Rate this story It was 1959 and I was eighteen years old. My mother and father had died over a year ago in a car crash and after spending six months in a foster home my Aunty Jean had taken me in as her ward. Aunty Jean was forty-five and quite an attractive woman for her age. Her body was a little on the large side but she had large creamy breasts and stunning legs for a woman her age. She worked in an office in the city and her work attire usually consisted of skirt, blouse, heels and hosiery;...
