s the tournament championship game. The game is tense; zero, zero going into the top of the ninth. Lance is pitching a gem–eight innings thus far, allowing only two hits while striking out nine against no walks. But the other team’s pitcher has matched him goose egg for goose egg.

Now Lance is up, two on, two out, top of the ninth. Two and two count. The runners dance off of second and third. He focuses intently on the pitcher’s windup, but can still hear his Auntie’s Gwen’s shrill voice coming from the first row of the bleachers behind his team’s dugout. “Come on Lance, you can do it.”

The pitch is a mistake– a hanging curve– and Lance doesn’t miss it. He rips a vicious line drive down the line that nearly takes the diving third baseman’s glove off.

The ball bounds away into foul territory as his teammates race home. Lance chugs into second with a stand up double. He looks up into the stands finding his Aunt Gwen. She is bounding up and down screaming and clapping.

Even now he finds his eyes focusing on one thing– those gorgeous tits of her jiggling up and down under the tight tee shirt she is wearing. He gives her a smile and a little wave. He is –for the moment– a hero and in love. Nothing could be better.

The intense crush he possess for his mom’s best friend, who he affectionately calls “Aunt Gweny”, is only growing stronger with age.

Lance, bold and aggressive, feels no shame in his nightly masturbating sessions featuring, front and center, his Aunt Gwen strutting around in one of her sexy little bikinis she seemed so fond of running around in this past summer.

He stopped by their house nearly on a daily basis—half because Luke was his best friend, and half because he loved seeing his Aunt Gwen showing off in her bikinis. It was a long and hot summer indeed.(The verbs in red are apparent tense switches. You have been in present tense up to this point and I see no reason for you to be switching to past here.)

Lance takes the mound; bottom of the ninth and only three outs to go. He quickly finds himself in trouble though with the first two batter reaching base thanks to a walk and an error.

The next batter, the fastest player on the opposing team, drops down a near perfect bunt between first base and the mound. Lance races over, and in one deft motion scoops the ball up with his glove and flips it to the first baseman. It is an outstanding play and just by the barest of margins the racing batter is called out.

The runners advance to second and third with still only one out. He strikes out the next batter, and then walks the next one on a borderline three and two pitch that he desperately wanted.

The next batter up, a big kid with muscles on his muscles, is the opposing team’s best hitter and his personal nemesis as he has both of his teams hits. Lance carefully works the count to three and two before unleashing his secret weapon.

Luke has a blazing fastball and a nasty curve, but still he wanted to add a third pitch to his repertoire. All year he had been working on a change up and finally he unleashes it.

The kid swings hard about a country mile in front of the pitch. Game over. After being mobbed by his teammates he emerges from the throng to find his Aunt Gwen beaming at him.

She looks gorgeous in her short cut off blue jeans and her tight little tee shirt that only comes down about half way to her tummy showing off her well-toned abs. She is obvious not wearing a bra– as usual– as Lance’s eyes fall helplessly to her perk little nipples poking their way so invitingly against the thin cotton of her tee shirt. Her short golden blonde hair radiates in the late afternoon sun as she opens her arms expecting a hug from him.

Instead of a hug, Lance picks her up and twirls her around. She squeals in surprised delight before he nimbly sits her down on the ground, and then gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What a hero,” she gushes as they leave the field hand in hand. The team stops off at a local restaurant after the game to celebrate the victory, but Gwen, anxious to get home to Luke, wants to head home right away. Lance puts aside his celebratory feelings to conform to his aunt’s wishes as they start the long drive home.

Roughly an hour and half into the drive, a sudden violent storm overtakes them. Gwen, who had been dozing next to Lance in the front seat, suddenly comes fully awake as the rain lashes at her small car.

“Oh this is bad. My wipers suck . . . my tires . . . God they are almost bald. I was planning on replacing them but . . .” Her voices trails off as she stares out the window.

“Maybe we should stop if you don’t think its safe Aunt Gwen,” Lance tells her.

“Oh shit I really wanted to make it home to Luke him being sick and everything.”

“Yeah, but I am sure he would appreciate güvenilir bahis you making it home in one piece. Besides I am starting to get tired.”

“You wanna stop and rest?”

“Honestly, if we stop that will be it for me. I will get too relaxed and not wanna drive at all.”

