Sitting in the second row it was easy to see Aunt Letha’s picture on the easel next to her coffin, a huge spray of flowers cascading over the top fit her to a T. She had planned her own funeral down to the very songs she wanted sung and the scriptures she wanted used in the message to be given by the pastor. I felt as though she had departed far too early at the age of 81, bone cancer had other ideas. She had one of those *old* names you seldom see any longer. I didn’t know her well, in fact none of us nieces and nephews knew her well, she lived four states away, kept to herself and had not once shown up for a family reunion in my lifetime. She was dad’s oldest sister and though he spoke of her it was never with affection, he wasn’t nasty, his words were generally factual and uncaring.

She had never married, I’m not sure if she ever so much as dated, after teaching English in the same school system for thirty eight years she made the decision to retire at sixty five thinking she’d finally travel the world she had neglected for so long. She made it to Australia, Japan, Argentina, and India before sickness overtook her body, her dreams of seeing the Middle East, all of Europe and Southeast Asia were dampened with one unfortunate doctors visit. She was due to have a hip replaced and had gone in for all the pre-op examinations, her blood samples revealed she was already riddled with cancer.

I had initially gone to see her shortly after hearing of her diagnosis, but found myself visiting every few months minimum, I soon came to realize I was traveling the same path she had traveled her entire life. I was a single woman forty four years of age teaching school and had never been on a date, not an official one, Mike Hess kissed me at an eighth grade party and then told everyone about it, that was the end of boys for me. I didn’t want to be alone and at the same time I didn’t want the hurt and turmoil I’d seen in so many of my fellow teachers, infidelity, unplanned pregnancies, the constant sexual tension and flirtation between adults who swore to be monogamous, the potential for unwanted drama was everywhere.

A few months before her death Aunt Letha called and asked if I would come visit her while she was still of sound mind. When I arrived she was napping, I made coffee to go along with a few decadent swirling frosted sweet rolls that are supposed to be bad for you, but as auntie said on the phone, *what are they gonna do, kill me*, to which we both laughed. When she woke she talked mostly of her early years and then became silent for a spell, probably three minutes or more before she spoke again.

“There are a few things I want to say to you Belle and I want you to listen without interruption, you can ask anything you want after that.”

I set my coffee cup down, hunched forward on my chair and made sure she knew I was listening intently.

“I’m dying more rapidly than I thought Belle, I don’t have kids or anyone to leave my belongings to but nieces and nephews, none of whom have ever visited me except you. Therefore, what I have left when I die will be inherited by you, it isn’t much but at least I know it will mean something to you and not simply be wasted.”

I opened my mouth to speak when she raised her hand, “Shush child, you can talk later. What I’m going to say next is the most important thing I can leave you with. Don’t live your life like me any longer Belle, I’m a dried up old lady with no one to hold at night or share a kiss with in the morning. I allowed myself to live within what I thought was a protective shell when in reality, it was a wall, a prison wall I’d built around my heart. If I hadn’t been so afraid of life I could have loved and shared my time with a loving man, a few were interested and wanted me to, but I foolishly kept that door closed.”

After a short coughing spell and a minute or so with the oxygen mask she continued, “Don’t be like me honey, find someone you’re comfortable with enough to trust them and then tear down the wall around your heart. I would love to have known what it was like to have a man kiss me passionately, caress my body and yes, make love to me, to fill me with his seed and know I had become a woman in every way. You’re still young Belle, don’t waste any more time honey, don’t die all alone like I am.”

I was shocked, perplexed and flabbergasted all at the same time. My saintly aunt just told me to find a man and screw him, well not in those words, but it’s what I heard, until I gave it a few minutes thought. That wasn’t what she said, she was telling me to let a loving man into my life.

I had moved my chair next to her recliner to hold her hand as I spoke, “But how do I do that auntie? I can’t very well put an ad in the paper looking for a man to love me? At my age I don’t want any children, don’t most men want a family? I’ve been single for so long I’m not sure I want to share my bathroom or MY BODY with a man, the thought of a man’s hands under my dress or up my blouse is foreign to me, I don’t know if I could do that.”

