Lira's fingers remained loosely curled around Oswin's shaft—warm, steady, unmoving. She didn't stroke or squeeze. She simply held him, letting him feel the pulse of her palm against his most sensitive skin while her thumb rested feather-light just under the swollen head.
The contact was maddening. Every heartbeat made his cock throb against her grip, sending tiny jolts of pleasure that went nowhere.
She watched his face with quiet amusement, amber eyes half-lidded.
"You're doing so well holding still," she murmured. "Most boys your age would already be begging."
Oswin's jaw clenched. He was seconds from begging.
Lira finally released him slowly and reluctantly stepping back toward a low shelf. She returned with a large, soft square of woven cloth, still slightly damp from the steam but warm. It looked more like a blanket than a towel, thick and absorbent.
"Drying comes next," she announced cheerfully, as if they were discussing the weather. "And since you washed Auntie so nicely… we'll do this the proper way."
She draped the cloth over her own shoulders like a cape, letting it hang open in front so her naked body was framed by the fabric. Then she opened her arms.
"Come here, sweet boy. Let Auntie dry you properly."
Oswin hesitated for half a second—brain screaming this is a trap while his body screamed walk into the trap right now.
He stepped forward.
Lira wrapped the cloth around both of them in one smooth motion, pulling him flush against her front. Her heavy breasts pressed flat against his chest, nipples dragging across his skin like hot little points. Her soft belly molded to his abs. And lower—her thighs parted just enough to let his aching cock slide between them, nestling snugly against the slick, heated crease of her sex without actually entering.
She closed her legs.
Oswin's vision whited out for a second.
The pressure was exquisite—warm, wet, enveloping. Not tight like a hand or mouth, but soft and yielding, her inner thighs gripping him gently while the slightest shift of her hips made her folds glide along his length in a slow, torturous slide.
Lira began to move.
It wasn't thrusting just a small rocking motions as she rubbed the cloth up and down his back, "drying" him. Each roll of her hips dragged her slickness along his shaft, coating him in her arousal. The cloth trapped their combined heat, turning the space between them into a humid, fragrant cocoon.
"See?" she whispered against his temple, voice husky but still infuriatingly calm. "This is how we dry each other in our house. Body to body. Skin to skin. Much more thorough."
Oswin's hands found her hips on instinct, his fingers digging into soft flesh. He didn't thrust back. He couldn't. Every muscle was locked in place, terrified that one wrong move would end this paradise too soon.
Lira hummed approvingly at his restraint.
Her movements grew a fraction bolder. She tilted her pelvis so the underside of his cock rubbed directly against her swollen clit with each pass. A soft, involuntary moan slipped from her throat—the first real crack in her composure.
"That's it," she breathed. "Just like that. Let Auntie take care of you."
She kept "drying" his shoulders, his arms, even reached around to rub the cloth down his back and over the curve of his ass—using the motion to grind herself harder against him. Her breathing grew shallower. Her thighs trembled faintly around his length.
Oswin felt the telltale tightening in his balls, the building pressure that promised release if she'd just—move—a little—faster—
Lira stopped.
Completely.
She loosened the cloth, letting cool air rush between them. His cock—glistening with her wetness—slid free with a soft, obscene sound.
Oswin made a broken noise in the back of his throat.
Lira stepped back one pace, cheeks flushed, nipples tight peaks, inner thighs shining.
She looked down at his straining, dripping erection and smiled—slow, satisfied, predatory.
"Look how clean you are now," she purred. "And how ready."
She reached out and flicked the very tip of his cock with one finger—light enough to sting, hard enough to make him jolt.
"But lessons aren't finished yet." She folded the damp cloth neatly and set it aside. "Sit on the stool again, nephew."
Oswin obeyed on shaky legs, dropping onto the low seat. His cock stood straight up between his thighs, red and angry and begging.
Lira knelt gracefully in front of him—breasts swaying heavily as she settled between his spread knees.
She didn't touch him with her hands.
Instead, she leaned forward until her breasts enveloped his shaft completely—soft, warm, pillowy flesh surrounding him from base to tip. She pressed them together with her upper arms, creating a perfect, slick channel.
Then she began to move—slowly with slides up and down, letting her nipples drag along his skin with every pass.
Oswin's head fell back. A long, shuddering groan tore from his chest.
Lira watched his face the entire time, eyes dark with hunger.
"Feel good?" she asked softly.
He could only nod, his words were gone.
"Good boy," she whispered. "Now be still… and let Auntie finish drying every last inch."
She picked up the pace just enough. Not frantic or rushed. Rather it was controlled, like she was teasing him.
Her breasts squeezed and released around him in rhythm. Pre-cum leaked steadily now, making the glide even slicker. Every upward stroke dragged the sensitive head through the valley of her cleavage; every downward one buried him completely in softness.
Oswin's hips twitched once—instinctively seeking more.
Lira immediately stopped moving.
"Ah-ah," she chided gently. "No moving. Auntie's in charge of the pace."
She waited until he forced himself still again—muscles trembling—before resuming.
Slower this time.
This was deliberately torturous.
Oswin's hands gripped the edges of the stool so hard his knuckles whitened.
"Please…" The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Lira's smile turned wicked.
"Please what, sweet boy?"
He swallowed. Pride already shattered.
"…Don't stop."
She leaned in closer—breasts pressing even tighter around him—and whispered against his lips:
"Then be a very good boy… and hold on just a little longer."
She resumed—faster now, but still controlled. Her own breathing grew ragged. A faint sheen of sweat appeared between her breasts, mixing with his pre-cum.
The wet sounds filled the hut—soft, rhythmic, obscene.
Oswin felt the edge rushing up.
Lira sensed it too.
She slowed again—just enough to keep him teetering.
"Not yet," she murmured. "Auntie wants to see how long you can last for her."
Oswin whimpered.
Lira laughed softly in an affectionate, cruel, perfect tone at the same time.
"That's it," she praised. "Such a strong boy. Hold it… just a little more…"