Gwen sighs. “There was a sign a few miles back. Something about lodging . . . cabins maybe. Exit 107 I think. We just passed exit 108 so it’s only a little ways back.”

“OK, better play it safe. Turn around, I guess, and let’s hope they have a vacancy.”

Play it safe. What he just said rattles around in her brain, and is actually quite ironic as spending the night with Lance holed up in cabin is far from playing it safe.

They get off at exit 107 and follow the signs to Longview Motel and Cabins. Hand in hand they race through the cold rain inside to the small office. The owner at the front desk informs them he has vacancies. Two side by side rooms in the hotel will be 67.50 per room. Adding on the tax the total comes to 147 dollars and change. Cash only as the machine that processes debt and credit cards is not working.

Lance checks his wallet as Gwen checks her purse. Between them they only have only 125 dollars. The manager sighs telling him he has no cheaper rooms.

“Hey, what about cabins. The sign says you have cabins too,” Lance asks.

“Oh, yeah, out back. I only have one left though. It’s the honeymoon suite cabin. Would that be OK for you and your . . .”

“Mom . . . she is my mom,” Lance says cheerfully giving Gwen a smile.

“How much?” Gwen asks almost hoping it’s more than they have, while at the same time fervently wishing they can afford it.

“I will let you have for 125. It’s actually a bit more but I might as well get something instead of letting it sit empty.”

“Great, thanks mister,” Lance says beaming at Gwen.

“Yes that is great, really great . . . son.” Gwen replies grabbing the four twenties she has tucked away in her purse and handing them over to the manager.

The small cabin is set off by itself deep in a stand of pine trees. Lance gets the door unlocked and then catching Gwen totally off guard scoops her up in his arms.

“Hey what on Earth are you doing, son?”

“Son . . . I think I like you calling me that, Mother.”

He turns, easily ignoring her struggles, angling her body through the doorway. “So why the royal treatment,” she cries again trying not to giggle from his tomfoolery.

“Well this is the honeymoon suite so the bride should be carried across the threshold . . . Otherwise it will be bad luck for us.”

“Oh, so I suddenly went from being your mother to your wife.”

“That is right although I would settle for either!” he exclaims gracefully sitting her down on her feet. They both turn to examine their night’s lodging.

The cozy front room they are standing in has a beautiful natural wood interior featuring an old fashioned stone accented fireplace complete with a comfortable looking pure white plush rug stretched out in front of it. The room has only a single large couch along with a small bar stuck over in one corner.

Lance heads to the bar yanking the door open on the refrigerator. He pulls out a bottle of champagne holding it up for Gwen to see. “Look, a complimentary bottle of champagne. I guess we get to celebrate after all since you deprived me earlier.”

“You mean with the team at the restaurant. Yeah, well, I guess I do owe you huh.”

“Big time.”

Wandering into the single bedroom just off the living room, Gwen is hoping to find two beds. She stands there staring at the king sized four poster bed. Of course there is only one bed. It’s a honeymoon suite after all, she chides herself.

“Hoping for two beds, Aunt Gweny?”

“Yeah, maybe. I guess one of us will be sleeping on the couch.”

“Not me. I am a hero and deserve a bed fit for one.”

“Gee thanks. Make your mom slash wife. . . I forget which one I am . . . sleep on the couch.”

He turns, stroking her face with one tender finger before hitting her with his most charming smile. “Only for a little bit. I mean I might wait until you pass out drunk on the couch and then carry you into my bed.”

Gwen laughs at his smugness as they depart the bedroom. Next they explore the semi luxurious full bath, just next to the bedroom. It has a vanity, shower and a sweetly romantic two person heart shaped tub.

Next they head into the kitchen. Not much to see—gas stove and oven, small fridge and a charming little table complete with red and white checkered table cloth. In the center of the table, is a bowl of fresh fruit.

They both take turns in the shower and change out of their clothes into fresh ones. Fortunately, Gwen had the foresight to pack extra clothes for the both of them just in case. She was like that — always believing in being prepared.

The rain has calmed down to a pleasant drizzle. The constant pitter patter of rain drops on the roof is almost hypnotizing as they sit relaxing on the couch türkçe bahis next to each other. She accepts the proffered glass of champagne from Lance knowing to argue is useless. He is in a mood to celebrate and why not. He is young, handsome and a hero.

