Tara was born two years after I was. Because her parents, my grandparents, were a prolific couple, they produced her late in life. The result was an aunt who is two years younger than I am.
My name is George Baxter and I'm twenty three. It seemed odd growing up with an aunt who was so young. We never called her by her name; we called her, "Aunt Sweetie Pie" because she was so cute. I had helped her all through high school and she was more like a younger sister than an aunt. As the years marched on, we got closer. I was studying for my master's degree and she was a college junior at the same school.
As luck, bad luck, would have it, the entire family fell on hard economic times. I sustained myself with a job after school, so I wasn't a financial burden on the family.
The phone rang. "Hi," I greeted.
It was my mother. "George, we have to talk. Can you come over?"
"Sure, mom, I'll be there in a jiffy." Whatever it was, it must be really important. I hopped in my car and drove to mom's house.
She greeted me at the door, something she almost never did. I conjured up visions of somebody dying or some other dire circumstance. "Tara needs your help," she said bluntly.
"What kind of help?"
"As you know, your grandparents have fallen on hard times and they can't support her education any more. Can you help her?"
"I'll do what I can. What, exactly does she need?"
"I know this is a big imposition on you, but she needs a place to live and help with food. Her tuition was paid well in advance but she can't make the rest of it without assistance."
"You want her to move in with me?"
"That seems to be the only viable alternative."
I hesitated. I thought about my girlfriends. I thought about the parties. Then I thought about Aunt Sweetie Pie. I had lusted after her for years, but never had a real opportunity to approach her. Now, it seemed, opportunity was knocking.
"Okay, but I'll have to talk to her first."
"I thought you might say that. She's waiting in the kitchen. Tara, come here," she yelped.
I sat down in the living room as Tara made her appearance. She was still the cutest little woman on earth. Short curly brown hair, blue eyes that sparkled and a mouth that was made for kissing, she was the complete package. She didn't have great big tits or a big round ass, but I didn't like big tits and asses.
She wiggled over to the sofa and sat down. "Did your mama tell you about my dilemma?"
"Yes."
"Well, what do you say? Can I come live with you?"
"Uh, yeah, when can you move in?"
"I lost my apartment. Most of my stuff is here. I can start right now, if you are sure."
"I'm sure. Bring it over."
By Saturday afternoon, she was all moved in. My house is small. I have only one bathroom and two small bedrooms.
Most women carry enough cosmetics to stock a small boutique and she was no exception. I was relegated to a small area by the sink for my shaving stuff, toothbrush and deodorant.
She was distributing the last of her knick knacks around the house. I was watching sports on my mighty 21 inch TV. When she finished, she sat on the sofa right next to me and kissed me on the cheek. "I hope you are not pissed off at me taking over your house," she said.
"Believe me; I considered this before I let you move in. Actually, I think it is kind of amusing."
"Well, it is very sweet of you to rescue me. I knew my favorite nephew would save me!" She kissed me again. "I can cook for you. Are you hungry?"
"I know you are tired from moving all your stuff. I'll just order a pizza. Do you drink beer?"
"Not much. I prefer Coke."
"So do I. Actually, I don't have any beer. I would have bought some if you had asked. I do have Coke."
