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The Legend of Zelda

Category: Mature
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It was the late 70s. I was in college and not old enough to drink legally, but looked old enough so that my ID was rarely checked. I worked as a cook in a steak house and my asshole manager, Newman, stalked into the kitchen after closing time and barked “There is some cunt asking about you in the bar. The only reason I didn’t throw her out is because she is spending money. Go get rid of her and get your ass back here to clean up.”

“Fuck you” I mumbled as I took off my grungy apron and went up to the bar. The “cunt” Newman was bitching about was the most fun person I know: my aunt Rhoda. She had the craziest laugh I ever heard and a throaty voice that was so gravelly it seemed phony. Her laugh was not a chuckle, but a bellow, and she made everyone around her laugh as well.

Rhoda was named for a famous nymph in Greek mythology and she took pride in knowing only part of the legend, that is, that nymphs were so sexual that they scared mortal men. They were so sexually free (not ideal for women of that time) that ancient Greek men figured they were evil at their core. Actually, they were female fairies that embodied that Cyndi Lauper hit, “Girls Just Want To Have Fun.” And my Aunt Rhoda embodied that spirit. She was married, to a huge Cajun that loved to cook and sing and had a mean streak, but on a regular basis she drove up to Kansas City from Port Arthur, Texas to visit her favorite sister and go to cowboy bars on the east side of town to find a cowboy to party with for a day or two. Mom hated Rhoda’s loose morals, but loved her laugh and her company, so she overlooked the sexual dalliances and Rhoda stayed with us when she visited.

I was in college in a large college town called Springfield when Rhoda was calling for me in the bar. The assistant manager, the bartender and a group of regulars were laughing so hard that they were wiping tears from their eyes when I walked into the bar. She saw me, jumped up out of the barstool and yelled across the bar: “Come here and hug me, you sexy thing!!” She crushed herself against me and hugged me so hard I could barely breathe.

“Rhoda, what are you doing here?”

“I am on my way back to visit Grandma and Grandpa and came through Springfield to see my favorite nephew!” All the guys guffawed when they could see the embarrassment on my face. I was used to her antics, and I knew her heart was in the right place, but the donkeys in the bar brayed about what they thought was taboo sexuality.

“How long will you be in Springfield?”

“I am leaving late tomorrow morning but I am going out tonight with a friend of mine and wanted to invite you to meet us. We are going to the Hitchin’ Post to see if we can get lucky with a cowboy, and I thought I should buy you a beer.”

“The Hunchin’ Post,” I thought to myself. It was a notorious pick-up joint for the drunk rednecks that lived here. Unlike the bars on the east side in KC, these were no weekend cowboys caught up in the fever of “Urban Cowboy.” They were the real deal: beat up pick-up trucks, beat up girlfriends and beat up best friends if someone got their nose out of joint. “OK,” I agreed, “but I can only stay for one or two, I have class tomorrow. Look for me in about an hour, I have to finish up here and shower and change clothes.”

She grabbed my face in both of her hands and gave me a huge smacker on the lips. “Don’t be too late, it isn’t polite to leave a lady waiting.”

More grunts, oinks and guffaws from the guys in the bar. I went back to the kitchen and asked Tony Zito if he would finish up for me. He agreed, and I clocked out. Newman was on his ass in the office and yelled as I walked by to hit the back door “Jack! You cocksucker! Get your ass back here, or you’re fired!” He continued to rant as I left.

“Fuck you, Newman” was all I could think as I jogged to the ’71 Gremlin that I called my ride. It was a piece of shit, but all I could afford. I drove home, jumped into the shower and tried to soap the scuzz away. My roommate, Jimbo, poked his head in the bathroom and asked if I was going out. When he heard I was meeting my aunt at the Hunchin’ Post, he cackled his ass off and started singing in a twangy voice, “Stand by yer man…”

It trailed away and then it hit me. I was not a cowboy. I had not idea how to dress or how to act, and I was asking for trouble.