She pointed her finger at me, “That right there is what I’m talking about sweetheart, those thoughts were my thoughts fifty years ago and look where they got me. I never had a man caress me but I had a roommate in college who kissed me and felt my breasts a few times, it was exciting, invigorating and it made me very aroused, but again, I couldn’t go through with allowing myself to love. I’m not telling you to become a lesbian, what I’m saying is that there can be physical pleasure with one you love and trust.”

“Aunt Letha I would have no idea what to do or where to look. I have no desire to watch porn and try to figure how it all works, what does a forty four year old woman do to learn such things without making a fool of herself?”

Squeezing my hand she smiled, “If you have a close woman friend who is happily married talk with her, she’ll tell you what to expect and how to be intimate with a man, and if you are willing to simply listen you may not be embarrassed by all she tells you. I’ve been told time and again the marriage bed can be very exciting. Did you know humans and dolphins are the only two species who enjoy sex for pleasure? For the rest it’s simply breeding.”

The day of the funeral I don’t think I heard a word the young minister said while he spoke of Aunt Letha, my mind was replaying her words to me as though those thoughts were on a continuous loop in my head. I determined at the moment I was going to take her words to heart and actually do something to make sure I didn’t die as she so aptly put it, *a dried up old lady* with no one to hold at night or kiss good morning. The funeral was on a Tuesday, the family met at the lawyers Wednesday afternoon, I found it interesting that not one of them had ever visited when she was alive yet here they were for the scraps once she was dead.

Let me assure you it did not go well, there was much of what the Bible describes as, *wailing and gnashing of teeth*. The lawyer kept it all in order and when it was finished not one person would talk with me, which was okay, considering they all lived on the west coast and me in the Midwest they didn’t talk with me anyway. She bequeathed to me her house, car, life insurance and what she had saved for decades as her retirement account, as she said it wasn’t a ton of money but when all was said and done I had an additional three hundred and eighty seven thousand dollars to put in my retirement fund. I didn’t need the schools pissy little three percent match to my 401-K contributions any longer, in fact, with the inheritance there was well over a million in there already, I could stop contributing altogether if I wanted to.

With it being July I was on summer break, my closest friend in all the world was Chelsea Gregory, the school librarian, we’d been hired within six months of each other and were about to celebrate twenty two years at the same school. She had what I considered a solid marriage to a marvelous man with three kids. He was always kind, considerate, he seemed to dote over her and certainly showed his affection for her. I knew they had disagreements but as she said to me years ago, “we’ve learned to disagree without being disagreeable, we can still be in love and not like each other at a given moment.”

The exact words in that conversation still bring a smile to my lips, “Tom has wanted to kill me a few times but he’s never wanted to divorce me.”

I called and asked if she was up for a cup of coffee and some conversation, she told me to stop in after ten because two of the kids had swimming lessons, I showed up at eleven with a fresh pizza and 2 liter bottle of her favorite soft drink. Following lunch we cleared the table and stacked the dishes to wash later, the kids found their way outside and into the neighbo’rs yard to play. Chelsea sat back and asked.

“What’s up Belle, you look like you have a lot on your mind?”

I shared with her all that auntie had told me and then got red in the face. I had no idea if she was going to tell me I was off my rocker or find a way to tell me why I should let a man into my life. She looked around a little, stared at the ceiling a few seconds and sat with her serious face pondering before she spoke.

“Technically I agree with your aunt, the first step is to let a man love and care for you, but it takes work, we’ve been programmed from puberty on that the only thing guys want is to get in our pants and once they’ve done that they discard us. And there are some like that, but there are far more that simply want to be with us, to show affection and receive the same in kind, it isn’t all about sex in a loving relationship … although it’s a lot of fun when it is, Tom says the worst sex we’ve ever had was wonderful.”

