My sister Evie is 61 years old. That makes me 64. Uggh. Evie runs a clothing shop with her best friend, Karen. They both live a couple of hours from me. Not far, but we Evie and I don't see one another often enough.
But we talk on the phone, sometimes, and write long letters to one another. We were, like, best friends, when we were in high school and college, despite our age difference. We look pretty much alike: heavy-bottomed, small-breasted. Evie says "too big on the bottom, too small on the top." She keeps her gray hair cropped short. Mine is long. Gray, but long. Hanging down to my waist, usually in a braided plait. People tell me I should cut it, but I like it long, even if washing and drying and braiding is a pain, sometimes.
Anyway, because we stay in touch, I know Evie's had an active time, these past couple of years. I don't hear the details, but I get the impression that she and her friend Karen are really close, like "special" close. Now, Evie hasn't ever been married. She dates some, but nobody particular for very long. And Karen's married, to a fellow named David. They all live in the same town as Evie, and Karen's mother, June. They all sound a little touchy-feely to me, but I'm not a judger. To each their own, I say.
Evie called me a couple of weeks ago. Said that my son, Jay, and his wife, Amy, were coming for a visit. A visit to Evie! Not to me. Seems untoward. A boy ought to come see his own mother before he visits with his maiden aunt. I'm a widow, myself. Married an older gentleman -- a tall, thin fellow, quite a different physique from my own. Jay takes after him. I've met Amy, Jay's wife, a couple of times (at their wedding, and one holiday season). She looks more like me and Evie. Big-bottomed. Thick-thighed. A peasant body, I call it.
Something else about Jay: I know he likes big-bottomed women. Not just his wife, now. But I caught him once, home from college, rubbing himself with a pair of my panties. He was so embarrassed, and I didn't know what to do. I yelled at him, told him not to think about me that way. But I couldn't get the image of him with my panties out of my mind. It made me a little itchy, down there. And I know, from talking with Evie, that he started using her panties that way, too. Poor Amy, I used to think. Until I got Evie's call.
Seems like Jay likes Amy because she looks like Evie, and me. Well, not only that. But partly. Evie says he's confessed to fantasizing about her, while he's doing things with Amy. She said I ought to come visit, and sort things out with my boy. Jay and Amy arrived yesterday, and spent the evening with Evie. I'm guessing there was some sort of hanky-panky, based on how Evie was anticipating the visit. Today we're meeting at Evie's for a barbecue, with Jay and Amy, and Evie's friend Karen, and her husband, David. Like I said. I'm not a judger, but things sound like they might get interesting, especially if we start drinking early. It could be exciting.
We did start drinking early.
I arrived at Evie's place at 5:00 PM, the time I was told to arrive. Everyone else was there already.
"Mom!" said Jay, giving me a careful hug. Since I caught him with my panties, all those years ago, he's been careful touching me. That makes me feel sad.
"Mother-Brenda!" said Amy, giving me a big hug. A much closer, snugglier hug than I got from my son.
"Just call me Mom, sweetie," I said, squeezing her back.
"Hey, Brenda! So good to see you again," said Karen, who I've met a time or two, along with her husband, David. OK-looking man. They both gave me quick hugs.
"It's good to see you all, too," I replied. "Looks like you got a head start on me?" I asked, looking at the glasses in their hands.
"I've got you covered," said David, handing me a glass of pink wine. Nice man.
"It's not sweet, is it?" I asked.
"No, it's a dry rose from the south of France," said David.
"Sit down, Mom! Relax!" said Jay, guiding me to a patio chair.
Jay is tall and thin, like his Daddy. He wears glasses, looks a little bookish. He and Amy are both librarians, both in their 40s, and they only got married last year. Late bloomers. Also, I know -- because how could a mother not know? -- that Jay was pretty well-equipped, down there. Heck, I'd seen him working himself with my panties. A few years ago, granted, but I'm guessing he's still got that thing. Something a woman could really hang on to.
Evie sat down in a chair next to me and gave my thigh a squeeze.
"Hi, Sis," she said. "I'm really happy you're here."
"You have a glow about you," I observed. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing you wouldn't do, if you had the chance, is my guess," said Evie, sipping her wine.
