Chapter 1
I've written about my first May-December experience with my high-school English teacher twice now in different stories. I let a friend who has a big-time B&D fetish talk me into embellishing both of them with B&D things that never happened, but the stories are otherwise true. I've also mentioned my first girlfriend whose name really was Karen and who was indeed a Mormon. My teacher also happened to be a Mormon, but before our affair, she'd long ago quit attending church for a number of personal reasons. I have another fetish-interest about which I've also openly written and my profile pic should be self-explanatory. If not my stories in that genre will make that very clear. I share them because for years I've told no one about any of these things except for one very close friend from high school whose real name is Bob. I enjoy writing and when I found this site I found it very cathartic to put these experiences into written form. My personal fetishes aren't always another person's cup of tea but judging by the many favorable comments I've received in private emails, at least a few of you enjoy reading them. I've certainly enjoyed the writing part!
Following these two women, I also had a fling with another married Mormon woman almost twice my age whom I met through Karen. I plan to share that experience next. In between them, I had one of the most interesting experiences of my late teenage years. It happened with a woman who was also quite a bit older than me (and who also happened to be related to me) but whom I barely knew prior to our brief but intense affair. Her real name was Nancy and she was my parents' favorite of their many nieces in spite of the fact we rarely ever saw her. This is our story.
By way of background, I grew up literally dirt poor in a small town about 40 miles outside of Seattle, Washington. My dad worked in a saw mill and until I was ten, my mother didn't work at all. We lived in an 800sqft wooden shack on a gravel road in a small, rural, dairy-farming town. The house I grew up in and lived in until I left home had plastic for windows, no running water, and an outhouse for the first few years. After my mom went to work for minimum wage as an aide in a nursing home (which was big money to my folks), Dad made some improvements to the house which included real glass windows and indoor plumbing. We even had carpeting put in over the black shiplap Dad had brought home from the mill to close in the holes in the floor I nearly fell through the first time I went inside.
I share this to set the stage for just how dysfunctional most of my family was and to illustrate what kinds of things seemed normal to me as a child and as a young boy. Poverty was just the tip of the iceberg. The real problems came in where relationships began. My immediate family wasn't dysfunctional, but it was one of the few diamonds in my extended family's goat's ass. For instance, my mother had three brothers. Each of them serially married the same woman and had two or three children with her. She would then cheat with the next brother/husband-to-be, divorce the current husband, then start in with the next. On my dad's side, his baby sister's husband had been killed and she ended up shacking up with a guy named Woods. Together, they had a total of fifteen illegitimate children in addition to three she'd had with her late husband. No, I'm not exaggerating. Without exception, they were a disaster. Smoking at 10 or 12, drug use, alcoholism, teen pregnancy, and a life on welfare were the norm. They lived in family clumps at various times by pooling rent money but most hung out with their mother and leeched off her until she passed away. I was too young to understand the implications of any of this growing up, but as I look back it really is amazing I managed to get out of that town, get a college education, and do rather well in terms of finances and mental stability.
Along the way, I learned there were exceptions to the rule. Not everyone was nutty, kooky, or an addict. My grandmother was one of them. She was the second most pleasant discovery I made as a teenager once I learned to drive. I was amazed at how different she was from everyone else in my immediate and extended family. She was well-informed, she actually listened, and most of all, she cared. Visiting her went from a weekly chore to a much-anticipated treat.
I had two other relatives who also defied the general rule. One was a male cousin named Loren who, unlike nearly all the others, had graduated from high school and who had risen to become a foreman in a factory of some sort in Tacoma. I still remember the first time my dad took me to visit him. Their house was enormous! It had beautifully painted walls in every room and the rooms themselves were large and spacious. They even had plants all over the place which I thought was a little odd. It reminded me of a jungle. I mean, who would intentionally put plants IN the house?
