"Hello, is anyone home?" I called as I entered my Grans home. At least, that's how I still thought about it, despite the sad feeling that I experienced when I remembered that she passed away a few months earlier.
She had been a wonderful friend to me since my earliest days and the house, a rented townhouse in a development of similar units, built in 50's England to provide adequate, controlled rent accommodation for many families. I had lived in a similar house until my parents purchased one of their own, nine years ago, about five miles away.
My Grans house was taken over by Mom's younger brother, Frank who, with his wife Laura, had lived there since their marriage. And thus it was that I continued my visits to this home of so many happy memories. During my middle school years, with the school near to her house, daily lunch breaks were spent there and we became very close. Laura was often home, having a part time job as a beautician, and when the length demanded, she'd cut my hair.
She is a very vivacious and attractive lady, generous and caring, and thinking back I can remember fantasizing about her even then. She always treated me as an adult, and since my growing interests in literature and music were similar to hers, we became good friends, with her taking me to my first symphony concert, a day of discovery that has strongly influenced my whole life. I think she looked on me as a young brother, though I, as I became older, began to think of her as something very different.
Frank is a great guy, handsome and a hard worker. He is a skilled machinist, well paid and knowing only too well that I was always in need of extra cash, often gave me a few dollars to supplement my allowance. But, as I learned later, his interests tended to beer and snooker with his friends at the local club.
My attendance at the local school continued until I was sixteen, at which time I changed to a Technical college closer to home, and at eighteen began work in an engineering company, attending the local university one day and two evenings per week. The university was located on the route back home, a short distance from my Grandma's area, so I arranged to spend that time, maybe an hour, with her during those two evenings.
I'm very glad now that I did so, for she died later that fall. Laura insisted that I continue the arrangement, and so we return to the beginning.
Receiving no reply, I looked around, checked upstairs and could hear the shower in the bathroom. Assuming that it was Laura I went down and made tea for both of us. She came down a short time later, and not knowing I was there, had not fully closed her robe. As she entered the room, I was presented with this incredible sight of my beautiful aunt in a half open robe. I had dreamed about her many times, but seeing her like this, that she was lovelier than I could imagine, and my not inconsiderable beast reacted faster than I could.
"Sorry Laura," I stammered, "I tried to let you know I was here, but you were in the shower." I tried to look away, but couldn't. She saw the confusion on my face, the obvious bulge in my pants and with what I thought, and hoped was a slight delay; she casually closed and belted her robe.
"No harm done. I came down for a cuppa and I see you have made some. Sit down and relax, I'll dry my hair and be with you in a few minutes."
She did and she was. I was glad of those few minutes, for they allowed me to sit down, and without thinking chose the sofa, and tried to arrange my clothes so that my stubborn erection was not so apparent. Indeed, my only wish at that moment was enough time to take it out and relieve myself from this quite unexpected turn on.
When Laura came in, still dressed in her robe, which was usual, she sat by me, as was usual and began to talk to me about school, her latest records, some of her more odd clients, all as we had done many times before. I could not concentrate on anything she said, being conscious only of this wildly provocative woman sitting next to me, being completely naked under her robe.
Though I had seen her many times before in the same way, this just was not the same thing, and the more I thought the harder I became as I understood that she had only just a robe between us. A little mental arithmetic: Mom is 39, so Frank is 35, which makes Laura 32.
She continued to talk about her life and I detected a note of desperation of her need to confide all the feelings and frustrations that had built up inside her. As she became more agitated her robe slipped open, revealing her smooth shapely legs up to the middle of her thighs, and she moved to close it. I held her arm and pleaded, "Please, no. I love to look at your legs and have spent many hours wondering where they went when they disappeared under your skirt."
She looked at me, seeing perhaps, for the first time, not her young nephew but a tall, strong and not unpleasing young man who was showing her more attention and affection than she had received for some time. I think it was then that she really noticed the growth in my pants that I was still trying to hide.
Looking surprised, she allowed the robe to stay open as she carried on with her narrative, saying that though married for nine years they had no children and that Frank seemed more interested in his club activities than her. He wished to go out to the pubs and ball games, while she wanted to go to the theatre and concert halls, and this evening was typical in that he had gone to meet his buddies to play in a snooker match, and would return, probably after eleven, not drunk but sleepy and content. He was still always kind and considerate, never ill-treated her, but just the reverse.