As I dried off, I caught the clock out of the corner of my eye, and I was still ahead of schedule. I might actually catch her there. I was concerned that even if I risked life and limb to go into a honky-tonk, she would have already found her cowboy du jour and left for the night. I thought, “fuck it” and put on my usual going-out garb: sandals, corduroys and an un-ironed cotton dress shirt. I did grab my roomie’s cowboy hat on the way out and drove the Gremlin POS to the Hitchin’ Post.

God. Even on a Wednesday night the place was packed. I had to park on a spit of dirt and gravel in the back of the joint and fight my way into the crowded front door. There must have been two hundred cowboy hats and two hundred blonde beehive hairdos. I heard the live band pumping out “Redneck Mother” and figured it might not be all bad. I got a beer and leaned against a post in the middle of the bar and started looking for Rhoda. No dice. I couldn’t find her anywhere. A bouncer walked closely by and I touched his arm and yelled above the music, “Hey, can you tell me if you have seen an older redhead wearing a bright yellow vest?”

He looked at the hand on his arm, sneered at me and asked, “You’re kidding, right?”

“What a dumbshit,” I thought to myself. How could I ask something so obviously stupid? I looked again and was ready to call it a night when a melodic voice, right by my ear asked if I needed another beer. I turned to tell the waitress that I was fine, only to find that it was not a waitress. I didn’t know who it was, but she looked like she stepped off of the set of “Hee Haw.” She was probably in her late forties or early fifties and had sky blue eyeshade and impossibly long eyelashes. She wore a gingham top that was pulled low in front and tightly around her bust to give that “foot of cleavage” look. She had those sprayed-on tight jeans, red cowgirl boots and a cute bouffant blonde hairdo that must have taken three cans of AquaNet to manage. She was so cute I said, “Sure. I need another beer. Can I get one for you?” She just grinned, produced two beers from behind her and gave me one. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” I jokingly asked.

She lowered her lids a bit, and her smile went from innocent to seductive. “Only if it makes getting you in the sack that much easier,” she replied.

Wow. I was OK looking, almost six feet tall and in pretty good shape, but the college girls who knew me thought that I was an arrogant ass. The ones who didn’t know me that I was a socialist dork because of my bushy hair, my fu manchu and my Trotskyesque conversation. This one was cute and clueless and had “cut me out of the herd” based soley on the way I looked. I wasn’t sure if it was because I looked cute, lonely or just available, but being hit on was refreshing.

She had to be my mom’s age, but she was very appealing. Her tits were heavy and round, she had a tiny waist and this crazy round ass and hips like a mare. When she turned around to pick up her denim jacket off of a chair, I clucked to myself. She really did look like a horse: a beautiful round ass with huge powerful cheeks, and tiny tapered legs. Her little boots reminded me of the painted hooves I saw at the circus when I was eight years old.

She draped her jean jacket over her arm and I noticed her beer was already gone. “Are you about ready to go?” she asked.

“Holy shit,” I thought. “I just met this woman ninety seconds ago.”

I stammered a reply “Well, I was looking for someone.”

“So were you looking for someone in particular? Or just someone closer to your age?” She didn’t appear to be hurt, she appeared to be a little bit pissed-off.

“No, ma’am. I just remembered that I was looking for you.” I grinned and she was disarmed a bit, I drained my beer and we headed out the door. There was no way that getting laid could be this easy. No way. We cleared the door and she put her arm around me and slipped her tiny hand with the long, red fingernails into my back pocket and put her head against my upper arm. Even in her shitkickers with the three inch heels, she could not have been much more than five feet tall. She didn’t mention a car, so I led her to the mighty Gremlin.

I escorted her to the passenger side and opened the door for her. “You’re not serious. This is your car?” Her laugh was high and clear and didn’t bother me in the least. She slipped into the POS and I got in the driver’s side and asked her where-to.

“I thought we might go back to your place,” she started. “That is, of course, unless you live with your momma.”

I told her my roommates were pigs and that she would not be comfortable in my twin bed, so she said, “Take me to my room at the Howard Johnson. We might get lucky and find out that my roommate has found other accommodations for the night.”

