A measuring cup on the counter was swimming in a shallow pool of milk that was slowly spreading toward the edge, where it would fall, he saw, onto a d...sorderly jumble of spatulas and stirring spoons and ladles and -- what was that thing that looked like a pig's tail?An "oof!" reminded him that Aunt Frankie must be somewhere in this mess. But where? He couldn't see her. Just then, a white cloud billowed up from the other side of the island. He looked over and saw Aunt Frankie kneeling down to. Her hair was rich brown. She wore low, tight shorts and a short-sleeve top that stopped just at the arch of her ribcage. For me, that promise of forbidden accessibility, the taut belly and breasts open to the sweep of a hand, is truly exciting. As I returned her gaze, the fractions of seconds that passed in inspection let my mind re-capture her name."Alexy. Alexy Tennyson," I recalled, "five years ago, wasn't it? My first year at High."She smiled — blindingly — and stood. Her top thrust forward. More

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