Lance stares at his auntie liking the white blouse she has changed into; liking the way its extra tight showing off her nice medium sized boobs, but even more so liking the way she has causally left a couple extra buttons undone for his viewing pleasure.

When she leans over to take her glass of champagne from him, he slyly takes a peek down her blouse liking the pretty lace maroon bra she is wearing.

He also is having a hard time keeping his eyes off her ass which is shown off nicely by her tight jeans. He marvels at how a fifty-two year old woman looks so damn fit and trim. Actually, her advanced age, instead of being a turn off, actually turns him on—greatly.

He watches her move across the room to exam the fireplace more closely wondering if somehow he might be able to seduce her tonight. His thoughts are given a bit of extra incentive when she settles back down next to him even closer than before.

Firing his opening salvo he brushes his hand along her bare arm saying quietly. “So Auntie Gwen, why don’t you ever relax when you are around me?”

“I am relaxed, Lance. Can’t you tell?”

“Not hardly.”

“Well I am,” she retorts before taking a large swallow of champagne hoping it will relax her and she won’t then be such a liar.

Gwen never has been able to relax totally around Lance. He simply reminds her too much of Michael. He looks like him, acts like him, hell even smiles, and flirts with her, like he used to, before the fucking accident took his life.

This makes Gwen nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s the guilt she feels for hiding the identity of his father from him along with her true identity of actually being his grandmother, instead of simply his best friend’s mom, his “Auntie Gwen”.

Lance, perceptive as ever, notices this line of questioning seems to be striking a chord with her. He presses on growing bolder.

“That’s it suck your champagne down and then show me something. Do something crazy and impulsive.”

“Crazy and impulsive huh, that’s not me Lance that is you. I am conservative by nature. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, that is why you need to get wild and crazy. At least for one night. Come on don’t be a stick in the mud.”

“I am not . . . a stick in the mud.” She gulps down the rest of her champagne starting to get irritated with his teasing. She never has been one to take teasing lightly and she is beginning to suspect Lance knows this about her.

“OK well prove it.”

“Sure,” she snaps back ready to prove him wrong.

“I found a deck of cards while you were in the shower.”

“I am not playing strip poker, Lance!!”

“Jeez, talk about leaping to conclusions. No not that, although that is not half bad, but of course it’s such a cliché thing to do. No I have something else in mind.”

He disappears into the kitchen after making a quick detour to refill both their glasses with fresh champagne.

Placing the deck of cards down on the table, he announces. “OK so this is a new deck. Never been open so you know I am not cheating,” He rips off the cellophane covering and starts to shuffle the cards.

He explains the rules to her as he continues to shuffle the deck. “Ace is low, king the highest. The game will be quick and simple. We both cut one card out of the deck and whoever has the higher card wins. If it’s a tie we cut again until someone wins.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“If you win I will stop teasing you for the rest of the night. I will be nice and gentlemanly and conservative acting just like you want me to be.”

“And if you win?”

“Hmm, you have to do something crazy and impulsive of my choosing?”

“No way!!”

“Why not. The game is fair.”

“Two reasons. Number one, I have never been lucky, especially at cards, and number two, I have more risk than you involved here.”

“OK fine. What if I swing the odds of winning in your favor?”

“How?”

“OK let’s see. How about this, before my cut I will remove one king, one queen, one jack and one ten from my deck.”

“Is that all. Not enough of an advantage. I told you I am unlucky.”

“I wasn’t done yet. On your cut, I will let you remove all four Aces and two of the twos. That is six low cards gone from your cut and four high cards from mine. Tell me that is not an advantage . . . Ms. Stick in the Mud.”

Gwen knows he is manipulating her with that last little jibe, but she responds to it anyway. “I . . . am . . . not . . . a . . . stick . . . in the damn mud, Lance. Now give me the stupid deck so I can remove my cards. I am going to cut and kick your ass and then you are going to have to be good the rest of the night.”

Lance hands her the deck with a smile just knowing, even with the odds against him, he shall win. He just feels it. güvenilir bahis siteleri

Gwen removes her cards and then, before she can lose her nerve, quickly cuts herself an eight of spades.

“Yeah, OK, not bad . . . an eight, but beatable,” Lance says confidently as he removes his agreed upon cards.

