She was different from all of my other aunts and uncles, probably because she was single and a bit on the loony side. my aunt was in her late twenties with long black hair a dark eyes. So I didn’t mind their decision and couldn’t wait to get there. They just told me that they were going on a cruise and I was to stay with Joanne for the summer. I had no idea what my parents were going through at the time. My parents were in the middle of a divorce and they decided it was best for me to stay with my aunt Joanne during those tough times. Not just the sex but the dirty little things that transpired between us before we actually had sex. I have since moved on, but I do still think about her.
If she hadn’t gotten married and moved away, the incestuous relationship with her that started that summer would probably still be going on. The best summer of my life was the one that I spent with my aunt Joanne, my mother’s sister. She looked miserable, so I asked her what was bothering her. Or it could be the constant close proximity and the availability that facilitate this attractionĪnyways, one Friday I was making dinner when my mom came home from work. Who knows what it is that sexually attracts a young boy to his mother? I suppose it might be that innate thrill of danger in flirting with something considered forbidden or taboo. The reason I describe her to you is that like any young boy entering puberty, his mother is the object of many masturbation sessions. But in my eyes, she is one of the most beautiful women in the world. she dresses in plain looking clothes, she hardly wears any make-up, she’s what you might call a “pleasantly plump” woman.
To be frank, most men would not find her attractive. I should mention that my mom was not the most physically alluring woman in the world. Little did I know that one night, I was going to help out my mom out in another very different and memorable way. I tried to help out as much as possible with everyday stuff like cooking meals, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house.
I loved my mom so much and hated to see her hurting. I remember several nights when I’d be lying in bed and could hear her cry herself to sleep. My father died about five years earlier in a work accident.Įver since, my mom had been pretty depressed, she’d never really gotten over my dad’s death.