Although my story is mostly factual, identities have been altered. I was 18 before the story began and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. For the record, I don't consider myself a writer. I'm a businessman. I don't condone incest or taboo sex. It's simply chapter one. The genesis of how, when, why, and where life took an unexpected turn in the road.
My name is Jack. I was raised in a small rural community in the middle of Florida. Mom and dad were hard working religious people who went to church every Sunday. We were Southern Baptists. As a kid, I was made aware, with no uncertainty that Hell was my destiny, should I fail to abide by the tenets of Christianity. Alcohol was forbidden, smoking tobacco was frowned upon, although dad smoked more than a pack of Camel's every week. Sex before marriage, otherwise referred to as fornication, was a monumental sin, as was adultery. There were plenty of rules but the last two, as I recall, were always the most emphasized.
It was my last year of high school, just before summer break, when a turn of events changed the plans I had, not only my summer job at dad's small welding and repair shop but even more importantly, my education. Aunt Angela, my mom's younger sister, had recently divorced her husband, Uncle Walter, and was moving back home. She bought a small house that sat on a large piece of land outside of town that was part of a big horse farm.
I remember the conversation around the dinner table that evening. The news about Aunt Angela, the revelation of her moving home, the divorce, some vague details of what happened but then the other half of the equation. Aunt Angela was going to need help with restoration of the old house and surrounding property that had been neglected for years by the previous owners and needed a lot of work. I wasn't being asked as much as being volunteered to spend the summer helping my aunt with the task.
Aunt Angela had always been my favorite relative, even though I only got to know her at family gatherings. Uncle Walter was friendly too, but there was a special chemistry between us. My sisters always complained that I always got the best Christmas gifts from Aunt Angela. Early on, she's the one who sat down with me and taught me to play chess when the others were doing puzzles and playing card games, etc. She always made me feel intellectually superior to my sisters and cousins, all girls. I was the only boy on mom's side of the family.
Uncle Walter was a math and science professor at Georgia State University in Atlanta. He was different but nice to me and I liked him. They met at FSU, where Aunt Angela broke with family tradition of attending a small private Christian college where I was enrolled that fall semester. Uncle Walter didn't always join in the celebrations with my aunt. She would always say that his family came first. He came from a well-established family with deep roots in Atlanta. My aunt was so different from Uncle Walter. She was a champion swimmer in college. After graduating from FSU, she married Walter and moved to Atlanta where she became the head coach of the swim team at GSU. He was at least ten years older, and the story goes, they met in her senior year when he was Angela's professor at FSU. They moved to Atlanta the same year.
Mom was close to her sister. They talked on the phone every week. She would say that Aunt Angela was the black sheep of the family, but never in a disparaging way. My aunt was beautiful, athletic, witty and fun. She always dressed like the models on the cover of Vogue, my mother's favorite magazine. I must confess that I would keep older copies hidden in my bedroom closet and pull them out at night. When I reached puberty, or in other words, when I started masturbating, I fantasized about those women.
The cover models and celebrities had nothing on Aunt Angela. She had a body made for sin. Not only gorgeous but Ange had the most amazing breasts. She didn't dress modestly like mom or the women in our church. Not at all, Angela knew she was attractive and didn't hesitate to show off her perfect curves, her small waist, her legs, her tight round ass, and above all else, her beautiful big tits. All noticed and greatly appreciated by young Jack. For whatever reason, when Aunt Angela showed up at our door a few weeks after the news she was coming, I noticed how petite she was. I'm guessing now it's because I'd grown almost four inches in my last year of high school. I was six feet tall, and Angela was barely five feet. The first thing she said was, oh my god, you're so tall now. Standing there in short shorts and halter top, with her familiar big smile.
Lucky me, Aunt Angela was my new boss for the summer. The first thing we all did was drive out to see her house. I drove my dad's pickup truck while mom went with Angela in her new mustang convertible. On the way, dad was giving me the rundown of what he wanted me to accomplish in the next four months. He'd already been there to look around and like he said when we got there, the house was in decent shape, but everything needed painting, inside and out. Dad already mowed the lawn once, but the landscaping was a mess. It needed hedges and plants removed and replaced. The shed needed a new roof. That would be my first experience doing carpentry work.
We all went back to our house for dinner, sitting around the table and talking about the new project. Mom was excited to have her sister back home. They said nothing about Uncle Walter, except that he was leaving Atlanta for a new job, teaching at another university in Chicago. No mention as to why. That's when Aunt Angela brought up the education thing. Mom and Dad were set on me attending Trinity Baptist in Jacksonville, where my sister was in her sophomore year. Two of my cousins had already graduated from Trinity. Other kids from our church were going there too.
Angela was questioning the decision. Trinity was so small, expensive and had little to offer with respect to sports (I was a good athlete) a future in business, etc. Then she made the proposal that if I helped her all summer with the house, she would pay for my full ride at FSU. All four years, no cost to my parents. I remember the look on dad's face, like he just won the lottery, while mom looked like her sister had just betrayed her. There was a lot of heated discussion in our house for the next few days. School wasn't out for summer yet, but I was already busy that weekend at the house with my aunt. She didn't seem to care about the turmoil she'd set in motion over her offer to pay for my education at her alma mater, FSU.
Aunt Angela was anxious to hear all about my thoughts. Was I as keen on going to FSU as she was? She told me how much fun she had, the big campus, meeting so many new friends, the huge athletic program, her sorority experience, on and on as we sat on some old patio furniture outside by the pool. That was the other thing that caught my attention the first time I saw the house. It had a large in-ground pool and diving board on the deep end. Dad was showing me how the pump and filter had to be serviced. During the week, he went with Aunt Angela to buy new equipment to clean and vacuum the pool. He drove me out to the house on Saturday morning and showed me what to do before going back to work.
Aunt Angela was a smoker, like dad only more so. She asked if I smoked and offered me a cigarette. When I said I smoked with the guys at some high school parties, but mom didn't approve when she smelled it on my clothes, she laughed and said, well then you should make sure you don't smell like cigarette smoke when you leave. She offered again and I took one. Another thing, when it was just the two of us, she wanted me to call her Ange, like her friends did. She handed me her lighter and we had our first smoke together.
When she asked if I was a good swimmer, I told her I could swim but never took lessons. That was something she said she would teach me. I knew she was state champion at Florida State and then it became her career at GSU. She said she would show me some pictures when she got all her boxes unpacked. It was my first full day spent working and talking with Ange.
She wasn't spoiled or lazy, Ange was busy all day in the house when I was outside working in the yard, but she loved stopping often for cigarettes and a drink. After coming outside with sandwiches and lemonade for lunch, her afternoon regimen had frequent cigarette breaks and a pitcher of water and ice for me, vodka tonic on ice, with a slice of lime for her. I must have had three cigarettes on the first day. It was a long first day. Ange drove me home after picking up some hamburgers and fries at the MacDonalds' in town. She was amazing.
But then there's the other thing, the chemistry, the way she looked, the way she was with me, the way we hit it off on the first day. I couldn't stop admiring her but not just her gorgeous looks or the way she made me feel important, I was aroused by the way she touched me. It didn't go unnoticed when she would often touch my arm or the back of my shoulder when helping her move boxes around the house. When Ange hugged me before getting into her car to take me home, thanking me for accepting the job. I could still feel the sensation of her breasts pressing against my chest when I lay there in bed that night, thinking about the day. I knew it was wrong to think about her like that.