He guzzles his nearly full glass of champagne down before–with a grand sweep of his hand– he cuts himself the jack of diamonds.

“Shit,” Gwen says polishing off the rest of her champagne knowing whatever he has in mind for her will be done easier if she is buzzed.

“OK so what are you going to make me do Mr. Lucky?”

“Let’s see. Oh, I know. This is an oldie, but a goodie. How about you stand up, strip off your clothes and dance naked on the coffee table.”

At first, Gwen actually giggles at such an outrageous suggestion. “No way am I doing that, Lance.”

“But you lost, fair and square, Aunt Gweny. You have to.”

“No way. Pick something else.”

“Alright, what if you don’t have to dance naked. You can leave your bra and panties on.”

“Still no, hon. I mean, when you said crazy and impulsive I didn’t think you would go that far, Lance.”

“Fine, compromise then.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“You, ahh, just have to take off either your jeans or your blouse.”

“Really no, Lance.”

“Oh come on don’t be a –”

“Fine, but I get to choose. And I’m not going to stand on the coffee table and do it and I am not going to dance. I will do it just sitting here on the couch.”

“Fine, but if you aren’t going to stand on the coffee table and you get to choose whatever you take off it stays off for the rest of the night.”

Gwen thinks of arguing but she is starting to get a bit tipsy from the champagne and decides what the hell. “OK, fine. Shit you are a tough compromiser,” Gwen says starting to unbutton her blouse.

“So you are choosing to take off your blouse, Aunt Gweny.”

“Obviously.”

She wonders if he had been given the chance to pick either her jeans or her blouse to remove which one would it have been. As the last buttons of the blouse come undone, Gwen also speculates if he will like the pretty maroon bra she is wearing.

It’s the exact one Denise gave her as a gift those many long years ago. Every time she has worn it—a sum total of two times that is—something exciting has happened . . . sexually. This is the first time she put it on since that enchanted night with Michael 18 years ago.

Honestly, she was not even sure why she pulled it out of the special box she kept it in at the top of the closet, and packed it away for this trip; except maybe in the back of her mind she knew something special might happen with Lance—tonight–if she wore the Devil’s bra.

He must be reading her mind because he quickly tells her, “You know Aunt Gwen, given the choice, I would have asked you to remove your blouse also.”

“Well, I just hope you are not too disappointed with our choice then, hon,” she tells him quietly while slipping the blouse off and letting it casually fall on the couch.

“Hmm, hardly disappointed, especially considering how pretty your bra is Aunt Gweny. That is like . . . wow!”

“Well I am glad you like it. I picked it out to wear special for you tonight, of course.”

“Sarcasm, I like that. You are showing a little spunk tonight.”

“Again, glad you approve. So now what? It’s not exactly warm in this cabin you know.”

“I will get the fire going and then we can sit and cuddle. Being in my arms will warm you up immensely Auntie.”

“Oh I am sure of that Lance.”

A few minutes later the fire is roaring and after a brief argument Gwen agrees to let Lance cuddle her on the couch.

“I bet Luke never cuddles with you?” he says snuggling her even tighter against his body.

“No, he doesn’t.” She takes another large swallow of her champagne, and then allows herself to relax against him, liking the warmth of his body as he snakes an arm around her shoulder.

She is just starting to unwind when she feels his fingers dancing across her bare belly, before carefully weaving their way northward toward her chest. It feels good and scary all at once.

Scary wins out as she lifts up and swats his hands away complaining, “No playing like that, Lance.”

His reaction was wholly unexpected. “I will give you a reason to swat my hands away, Auntie Gwen.” Catching her off guard, he starts to tickle her as she falls away trying in vain to escape his hands.

Tickling has always been a real weak point of hers and he knows this. At one time, when he was quite a bit younger than he is now, they used to play many a tickle game.

“No . . . no . . . no,” she cries in between peals of laughter before rolling off the couch and hitting the floor with a heavy thud. He is on her in an instant. She is slow to defend herself thanks to the champagne as his roving hands assault her bare mid-section.

“Stop, please, Lance. I am begging you,” she wails as he looms over her. Somehow she manages get to her feet after extracting herself from his latest assault which included an ominous attack on her bra strap. She struggles to her feet slapping his hands away giggling the whole time.

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