You see—the person everyone called Aunt Bessie—Well, I called her Mom.The Winter of 1938Winters in the Midwest are always bitter cold. That winter...we were eking out a hard-bitten existence. Fortunately, all summer long we had cut and stacked firewood down one side of our old house, so we stayed warm and cozy.In addition, my mother, like every other year, had spent the summer canning hundreds of Mason jars filled with beans, tomatoes, peaches, and other items.Anyway, on a bitter cold windy. She must have had her eyes closed for a moment as the story became her own fantasy. The thought of hiding ‘James’ in the grandfather clock crossed her mind once more, before she focused again on the words. The author knew how to write. Annie and James had the most beautiful sex. She was unable to get her hand inside her jeans. She unclipped the fastening-button, and with a force generated by weeks of frustration, wrenched herself out of them. Her panties followed suit. Now her hand had free. More

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