We drove north on the main drag, and she pulled out a tiny compact from a jacket pocket and checked her lipstick and her eye makeup in the mirror. I was not sure if I liked her sarcasm or not. She seemed to flip back and forth between truly wanting me to screw her and patronizing me for being a poor student. “Hmm. Older chicks,” I thought. ” I hope the sex is worth it.”

As the AMC six cylinder whined its way north, she turned in her seat and asked, “So, what’s your name, Sweetie?” Her smile was genuine and her teeth were large and formed a bit of an overbite. Her eyes sparkled and for emphasis, on the word “Sweetie,” she shook a bit in her seat. That is the first time I noticed how truly impressive her tits were. Although this was an era before the proliferation of the “push ’em up, push ’em up, way-ay-ay up!” cheerleader Wonderbras, her cleavage was high, deep and proud. Her bosom was heavy and continued to jiggle for a second or two after her torso had stopped. Damn.

“Jack. Not John, just Jack.”

“So, tell me about your beanstalk, Jack…” She cackled and leaned forward and put her hand on my crotch. She rubbed a bit until she could find where my shaft laid. She stroked the corduroy until it started hardening and she squealed like a kid. Now, we should probably get this out of the way right now: even in my youth, my cock was average. Maybe six inches when truly angry, no thicker than normal. She continued to touch it with her palm and fingertips and stared at the tent being formed in my pants. I had gone commando, my corduroys were pretty loose so my cock moved to center and began sticking straight up.

In order to keep my mind on the road I asked for her name. “Zelda. I know it is old fashioned and sounds a little too country, but it is memorable.” About the time when I feared I might cum in my pants, the lights of the Howard Johnson appeared on the right, and I asked which wing her room was on. She gave directions, I drove right to the lower-level door, and stopped the car. I turned toward her, and she was already getting out of the car and trying to dig a key out of her tight rear pocket.

She flung the door open, tossed her jacket on the bed and jumped into the middle of the double bed nearest the windows. As she propped herself up on one elbow grinning like the winner of the lottery, I closed the door and took a quick look around. There were clothes and shopping bags all over the floor, and enough luggage for three or four people. There were obviously at least two people staying here, and it appeared they had been in the room for a couple of days.

“Where are you from, Zelda?” I asked as I flipped Jimbo’s cowboy hat onto the empty bed.

“Texas,” she replied as she continued to stare at me like a wolf might eye a spring lamb.

I unbuttoned my shirt, pulled out the tails, and pitched it onto the spare bed. “Are you going to be in Springfield long?” I asked as I kicked off my sandals.

She whistled and lowered her voice. “I love a hairy chest. I think I may have gotten lucky.” Was she avoiding the question? Or was she just distracted? I stood there in my corduroys and arched an eyebrow. “Go on,” she said. “I want to see how my luck is running.” Although this was not my first time by any means, and it was not even my first one-night stand, I felt a bit uncomfortable. She was fully clothed and at least twice my age. I felt like it was an audition. My cock was beginning to ache, so I plunged ahead. After a single button and a quick zip, I yanked my pants to the floor, kicked them off and stood before her, naked.

She smiled. She shifted onto her back, propping her upper torso on both elbows and I thought her tits were going to rip through the gingham. She parted her legs and quietly beckoned me forward. I climbed between her legs, her jeans a tad bit rough on my cock, my arms on each side of her waist and I kissed her. She closed her eyes, gave me her tongue, rolled her head back and I kissed her chin and her neck. She sighed and finally let herself down fully onto the bed. I lied on top of her and sucked on her neck and her collarbone and nestled my lower half down between her legs. She ran one hand through my hair and the other scratched on shoulder blade as I unbuttoned her blouse and I started chewing on her enormous nipple through the nylon lace of her bra. “Go easy, lover,” she murmured, “Go easy. My puppies like it gentle and slow.”