The most pleasant discovery was my cousin, Nancy, who was 36 when I was 18 and started dating her. While I had two other female cousins who weren't unattractive, Nancy was the only one any guy would have considered to be pretty out of lord-only-knows-how many other cousins I had but didn't know. As I said, I rarely saw her growing up so it makes sense I hadn't really noticed her until she stopped by unexpectedly one day while I was still very much involved with my married high-school English teacher. The only thing that made it easier was that my actual, public girlfriend, Karen Moreland, was away at college which I meant I was only juggling two affairs on the side without having to worry about her catching me red-handed.
Nancy's visit happened near the end of my senior year when I was home on spring break. Spring isn't warm in western Washington. In fact, summer, such as it is, isn't really all that warm there. Let me just add that it doesn't rain nearly as much in Seattle as people think. In fact, it rains more in Atlanta than in Seattle but the myth still stubbornly persists. It is, however, dark and gray much of the year. That's because the Cascade Mountains, which cut the state in half from the Canadian border through the state of Oregon, serve to block the clouds that form off the Pacific Ocean and Puget Sound from moving further east. So the norm is to have eight or nine months of weather where dark, gray, raw days and temperatures range from 35-55 predominate. April is one of those months with temps closer to the higher end of the scale but not what anyone would call "warm."
Nancy stopped by on a whim one day to show off her first new car. Like all of us (with the exception of Loren), Nancy was poor. New cars were a rarity to say the least. She'd managed to complete a dental hygienist training program and had been hired by a local doctor in the neighboring town where she lived. Being single, the money she made was good when compared to the rest of the clan, and it had allowed her to qualify for a loan which in turn let her buy her first new car.
I was gone when she arrived in late afternoon but I returned home not long before she was getting ready to leave. I had no idea who owned the shiny, new blue car in our muddy driveway, but my guess was it was a salesman of some sort but it could also have been my dad's hunting partner from Seattle. He was retired and had a lot of discretionary cash.
I pulled in beside it so as not to block its exit, got out and walked through the grass to the front door. (Sidewalks were for rich folks.) As I opened the door I heard my dad say, "Oh, there's Cal right now. You won't recognize him anymore. He got his braces off before the start of the year and he's been lifting weights like some kind of mad man." I looked around and saw my dad, then my mom, and then my heart stopped. I heard dad say, "Look who stopped by, Cal. It's your cousin, Nancy. You remember her, right?"
It took me a second to regain my composure before smiling and saying, "Oh, sure! Hi, Nancy. How've you been?" I did remember her but just barely. I couldn't remember the last time I saw her and more importantly, I couldn't remember why I couldn't remember. She was beautiful!
Her smile took my breath away. "Hello, Calvin!" she said. How could she know I hated being called by my full name and that no one had done that since junior high? As much as I disliked that, I didn't say anything. I just smiled and stared without actually staring. Her silky blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun and although she was wearing very little makeup her face was what caught my attention. High cheek bones arched high over round, rosy cheeks, and she had a smile that made my knees weak. She was also very nicely proportioned with a tiny waist, long, thin legs, a great ass, and perfectly sized boobs.
I was definitely a boob guy and there was nothing sexier to me than a pair of size C tits framed by a form-fitting, figure-hugging sweater. You see, girls and women wore sweaters most of the year in that part of the country and to this day, I love nothing more on a woman. That day, Nancy was wearing a long-sleeved, white, ribbed-knit turtleneck and it was all I could do not to stare at the two round mounds I'd recently begun calling 'sweater puppets.'
I finally managed to speak and said, "It's good to see you, Nancy. What's going on with you these days?" as though we'd just seen one another a few weeks ago. "Is that your new car in the driveway?" I realized as soon as I asked how ridiculous the question was. My mom didn't drive and my dad's pickup was in the lean-to he'd built off the garage he'd put up many years back.
"It is. Do you like it? I'm so excited! I've never had a new car before. Do you wanna check it out?"
"Sure!" I told her. I was still standing near the front door so I turned around and opened it for her then kept it open as my mom and dad both went out for what was certainly a second look.