"Ha!" I responded. "I think you have a pretty good idea what I'd do if I had the chance," I replied.
"So, we're all good!" said Evie. Leaving me pondering, a bit.
Well, we drank that dry pink wine, and another bottle of that same wine. Then we had a couple of bottles of New Mexico (New Mexico!?) champagne. All that before we ate the Chinese Chicken Salad Evie had prepared us for dinner. Four bottles, five people, we were pretty loose. And then David opened a couple of bottles of red, both Lake County Cabernet Sauvignons.
"Red Hills," said David, pouring.
"Whatever," I thought, taking a good pull on the tasty red wine.
As we finished eating the salad, Evie, Karen, and Amy converged in the kitchen, taking in left-overs, dishes, and stuff. Evie came back outside, leaving Karen and Amy inside.
"David? Karen is looking for you inside," said Evie, walking back to where Jay and I were left sitting at the table, once David got up.
"OK," said David. "You all OK for wine?"
"Take this one in for them," said Evie, handing him one partial bottle. "We'll keep the other."
David went into the house with the partial bottle, weaving a little, I thought as he went. But I'm not a judger.
"Are they going to be a while?" asked Jay. "Should I go help?"
"They're fine, Jay," said Evie. "I thought we might take a spa tub while we wait for them to finish up."
"A spa tub?" asked Jay. "Is it already going? I don't have a suit."
"It's always going," said Evie. "That's part of the charm -- it's always ready to go. And the suit? I could find you something, maybe, or you could go in your underwear, I guess."
"What are you doing, Evie?" I asked.
"I'm going 'au naturale' myself," said Evie, slurring the French a little. She stood up and walked to the tub, removing its top. I could see the steam rising, and the dim blue light from the tub lights.
"But, what about Mom?" asked Jay, standing.
"Brenda is a big girl and can do as she likes!" said my little sister, my big bottomed little sister. She pulled her summer dress off over her head. She was naked underneath. No bra (well, we don't really need bras, with our small breasts, except to disguise our hard nipples), no panties. And she was just as hairy down there as I remembered.
Evie clambered into the pool, her big backside wiggling as she climbed in.
"Ahhh," said Evie. "Heaven."
"OK, I'm on my way," said Jay. "Mom? Are you OK here?"
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked.
Evie called from the spa tub, "Whatever you like, Brenda. Jay and I will be in the tub."
"OK, Mom," said Jay. "I'm getting in."
My son walked to the tub, and disrobed. All the way. He reminded me of his father, and he was still well-equipped, down there. And that equipment looked like it was hardening as he climbed into the tub.
"Well, shit," I said to myself. I got up and walked over to the steamy spa tub. Evie had just pushed the button to start the jets, so I couldn't see much.
"OK, you two," I said. "This old fat mama is coming in, too."
"Mom?" asked Jay, startled. "Do you have a suit?"
"Naked is good enough for my sister and my son, so it's by-God good enough for me," I said. I unfastened by blue jeans, and slid them off. Then off came my plaid button-up shirt, and my padded bra.
"No comments about mama's nipples," I said, peeling off my panties. "And no comments about my big butt or hairy pussy." I climbed into the tub and sat down, splitting the space between Evie and Jay.
"Wow, Mom," said Jay.
"You look good, Brenda," said Evie.
"I look pretty much like you," I replied. "And pretty much like your wife, Amy, oh-son-of-mine."
Jay laughed lightly. "You're all really attractive, Mom. Amy, and Evie, and you."
"Did I tell you I talked to Jay about the panty thing, Brenda?" asked Evie.
"Auntie Evie!" gasped Jay.
"Yeah, I know about that," I said.
"Well, Amy knows about it, too," said Evie.
"Oh, my God, Auntie Evie!" said Jay. "You've had too much to drink."
"Probably just enough, actually," said Evie.
"What is this, true confessions?" I asked.
"Are you worried?" asked Evie.
"I'm not a judger," I replied. "I'm not worried about family."
"I'm getting out," said Jay. But he didn't move.
"Stay, sweetie," I said. "We haven't been this close in ages."
"I don't mean to put you on the spot, Jay," said Evie.