It was a weekend I had been dreading for a long time. Staying with Aunt Peg was no longer a treat for me, mainly due to her excessive drinking and grief over the death of my uncle 5 years earlier.
When I was 12 it was fine. But I was 19 now. . .a college freshman. . .a grown adult. And staying with my auntie - all alone - in her little farmhouse on the outskirts of town was akin to pissing away an entire weekend. But my mother insisted, telling me it would give her some much-needed company. Like I cared.
Aunt Peg was not unattractive by any means, but she had trouble with men because she was somewhat unrefined. Although she had pretty brown hair and eyes, she was tall (about 6-0') and big boned - which I guess intimidated a lot of men. When I was a kid I found her exotic - I loved watching her walk around the house in a v-neck T-shirt that did nothing to hide her enormous breasts that bounced from side to side when she walked. And when she reached up to get something from the cabinet, that little T-shirt would invariably ride up revealing her large, round white bottom and huge patch of brown pubic hair.
When I arrived at her house she answered the door, but something was different. The normal friendly hug and kiss on the cheek was replaced with a scowl and a deep, dark stare. I knew immediately that she had been drinking, and that it was going to be an extremely long weekend.
"Hello Eric," she barked, not even giving me the courtesy of a smile. "Come on in. You know your way around, you bastard."
"What did I do?" I asked, completely dumbfounded by her reactions.
"Well, you're a male, aren't you?" Aunt Peg screamed, knocking over a lamp in the process as her right hand waved at me. "And males are all the same. Your useless good-for-nothing uncle used me like a toilet all these years. I cooked for him. I cleaned for him. He even fucked me whenever HE wanted. Then the prick up and dies on me. But what about me? What about MY needs?"
Aunt Peg swigged down another drink from the bottle of vodka she clutched in her right hand. Judging from the mascara that stained her cheeks, I could tell she had been crying most of the day.
"And you!" Aunt Peg continued, pointing menacingly at me. "Look at you, all grown up. Your a man now, aren't you? That means you're not cute anymore. And you can fuck whenever you want to."