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She was about 5 feet 3 inches and very cuddly, and just a little bit older than my Mum. I used to love watching her working at the sink, or her climbing the stairs. I used to imagine what she looked like in just her undies and I'd go home and masturbate, thinking about Auntie Val all the time. I'd got into the habit of going round there on Saturday afternoons to watch football. She'd make me a coffee and the relationship seemed destined to remain that way -- until that is I had some trouble with my Mum at home and started telling her about it. The ice was broken and I found myself touching her legs and biting her ears. That was all it took. I remember pushing my hand up her skirt, waiting to see if she'd tell me to stop, but of course she didn't. She got up from the sofa, but not because she wanted me to stop but instead to remove her skirt and blouse. She was in stockings and suspenders - I'd never seen anything so beautiful before. "C'mon, I want you to take something down in the. ’ When we ran out of ideas we got books and found things that were new. We never thought to share with anyone else. Were we too scared of losing the other, of getting an incurable disease or was there some other reason? The hell if I knew, it was just the way things were. Oh, we looked at others, there were days it might have been advisable to wear a bib for all the drool that ran off our chins. After 4 years of school, 2 years dating, 3 years living together and being married for 5 there was nothing new to try, I guess. It was Thursday morning, time to head to work, Oh Joy. Another day of the same ol’ shit. We passed each other in the hall and kept going. Half way there I turned my car to the south and kept driving. I called in at the last minute and said I was sick. Yep, sick of the entire mess I call my life. I only stopped twice before lunch, once to get coffee, the other to get rid of the same coffee. I pulled into a little roadside diner and ordered lunch. I parked at the.
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