He crept out of his cupboard nervously hand covering his front. Petunia noticed it immediately.
Petunia's eyes widened, not in shock or horror but something else, something Harry had never seen before. "What's the matter, boy?" she asked, her voice eerily calm. Harry's heart pounded as he realized the situation.
"It's nothing," he mumbled, trying to make his way to the stairs without drawing more attention. But Petunia stepped in front of him, blocking his escape route. She had a peculiar glint in her eye, curiosity mixed with something he couldn't quite place. "Let me see," she demanded, her tone firm and commanding. Harry felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead.
Reluctantly, Harry uncovered himself. His aunt's gaze was unwavering, inspecting him as if he were a specimen under a microscope. Her expression remained neutral, which somehow made the whole thing even more unsettling. She leaned in closer, examining him, and for a moment, Harry thought she might say something, do something, but she just nodded to herself, "Drop your trousers and underwear."
He obeyed, his cheeks burning red as he revealed his erection.
Petunia's eyebrows shot up, but she said nothing. Instead, she walked over to the couch, gesturing for him to follow. She sat down and patted the cushion next to her, her eyes never leaving his exposed crotch. Harry's mind raced with confusion and fear as he approached.
"Now, Harry," she began, her voice still calm, "you're going through changes. It's nothing to be ashamed of, but it's something we need to talk about." Her hand reached out and lightly brushed his thigh, sending a jolt through his body. "You see, your... situation," she said, her gaze flicking back to his erection, "it's perfectly natural for a boy your age."
Her fingers trailed closer to his manhood, and he could feel the heat of her touch through his skin. Harry's body responded involuntarily, his penis twitching at her proximity. She took it in her hand, stroking it gently. He gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, and his face contorted in a mix of pleasure and embarrassment.
"It's okay," she whispered, "just relax." Her other hand reached out and cupped his cheek, turning his face towards hers. He could smell her perfume, feel her breath against his skin. "It's nothing to be afraid of," she assured him, her eyes searching his for any sign of resistance.
But Harry was too overwhelmed by the sensation to resist. He had never felt anything like this before, and he didn't know how to react. Her hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, her thumb caressing the sensitive area beneath the head of his penis. His hips began to move on their own, pushing into her touch.
Petunia leaned in, her eyes never leaving his face, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Good boy," she murmured, her voice thick with something that sounded almost like affection. Harry's breath hitched, and he felt himself getting closer and closer to something he didn't quite understand.
"Aunt Petunia...I'm-I'm scared..."
Her hand didn't stop moving, her grip on his penis firm but gentle. "There's nothing to be scared of," she said, her voice soothing, almost maternal. "You're just growing up, Harry. And I'm here to help you through it."
Her hand grew more insistent, and Harry couldn't help but moan. He felt his body responding to her in ways he had never before experienced. He looked at her, his eyes wide and questioning. The hand on his cheek moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Her eyes searched his, looking for any signs of discomfort, but all she found was the raw, unbridled need that was building inside him.
Petunia's touch grew more deliberate as she watched Harry's reactions. Her thumb traced the veins along his shaft while her other hand began to gently squeeze and massage his testicles. Harry's breaths grew shallower and faster, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into her touch. She could feel his heart racing beneath her hand on his neck, a pulse point that matched the rhythm of her strokes.
Her lips hovered near his ear, her breath hot and sweet as she whispered, "You're doing so well, Harry. Just let it happen. It's all a part of growing up." Her words were a gentle coax, a blend of comfort and control that he found himself craving. The room was thick with tension, the only sounds their soft gasps and the rustle of fabric as she stroked him.
The sensation grew more intense, his body tightening like a coil ready to spring. Harry's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and desire, unsure of what was happening but unable to resist the feeling building in his loins. He could feel himself getting closer to something, a precipice he had only heard about in whispers from other boys at school.
And then it happened. With a strangled cry, Harry's body convulsed, and a warm wetness spurted out, coating his aunt's hand. He felt a moment of pure, blinding pleasure before the reality of what he'd just done crashed down on him. His eyes snapped open, and he stared at Petunia in shock. She held his gaze, her expression unreadable.
"Good boy," she said again, her voice softer this time, almost gentle. "You did good." She used her thumb to wipe the last drops of cum from his penis before releasing him. Harry's legs wobbled, and he had to sit down on the couch next to her, his body feeling both heavy and light at the same time.
Petunia took a deep breath, her hand moving to rest on his knee. "Now, Harry," she began, her voice a little shaky, "this is a big secret between us, okay?" Harry nodded, his mind still reeling. "You can't tell anyone about this. Ever."
He nodded again, not trusting his voice. The weight of her words sank in, and he felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He didn't know what had just happened, but he knew it was something he wasn't supposed to talk about. He looked at his aunt, trying to read her expression, but she had turned away to clean her hand with a tissue, her back rigid.
The silence stretched on, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Harry didn't know what to say, what to do. He felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he never had before. He looked down at his still-hard penis, a silent testament to what had transpired, and felt a strange mix of fear and excitement.
Petunia finally turned to him, her eyes meeting his. "This is our little secret," she repeated, her voice firm. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," Harry murmured, his voice small and lost. "I understand."
The moment hung in the air, charged with an unspoken promise, a silent agreement. Harry knew his life had changed in some fundamental way, but he wasn't sure if it was for better or worse. He just knew that things would never be the same again.
And as the tension slowly dissipated, Petunia's hand returned to his leg, her touch now comforting and familiar. She pulled him closer, and he leaned into her embrace, feeling the warmth of her body against his. They sat there, neither speaking, as the clock ticked away the moments, each one a step further into a world Harry had never known existed.
The next day, life at the Dursleys' house went on as if nothing had changed. But every time Harry saw his aunt, he felt that same strange mix of emotions—part fear, part excitement. He knew their secret lurked beneath the surface, waiting to be explored again. And though he was scared, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to know more, to experience more of those strange, wonderful sensations she had given him.