Aunt Smiley's Steamy Werebear Love Triangle

Lydia Smiley, known as Aunt Smiley to anyone who knew her, was not the type for romance. Ever since her beau Burt was eaten by that sea dragon, she’d decided men were more effort than they were worth.

You spent all of that time training them to take their muddy shoes off before coming inside, keeping their mouth closed when they burped, and how to touch you when you wanted to be touched, that she honestly could not see herself starting the process all over again.

No, men were out of the equation. What was in the equation? Gardening, certainly, but that didn’t pay the bills. So Aunt Smiley had answered the call of the Czar and signed up to man (or woman as the case may be) a remote wilderness station in the contested lands to the west.

A wagon arrived every month with supplies. A man rode it in and she had to host him for a night, and that was enough of that, for her liking.

So she spent her days tending to her garden, maintaining the station, and keeping an eye out for enemy scouts, but mostly she just enjoyed the solitude.

But that routine ended the day the werebear arrived.

She was cleaning beetles from the cucumbers near dusk when she noticed him, seated in the woods, watching her with curiosity. A big black furry beast, honey or sap smeared atrociously over half of his head. His giant tongue absentmindedly licking at the fringes of the mess.

“Filthy animal,” she said to herself.

She didn’t think much of the bear that evening, but he was back the next day, around the same time. She caught him watching as she emerged from the river, as naked as her birthday.

Her breath caught at the sight of the massive black bear, partially hidden by a little bramble. Her first instinct was to cover her breasts but the thought was absurd and she let her arms fall by her sides. The stupid beast knew no difference of clothed or unclothed. But he did seem to take a particular interest in her, his eyes riveted as she toweled off, sitting up taller to get a better view when she crouched down to collect her skirts.

She turned away from him to dress, checking over her shoulder, because it’s never wise to turn your back on a bear.

Her breasts hidden from view, the bear seemed a little agitated. He rocked back and forth and she wondered if he would stand. With her underskirt on now, she decided to skip the rest of her attire. She wadded it up in her arms and rushed back to the cabin, the white slip clinging to her damp body.

That night she dreamed of the bear, that long tongue slapping about his face, desperately seeking the sticky honey spread into his fur. He was closer now and he pressed his big furry head against her. She wasn’t wearing any clothes, even though a moment ago she was sure she’d been dressed. The fur felt luxurious against her naked skin, nestled in between her breasts.

Honey spread to her, sticking to her skin. The bear shifted and now he was licking her. She couldn’t see his face, as his big wet tongue gently but hungrily lapped against her stomach. Gradually he worked his way upward until he was licking the insides of her breasts and then her nipples.

Aunt Smiley gasped.

“Naughty animal!”

But she didn’t resist. She lay back in the grass under a warm summer sun. The bear stood over her now, tickling her nipples into sharp points with his hungry tongue. Her back arched and she pushed his big fluffy head down, directing the slapping tongue down her body, down to the source of pent up tension. Aunt Smiley spread her legs.

Then she woke up with a start.

She lay in bed, a light perspiration on her forehead, her legs spread wide beneath the covers. She threw back the sheet and blankets. Her nightgown had worked its way up above her waist, revealing her from the stomach down. She straightened it out.

Such a dream was highly indecent. While her body still thrummed electrically down there, she struggled to even begin to process her thoughts. Where to begin? The trouble came from the fact that she’d been okay with being compromised by a bear. Perhaps it was best to let dreams be dreams and drive the whole thing from her head.

The next morning, she rose to draw water and set the kettle to boil. All throughout the day she caught herself checking the perimeter of the woods, for a glimpse of the bear.

The day was sweltering, and she was forced to strip to her underskirt and a broad brimmed hat, to protect her from the sun. Perhaps it was only the heat or perhaps it was something more, eating at her from within, but she found it difficult to work that day. She gave up outdoors to tend to indoor chores some time after midday and emerged later than usual to head to the river to bathe.

Ordinarily she wouldn’t bathe two days in a row, but today she felt unusually filthy. She couldn’t imagine going to bed without a wash first. Even more than the salty sweat clinging to her skin, she felt the need to scrub away the something else that had wrapped itself around her, outside and in.

As the sun eased down behind the forested mountains, she stripped naked and plunged into the lazy river. The cool water was immediately refreshing. She floated, feeling all the tension drain from her body. Above, pinkening clouds drifted over lazily.

It would be a full moon tonight and she’d have no trouble making her way back to the cabin after dark, but she thought of the bear. The prudent thing would be to head back before the sun fully set. Still, it would be lovely to float here and watch the sky change.

But Aunt Smiley was not overly sentimental and if she said heading home before dark was prudent then that was what she was going to do. She waited until the last possible moment, then dunked her head one more time and swam to shore.

On the rocky riverbank, she wrang out her hair, coursing water ran over her breasts and down her legs.

That’s when she noticed him. The bear looked shy, watching her from the cover of some willows. He sniffed the air fervently. Had the bath made her scent fainter to him?

It was peculiar how that thought brought her disappointment. Why should she care how hard it was for the bear to smell her?

Still naked and watching the darkening sky, she walked back to the cabin, her clothes folded neatly under one arm.

She could sense the bear following. He kept his distance, but he was back there, sniffing after her track.

At the cabin, she found she’d air-dried and had no need for a towel. She pulled on her nightgown and considered making dinner. But she didn’t feel hungry. She went to the window and peered out. The sun had just set. The moon was rising now, big and brilliant and beautiful.

She let out a happy, contented breath and yet something was nagging, preventing that perfect sense of relaxation that should have come after a cool bath at the end of a hot day.

Someone was standing outside.