Shifting in her seat so she was looking directly at me, “When the right one comes along you’ll know it, I’d venture to say there have been a few through the years who would have died for you, but you weren’t looking and never saw them. You must first make yourself available and I’m not talking about looking like a slut, I’m talking about lowering your defenses enough to enjoy a man’s presence while still being cautious. Being open enough to let him win your heart.”

That part I could see, it was the sex part that bothered me, “What about having his hands on your body, isn’t that repulsive?”

She laughed softly, “Let’s play a game, go along with it and I think it will begin to answer your question. Imagine lying in bed with a pair of strong arms encircling your body, his lips softly and delicately press into yours, imagine your lips melting together, so out of breath from the headiness of the kiss you feel almost dizzy. Now imagine his hand slides up your side and gently cups your breast which he then squeezes lightly and molds into a protruding cone drawing his hand outward until his fingers find and roll the nipple into hardness before he pinches it softly.

I was getting a warm feeling in my body and my face showed it as she continued.

“As he’s kissing you passionately his hand stops playing with your breasts and slides downward across the flatness of your tummy stopping at the elastic of your panties. You moan softly into his mouth and raise your hips ever so slightly signaling him to go on, you feel the fingers slip under the elastic and his fingers are in your fur pie, playing, tugging lightly before a finger cascades over your mound and into the crevice between your thighs. Your legs open a little allowing that finger to slide through the slick sticky folds of your kitty, without penetrating he draws his finger through the folds again, pulls his hand out, makes a circle around your nipple with your girl juices and then sucks that nipple into his mouth. Your head is back, your mouth open without a sound coming from it and your hand is on the back of his head clasping it tight to your tit.”

Without realizing what I was doing I noticed my hand resting on my breast and my breathing was choppy at best. Tit, kitty, hard nipples, these were not word’s she and I had never used before, but they sure piqued my interest.

“With a nipple in his mouth the tingling begins between your legs and radiates out, his hand is back inside your panties, your legs spread more as he eases a long digit inside you, your hips are rocking and you aren’t able to breathe normally. Your hips push up each time he pushes inside, little eep noises and uh’s are flowing from your mouth as he moves his finger up to touch your love button stimulating it, driving you closer to a mind blowing climax.”

My hand had involuntarily dropped from my breast to the inside of my thigh on the outside of my dress, it wasn’t moving but I certainly felt turned on by the descriptive conversation.

“On his hands and knees he lifts your butt, slides your panties off and buries his face in your muff, you push into him and let out a squeal of delight as he licks you to an orgasm.”

My eyes shot wide open, every feeling of eroticism left my body as I stared at her. “You mean to tell me Tom licks your, you know.” She softly interjected the word *pussy*.I continued, “Yeah, that, don’t you wash or something?”

“When we first got married I was paranoid about not smelling fresh and would wash or shower every time before we made love, one night he more or less took me on the living room rug, he wouldn’t let me wash, he pulled my panties off, stuck his face in my crotch and licked me to an orgasm, then he screwed me on the floor in front of the fireplace. It was some of the best sex we’d had up to that point.”

I was surprised by what I was hearing, I mentioned that it all sounded so unhygienic.

“Here’s what he told me. I don’t want to smell the scent of your latest soap, I want to smell my wife’s pussy ready to be fucked. Sorry for the crude language, but that’s what he said. He told me likes the fact that I get so wet and sticky as he excites me that he has to peel the crotch of my panties from my vulva. When the moment arrives that the tip of his penis lines up with my vagina and he begins to push in I lose all sense of inhibition wanting to give myself to him spirit, soul, and body.”

I was breathing hard, my face felt as though it was on fire. Chelsea put her hand on top of mine and looked at me.

“Be honest with me Belle, are your panties at least damp if not wet with a thick sticky cream, are your vulva pulsing from the blood rushing through them, can you envision his hand cupping your sex as you push into him?”

