It was a weird fucking day…that turned into one of the greatest experiences of my life. I can remember everything about that day, twelve years ago, when I became a man in the way that men judge manhood – and a hero in the eyes of the beautiful woman who made me a man. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. You’ll need a little background before I get to what I’m going to tell you about.
When I was fifteen, my mom’s youngest brother Frank got married. He lived about 300 miles away from the rest of the family and, as the wedding was going to be held here, we didn’t actually meet his bride until about a month before. Now, I was a typical fifteen year-old guy – basically a walking hormone. I had an image in my mind of what a beautiful woman looked like and all of the requisite fantasies – models, actresses, you know the drill. But when I went to dinner that night at the steakhouse in our small town, beauty took a new form.
Uncle Frank’s fiancé was an absolute knockout to me. I don’t know if it was just her looks. I mean, she was pretty, there was no denying that. She just wasn’t “typically” pretty. Nor did she have a model’s body. Her body was nice, but I’d seen better. I think it was her attitude, her sense of humor, and her kindness that made her attractive to me. Don’t get me wrong – physically she had a lot going for her, but she was by no means perfect. But she was perfect to me – shoulder length light brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, a pretty, open face and a great smile. When she smiled, her whole face lit up, and it affected those around her. Her breasts were nice and full, she had a slight roundness to her belly, nicely flaring hips, and a gorgeous, full ass that made me want to sink my teeth into it and never let go. She was beauty. She was Annie.
Over the next couple of years, I saw Uncle Frank and the lovely Annie quite often. She didn’t like for me or my sister to call her “Aunt Annie” – she said it made her feel old. I didn’t mind because it put a little more distance between us – it eased that taboo incest thing for my adolescent fantasies. I was painfully shy at the time, though, and could not bring myself to kiss her. I had thought that she would be able to sense my love and longing for her with a mere touch of my lips, not to mention the tenting in my pants that I was sure would happen. At a couple of family gatherings, she asked me to dance, which I was more than happy to do. Once, in the middle of a slow dance, I had to excuse myself, feigning a need to go to the bathroom. She was shocked that I would leave her on the dance floor, but I couldn’t help it. She would have plainly felt the hard-on that she created pressing against her.
In the three years they were together, I did odd jobs at their home – yard work and such. It gave me a chance, first hand, to see how terrible Uncle Frank was to her. When he drank, which was often, he felt the world owed him. He became emotionally abusive to Annie, and once even physically to me, under the guise of teaching me to box. I think I was as relieved as she was when he finally was gone. I guess we all had known it wouldn’t last. The following Saturday, much to Annie’s surprise, I showed up on her doorstep to work.