I reached behind her and tried to unhook her bra. “Tried” is the operative word. It was one of those works of MIT engineering: a three-inch rear strap and four hooks. She laughed, I laughed and in one swoop she pushed me to the side and rolled on top of me. It was her turn to straddle. I had never seen anything as sexy as the disheveled bottle blond, with her shirt unbuttoned and her impossibly white bra reaching behind herself to remove the contraption. It only took a second, and she pulled her arms from her shirt sleeves and from the bra in one motion. She pulled the cups away and her tits spilled out. I had to suck in my breath when she sat up straight and tossed the clothing onto the floor, because her body was unlike any I had ever seen before, and it was tremendously exciting.

As she straddled me I could tell she weighed very little, and I was right about how petite she was. Her waist was tiny and my hands could have easily spanned her rib cage, but her tits were huge. They fell deeply toward her belly, pointing downward, but retaining a very round quality. Her areolae were what my buddies referred to as “pancakes.” They were large and dark and three inches across. Her nipples were long and fat. Her tits were such a contrast to everything else above her waist: she had delicate features, tiny hands, a beautiful neck and a well-defined collarbone. Before I could look at her tits any longer, she lowered them onto my face. I couldn’t believe how warm and heavy they were. I tried to inhale them. She used her hands and their pendulous mass to drag them over my eyes and cheeks and forehead. When she directed one to my mouth, I suckled a nipple and she gasped. “Suck on Momma, baby. You like that, you dirty boy. Momma likes it, too,” she cooed in a musical voice. I was gentle but insistent. I had never experienced a real woman before, only girls that had no clue how erotic breasts could be. I licked her pancakes and quickly moved to the other tit, lest it get jealous. Zelda suddenly shifted so that she was beside me and began licking my nipples. She did not practice what she preached for she squeezed my cock in her hand and bit on my nipple so severely that it hurt. However, I noticed that my cock jumped at the same time. She gave a throaty chuckle and began licking my chest and kissing her way down to my navel. She dipped her tongue in and around my navel, and I was glad that I had showered. She shifted again and put her cheek against my cock. She moaned and stroked her cheek up and down along the length of it. As I reached up to grab her denim-covered ass, she kissed the head of my cock, and licked around the crown. I slid my hand between her legs and sawed it in and out along the seam at her crotch, and she sucked my cock into her mouth and began sucking in earnest. Her tongue continued to work against the shaft as she moved her mouth up and down and her cheeks pulled in to keep suction at a maximum.

With one hand she pumped my cock up and down in counterpoint to her mouth. I was frustrated as hell that the jeans were blocking access to her fun parts, so I flat-out asked her: “What would you think of getting naked with me?”

She sat up, still pumping with her hand, and answered: “Only if you let me turn the lights out.”

“Then let’s get it dark in here, because I need some of your sweet pussy.”

She stood up to peel the jeans and her panties down, and I turned the lights off in the room. Just as I got to the light in the bathroom, I noticed in the vanity-sink mirror that the flesh on her upper legs and ass was very loose and that she had a lot of cellulite. No wonder she was self-conscious. It really did not matter to me in the least, and I found the flaws somehow sexy. It made her appear more real to me.

By the time I got back to the bed, she was on her back, stroking her luxurious mound of pubic hair. This was the 70s and bush was in. Her thatch was thick and dark and I could just make out her fingers dancing over her clit. I scooted my body in between her legs and kissed her fingers. I sucked one of them into my mouth and she whispered, “Eat me.”

I put one hand under that wonderfully equine ass and used the other to hold the hair away from her clit. I kissed her on the erect clit and she began to mumble. As I licked it from side to side her mumbling increased and got more intense. I could not make out what she was saying, but it seemed to be positive feedback. I then began to lick up and down and I heard and audible “Oh, God,” and increased the tempo and pressure of that technique. I managed to get my hand into a position to stick my thumb in her pussy as the edge of my forefinger laid directly over her anus. I sawed my thumb in and out in the same rhythm as the up and down licking on her clit, and she grabbed the back of my head with one hand and began pulling on her nipples with the other. She began to move her head back and forth to the same cadence as the licking and the grip on my head became more insistent. I jabbed my thumb in and out at a more furious pace and laid my tongue flat against her clit and moved my entire face back and forth so quickly I feared making myself dizzy. Without warning she exploded.

