Sometimes I wonder if the way Aunt Sunita looks at me is just maternal or something more... Her lingering touches, the way her fingers trace my arm, the way she stands too close when she’s helping me with my shirt. It’s confusing, but my cock doesn’t seem to care—it’s always the first to react. I hate how obvious it makes me, how she notices and smirks like she’s won something. And then there’s Priya, teasing me about it, calling me a ‘good boy’ while her eyes drop to my lap. Why does my body betray me like this?