I had moved my hand up to touch my crotch, as she asked those questions I slid the hem upward, put my hand underneath the dress and touched my sopping wet panties. Through staggered breaths I nodded and muttered, “Yes, I can envision that, oh my gosh Chelsea, please don’t tell anyone about this.”

“This will never be mentioned beyond you and me, something else you need to know hon, we possess a powerful bit of anatomy that motivates our lover to show us affection and passion. When I realized years ago that Tom would do nearly anything for me because of a little pink slit between my legs, a place that brought pleasure to both of us, I determined to make sure he got all of that he desired and I’ve never wanted for anything since. That man would eat the peanuts out of my poop just to see where it came from.” I must have looked shocked. “It’s a figure of speech Belle, only a figure of speech.”

Chelsea continued, “Answer me honestly, are your panties wet? Do your nipples hurt from being hard? Is there a tingling sensation radiating throughout your body? Did you cum a little, you looked like you did?”

Now I was thoroughly embarrassed, was my small climax that obvious, does she think I’m being slutty touching myself? So many questions. Could a man really do that to me and send me over the edge every time we had sex?

She answered my question without me asking, “It isn’t like that every single time but it can be just as fulfilling. Something Tom loves to do if the kids are gone to Grams and if I’m in a dress is bend me over the back of the couch or kitchen table, he yanks my panties down and mounts me, it goes so deep, we both love it. It’s exciting to have him take me like I’m his little sex kitten or fuck toy, he doesn’t ask or carry on with a lot of our normal foreplay during those times, we forget about everything else and just fuck. I know my words are different, but to be honest Belle, nothing else describes it so well.”

On the corner of the table was a small pile of underwear that she’d folded earlier, I noticed the pair on top that amounted too nothing more than a wispy bit of lace fabric that would hide nothing. Picking them up I could see through them with clarity as she smiled at me.

“Do you actually wear these Chelsea? There isn’t enough there to even cover your pubic hair.”

She was chuckling, “Who says I have pubic hair?”

I was in shock, sure I knew the high school girls did that for who knows what reason, but a full-grown woman.

“You mean you shave down there? Do you shave everything?”

“Not everything, Tom likes some on top above my clit, says that being completely bald reminds him too much of his sisters when they were little girls. I can see his point, I keep it in a nicely shaped V, ending just below the panty line.”

Yet another shocking moment, “You mean Tom likes that?”

“Oh honey, when his tongue slides from bottom to top and stops at my clit with no hint of a single hair in the way he groans like an animal in heat. Now listen, what I say next stays with you and me … no one else. I like to have him shave my labia, he softly stretches each side and gently removes the few hairs that exist, Belle, he literally drools when I have him do that. And when he’s done he always licks me to an orgasm or three, often they come in waves, I can’t seem to figure out where one ends and the next one begins. I become so sensitive I have to push him away.”

My breathing was ragged and choppy, I couldn’t seem to slow my body’s metabolism, then it hit, my body shook and I could feel the cream of my pussy fill my panties. I’d creamed a few times prior from wet dreams but they were nothing like this, my panties were soaked to the point I was concerned it would leak through onto my dress. As I regained a modicum of composure I opened my eyes to see Chelsea grinning from ear to ear.

She offered me a dry pair of panties or a light days pad to keep from soaking through my dress on the way home. I chose the pad, kissed her cheek goodbye and slid my sensitive ass onto the warmness of the seat after the car had been sitting in the sun for hours. I liked the feeling of the heat radiating up into my vaginal area, it felt relaxing. Without asking her advice I went to an online dating site looking for someone only to be sorely disappointed, the few I did chat with were alright at first, then they would send a picture of their dick. I instantly deleted them.

It was a few weeks before school was due to begin, most teachers were spending at least part of their day preparing for the opening, Chelsea and I sat together with our bag lunch most days. It took a few days but our lunch conversation finally got around to the day in her kitchen. I told her it had awakened a desire inside but I was thoroughly disgusted with the online sites.