When I spoke with my Aunt Cassie by phone a few weeks ago, I told her I would drive to Asheville to help celebrate her fifty-fourth birthday and said I would take her to whatever she wanted to celebrate. I assumed she would suggest we have a birthday dinner at one of her favorite restaurants, but instead, she said the best birthday gift I could give her was to drive with her on a cross-country road trip -- a suggestion I enthusiastically agreed to. I knew from hearing her voice that I would do anything to be close to her again after all these years apart.
I approached the gated, adult-only enclave where she resided two hours late and signed in with the obese gate guard who was suspicious of anyone driving a sports car into this elderly community. He checked the guest list on the computer screen and carefully examined my Virginia driver's license before allowing me through. I drove to her house and parked my "looks like new" 2003 Porsche 911 in the front circular driveway. She told me on that phone that she lived in a bungalow, but it was, in reality, a large, split-level house. She wisely spent her half of my father's estate. I walked to the front door and saw it was slightly ajar with a stickum note attached to the glass saying, 'Jake, I'm in the atrium in the rear of the house. Come on in.' I pushed open the door and called, "Cassie, are you home?"
Not hearing an answer, I entered the foyer. I could hear a splashing sound from the rear of the house, where I assumed the atrium would be. As I walked into the glass-enclosed room, I saw her swimming laps in the indoor pool, oblivious to my presence. I removed my jacket and sat near the pool, watching her take lap after lap until she completed however many reps she planned -- only then did she notice me watching.
"Jake, how long have you been stalking me?" she said as she climbed out of the pool and walked towards me. I had not seen Cassie in more than twenty-nine years (except at my father's funeral ten years ago from my hidden vantage point about two hundred yards away). For a woman her age, even for a woman half her age, her body was smoking. During one of our phone conversations, she said she swam laps daily and practiced yoga thrice weekly. She filled out her bikini nicely with her large tits, which I guessed had been surgically enhanced, and her well-rounded ass. The many freckles I remembered covering her face, boobs, and belly had somewhat diminished with age, but she was as beautiful now as she was as an eighteen-year-old who won second runner-up in the Miss Texas Pageant. I've always believed that only her diminutive stature kept her from winning the crown.
"Cassie, you shouldn't be parading around in a glass house wearing no more than a skimpy flesh-colored bikini... Every geezer in the neighborhood probably has a telescope trained on you right now."
"Most men around here can't get it up anymore, so what's the harm in giving them a little thrill? Come here and give your old aunt some sugar."
I hugged her, getting my tee shirt wet. Then, she kissed me lightly on the lips.
"Cassie, you're only two years older than me and certainly don't look old. On the other hand, all fifty-two of my years show..."
"Jake, neither of us looks our age. We're both still young and have much living ahead of us.... Hug your aunt some more. You have no idea how much I've missed you all these years. We have much catching up to do."
She grabbed me tightly and pulled our bodies close together. I could not believe it! I was experiencing a major boner -- I had been using Viagra for more than four years to get a full stiffie when I fucked, but just a tight clinch from Cassie did the trick. My dick was harder now than the times I used the blue pill. If she felt my dick against her belly, she didn't let on; instead, she continued to hold me tightly in her grasp.
We separated. She put on a sheer white hoodie. I turned away and looked out the glass panel towards her backyard, hoping she wouldn't notice the protrusion in my loose-fitting pants. She asked if I wanted water with lemon, which I accepted. Then, in deference to my sobriety, she asked, "Is it all right with you if I drink a glass of wine?"
"Sure, Cassie, I don't mind at all."
I lay in bed in her guest bedroom later that night and could not get the mental picture of Cassie in her bikini out of my head. I rubbed my dick, and it gradually became fully erect. It was stiffer and straighter than it had been in years. I wanked-off to my mental image of Cassie's image, both as she appeared today and as I remembered her so many years ago.
Two days later, we were traveling on I-85 southwest toward Atlanta. My dick stirred a little when Cassie first got into the car wearing tight-fitting yoga pants and a tank top which brought attention to her beautiful tits; however, this boner was nothing like those many, many years ago when I was a horny kid, and my dick stayed almost permanently rigid when I was around Cassie. As I drove, we discussed the scenery, the traffic, and where to find the next rest stop, but not a word about our almost three-decade-long estrangement.
When we reached Atlanta, we headed west on I-20, arriving at the B&B in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, mid-afternoon. Our one-bedroom, two-bed cabin overlooked the Black Warrior River. After checking into our cabin, Cassie took a few minutes to brush her beautiful red tresses. She donned her swimsuit, dived into the small pool, and commenced swimming laps. I changed into shorts and a tank top and sat in a nearby lounge chair, sipping my ginger ale. A few more guests checked in, and several of us guys sat together talking sports. Cassie finished her swim, slipped on her light blue crochet cover-up, and accepted a glass of wine from our hosts. The men sitting near me couldn't take their eyes off Cassie and all assumed she and I were a couple.
A short time later, I told Cassie I wanted to attend a meeting I located online near the university campus and asked her to attend with me.
"Hi, I'm Jake; I'm an alcoholic."
The eighteen strangers sitting in the circle murmured, "Hi Jake." Cassie sat quietly in the circle.
"I'm fifty-two years old. I started drinking beer heavily at sixteen and discovered weed in college. Despite my dependency, I functioned as an attorney for many years. Eventually, I let my addictions take over my life -- three failed marriages, numerous failed relationships, loss of my position as a partner in a prestigious law firm and disbarment. I've been sober for eleven years, two months and five days.
"I am traveling through Tuscaloosa on a cross-county motor trip with my aunt Cassandra to visit her twin daughters on the West Coast.
"Part of my reason for this trip is to make amends to my aunt for what I did many years ago, which resulted in a twenty-nine-year estrangement. I was twenty-three years old and was home for the summer following my second year of law school. Aunt Cassie, then twenty-five years old and divorced with two children, was living at home with her parents... my grandparents raised us together after my mother died when I was two years old. Being close in age and being raised together, Cassie and I were more like brother and sister than aunt and nephew. My dad was in the diplomatic corps, so I only saw him a few times over my life, and those few times when he was home, he paid almost no attention to me."
I hesitated momentarily and entertained misgivings about using this venue to apologize to Cassie. I scanned the crowd -- the eighteen strangers looked solemn while Cassie sat stoically as I continued my narrative.
