Summer with Myra.
The sun popped its nose through the dark rain clouds causing a shaft of bright light to wash over us, it bathed the gathered crowd in warmth as the handful of dirt left my hand to clatter loudly on the polished mahogany lid.
My tears were flowing freely now and had mixed with the rain on my face causing them to be hidden. Rosie held my hand tightly as I said my last goodbyes to the woman who had loved me like her own, the woman who had helped make me the man I am today.
Rosie and I had married thirty six years previous in the chateau gardens at my aunts request, not five minutes' walk from her burial spot where we now stood. She was the last of the five sisters to be buried here on the family estate. My own mothers marble and granite headstone was not more than six feet away.
As I raised my face to bathe in the warm sunlight my mind wandered to happier times at the chateau.....
It was the hot summer of 1976, I had just finished my final exams and was looking forward to a long lazy break before starting work for my father's company. He was one of the top architects in London at the time and it was taken for granted that I would follow in his footsteps. My grades were high enough for a good Uni, not quite Ox-bridge standards but not too far off either. Dad always said,
"I never went to university and look at me now."
He wanted me to learn the ropes from the bottom up and eventually take over the reins.
My mother was of the opinion that a degree would help in later life, just in case. It caused a bit of friction between them, friction that I thought I was the cause of. It was agreed that I should take a gap-year before Uni, then take it from there.
That summer was a scorcher and I spent most of it at our local Lido, mostly dreaming of losing my virginity to one of the bevvy of beautiful girls playing in the pool in scanty bikinis. Lindsey was my dream girl but well out of my league, but that did not stop me from filling box after box of Kleenex in my room on those long hot summer nights.
We were three weeks into summer break when my mum asked if I wanted to accompany her to the chateau for the rest of summer.
The chateau was in the Bordeaux region of France, set in beautiful countryside with two huge vineyards and riding stables. Our family had money, old money from my mother's side. The estate had been in our family for generations, my aunt Myra was the custodian of the family business now as she was the eldest of a family of five sisters. She had had no children and as my mother was next in line, it would probably be passed to her and then on to me in time.
I loved Myra dearly because she was the fun sister, the rebel. She always had been the black sheep and she reveled in it. I had not seen her in a few years, probably since I was about twelve or so.
When my grandfather died she took his place at the head of her family and had to curb her wild ways a touch. She had always kept that twinkle in her eyes though so you just knew the wildness in her was just dormant, and like a wild animal it sometimes came bursting out.
Mum had an old VW camper van that our gardener had restored for her, he kitted it out with a makeshift kitchen and sleeping quarters. This was in a time before campervans became luxurious so on a scale of 1-10 it was probably more like a 3. It was freezing on our overnight stay in a little campsite just outside of Auxerre, we cuddled together to keep warm and I did my best to keep my raging hormones under control. The problem was, we had one mattress and one blanket so it was quite confined. At eighteen my cock had a mind of its own and even if she was my mother, she was still a warm, near naked woman and my poor cock was rock hard all night. At every twist and turn her ass would squash into my groin, I was starting to think she was doing it intentionally until I heard her snoring. At last it was sun-up, I had hardly slept a wink all night.
The old van did the job and we made it down to Bordeaux later that morning.
It was great to see the chateau again, I had not been here since I was a kid and had not really realised just how wonderful the estate was. We drove through the main gates and down a long shingle roadway lined with apple trees. As we got closer I saw the huge old intimidating building getting bigger and bigger. Outside in the courtyard Samuel and Bekka, the groundsman and cook were waiting for us.
"Miss Amy, it's been too long. Its lovely to see you." Bekka declared to my mother. They both hugged while Samuel smiled and Shook my hand, "Greg?" he said.
"Hi Sam, yes it's me. All grown up now."
He chuckled "So I see."
Bekka came in for a hug now too squeezing the breath from my lungs,
"My Greg, you have grown. Very handsome now too I must say." She winked as she said it.
Sam took our light luggage and led us into the foyer, leaving the heavy suitcases to his staff. Aunt Myra was standing at the top of the main entrance steps waiting for us.
It was like my mum and her had not seen each other in 20 years, they both squealed each-others names and embraced. She looked over my mums shoulder at me approvingly as they hugged.
"Surely this is not young Gregory?" she asked her sister.
"Hello Aunt Myra, please, its Greg, everyone calls me Greg now."
She had a smile that dazzled like bright sunshine and left my mother's arms to take me in hers, her eyes had that same old twinkle and she was still as gorgeous as I remembered. She smelled like a summer meadow and rubbed her cheek into mine as she kissed me full on the lips. She tasted of sweet strawberries and wine, I licked my lips dry after the kiss.
"Come, Come my darlings. Come into the parlour, Bekka did you prepare lunch for our guests?"
"Yes Madam, it is all done and waiting."
"Merci, my dear. Come Gregory, tell me all about yourself. I haven't seen you in nearly five years now!"
She looked over at my mum saying, "Amy, this one looks to be a real lady-killer, I bet he is." She turned back to me taking my chin in her hand and squeezed "I bet you are aren't you."
That twinkle she had in her eyes was captivating and it took all my willpower to turn my glance to my mother.
"Sit, sit. Wine or tea?"
"I'd kill for a cup of tea please." Mum said, "Tea for me too please aunt Myra."
"Call me Myra, less of the aunt. It makes me feel old." She replied.
She could never be mistaken for old I thought to myself, she was the most stunning 50 year old I think I had ever seen. I almost told her but thought it best to keep it in my head.
