Loving Her Never Stops

As you can see I'm in the the over 60 crowd. I taught 9th grade most of my career. But growing up I was one of seven, two boys, five girls. We lived in a small town, our parents were blue collar types, Catholics, we lived in a small two bedroom house on the border between Pennsylvania and New York. We were poor but everyone was poor so we didn't know it.

I'm a middle child, ahead of me was my oldest sister who got knocked up in high school and had to get married, next to me one of my brothers who I helped masturbate when we were in junior high. Curiously I didn't masturbate, I didn't have time. There was little enough time to see myself naked, one bathroom, nine people, seven kids in a room. Modesty was averting your eyes, masturbating my brother was under the covers, his bed was next to mine. Sex was not a topic but not taboo either. My sisters pregnancy was discussed and everyone knew how, when and where it happened. Just keep your legs crossed. There was no contraception, if it happens then you get married.

I got a scholarship and left for college, lots of little girls still tied to their mother's apron strings, I was the dorm mother. In my room, a young girl from Cumberland, the daughter of a doctor, private school girl. It was only then that I started to really focus on her form. Long legs, flat tummy, high mounted breasts, tiny tight butt. And perfect teeth, long auburn hair, wide open eyes, straight patrician nose. Half Italian, half Irish, a really pretty Catholic girl. I didn't know it, I was falling in love. I reached out to her, the older sister and she fell into my welcoming arms. Holding her, laughing with her, kissing her soft cheeks, going to Mass together, overseeing her class schedule, her homework. If ever I was a big sister, a mother, it was with her. And she gave me her unquestioning love.

There were nights when the best thing to do was to cuddle, there were nights when the thing to do was undress her, piece by piece, uncovering her slender body, her breasts deserved kisses, her flat belly and her mound, breathing in the smell of the soft hair around her vulva, opening her lady lips to peer within, licking up her treasure, we found we were meant for each other. We became lovers, insatiable lovers, hours and hours of naked love in our room undisturbed, no one to tell us that what we were doing was wrong.

Until the summer after our freshman year we went home, she got knocked up, she had to get married. My broken heart would not heal and in desperation, out of anger and rage I gave myself to my older brother's friend, knowing full well I would have to get married. If she had a child, so would I. And so it was, we were both married. We managed to finish college have several children, make our lives like our sisters and brothers, but we never stopped being in touch.

Until in our forties, with grown children we decided to meet again twenty five years later. Her beauty was still there, her long hair, her eyes, her long legs, her breasts up high. I sat and just looked into her eyes, smelled her in her hair. I kissed her soft cheek, her lips. We went to my hotel room and undressed her piece by piece, kissed her breasts one by one, my nose deep in the soft hair around her vulva, opened her lady lips to lick up her treasure. Twenty five years were gone in an instant. No one to tell us what we were doing was wrong, we made love in our room undisturbed that night.

We live together, we raised our children as we had been taught, divorcing our husbands once our children were gone, we threw off the chains of what's proper and what's wrong, we broke our Catholic upbringing, and set up house together.