I had watched her more than once bring my mother off with fingers, tongue and dildo. She whispered something to Ester and they both laughed.Finally Ca...la's legs made an appearance. I gulped. They seemed even more beautiful than my mother's. Her skirt was longer with a slit that showed a lot of thigh as she slid across the seat of the Mercedes and out the door. There was a flash of expanded stocking top and even a glimpse of garter clip on her dark tan sheer, sheer stockings. My already hard. You see—the person everyone called Aunt Bessie—Well, I called her Mom.The Winter of 1938Winters in the Midwest are always bitter cold. That winter we were eking out a hard-bitten existence. Fortunately, all summer long we had cut and stacked firewood down one side of our old house, so we stayed warm and cozy.In addition, my mother, like every other year, had spent the summer canning hundreds of Mason jars filled with beans, tomatoes, peaches, and other items.Anyway, on a bitter cold windy. More

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