He had moved in a few years back to try and put down some roots. The old man had long since gone to God knows where to leave Mom having to look after our farm and raise me on her own. I had been just twelve when he disappeared one Saturday in June and as the years had passed came to learn that he was a weak-willed man who hated responsibility and loved his drink. The extra pair of hands had been a Godsend and Uncle Joe settled into the routine of farm and rural life.He gave me a nudge and I looked up to see the woman in black and a female companion approaching us as we stood there in our Sunday best holding our hats respectfully in front of us.She took my Uncle's hand first and thanked him for coming and then she turned as she looked at me through her veil. It had been an age since I last saw her and only had vague memories of what she looked like."You must be Thomas," she said, taking my hand in hers. Her grip was firm and strong, "My, you've grown," she smiled, "How old are you. I grab on it like a leash and pull him after me to the basement. ?Down. Lay down on the floor. On your back.? I watch as he stretches on his back, towel riding higher, he uncertain what to do ??Hands up, above your head. Leave the towel alone.? I lover myself on my knees next to him, admiring the perfect fullness of youth. My fingers trace silky skin over taut arms, tickling his underarm eliciting chuckle and bringing smile back to his warm dark eyes. Hand lingering over his hot skin, not touching, just feeling, than playing with few droplets of water still clinging to his chest ? I bend over, closer to him drawn by the site, smell ? Perfect little nipple, pleading to be licked! His eyes flutter shut at the flicker of my tongue, his arm reaches for my head ??Don’t touch! Don’t move!? I hiss against his skin and he tenses, breath interrupted. ?Keep those hands stretched out there. I touch. You ? feel.? Stomach muscles tighten as he obeys. I listen to his breathing, rhythmic beat.
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