The whole month my Aunt Cindy was always there, doing chores, gathering eggs, feeding the chickens; always with me watching. It was hard not to watch...her work.She would throw on an old T shirt and her dark nipples would be clearly visible, straining against the material when they got hard. Sometimes it was an old flannel shirt, the top few buttons unbuttoned allowing me to catch a glance of her tits while she bent over. A few times I thought it was intentional, allowing me a long look at her. . . have been thinking about marriage, too. But . . . this is . . . much too soon to be considering that . . .yet.’ ‘Oh,’ I said, rather stupidly. ‘Uh . . . I wasn’t talking about marriage . . .’ ‘You weren’t?’ he asked, stunned again, and then embarrassed. He looked at the table, at the wall, anywhere but at me. ‘Oh, geez. Oh gosh. I’m . . .not that kind of guy. I’m . . . waiting for marriage, and . . .’ My erudite and well-spoken companion was suddenly dumb-struck, and terribly like a bashful. More

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