“Jesus Whatthefuck Christ!” she yelled out as she grabbed a handful of my hair and began to bounce and jerk. I grabbed her ass with both hands and tried to keep my tongue against her clit. Her bucking increased as she just kept moaning “shit, shit, shit…”

A second wave of spasms began to shake her legs and my chin and hand became soaked by the juices from her pussy.

She began breathing hard and stopped shaking. I looked up at her and found her to be looking toward the window with a dazed expression. Her right hand loosened the grip on my hair, and her left hand had pinched her nipple into an angry red marble. She was barely moving by the time I slithered up her body and stuck my cock into her in one enthusiastic thrust.

She snapped her eyes to mine and grinned, grabbed my back in her hands and clicked her tongue like one would encourage a horse. So I rode her. I had never screwed a woman so fast or so hard in my life. She was pretty loose down there, so I found the best friction was deep within her. It was not a piece of art. I wanted a release. Her nails dug into me as she shouted obscenities and she sucked on my nipples and occasionally bit down on them. I called her a slut and she laughed. I yelled the word cunt in her face and she dug her nails deeper into back. I hissed that her cunt was too loose and she spat out that my dick was too small. It was a grudge match to see who could come first.

I won. I screamed “Take that you cunt!” as I poured my spunk into her. It was no ordinary cum. It felt like it came from my toes. My nuts jerked. A dull throb came from somewhere high in my scrotum. The load was massive and dripped out of her as I continued to piston in and out.

“You Bastard!” she screamed back, as she began a climax of her own. I could feel the walls of her cunt clamp down spasmodically on my deflating prick and felt the jerks in her legs and diaphragm. She continued to push against me and urge me into her until her climax ended.

I was spent. Perspiration dripped from my forehead and down my nose. Many sweaty chest hairs were plastered to those wondrous tits of hers. She was grinning and catching her breath. I tried to relieve her by rolling off of her and she held me tight. “You’re not getting away that easy, cowboy,” she said. I stayed inside of her until I completely flaccid, and my poor spent cock slipped out of her along with all of the juices inside of her.

I was moved. She was primal and carnal. She was unlike anyone I had ever laid before. I told her so. She smiled and kissed my cheek. She cooed, “You’re just a baby. You have no idea what is out there in the world, unless you pay attention.”

She finally asked me to get off of her because she needed to pee. I sat on the edge of the bed and I heard the flush. I then heard her hum a bouncy melody as the shower was turned on. The curtain rings slid harshly against the rod. I followed the sound to the shower. I yanked open the curtain, and with soap in her hair, she said, “I wondered if you would join me.” As I stepped into the tub, she tugged at her upswept hair, continued to add shampoo and hot water, and it melted down to past her shoulders. Though I am certain that it was colored (each strand was exactly the same shade as the next) it was a nice shade of blonde. It stood in stark contrast to the heavily dark eyebrows and eyelashes and, of course, her pubic hair.

As she shampooed, I soaped her tits and rolled the lather around on them until her nipples were attentive and erect. I sucked on her tits, and I marveled at how a woman with such an ass and such a bosom could be so tiny everywhere else. She turned around to rinse her hair and face and I got on my knees and began kissing that ass of hers. I knew she was ashamed, and I knew she wished I wouldn’t do it, but I could not help myself. I licked each heavily dimpled cheek and put my face against her crack. I soaped it well and marveled at how the water ran down into the chasm between her cheeks to drain off right between her legs. I was tempted to open her cheeks and explore her anus, but I couldn’t make myself do it. The budding satyr in me knew that it would drive me to intoxication, but the young cowboy in me wondered how it would be received.

She turned to face me and her hands urged me upward. It was her turn to soap and wash me. While I had used the opportunity as foreplay, she seemed intent on getting every nook and cranny clean. She scrubbed under my arms and between the cheeks of my ass. She soaped and stroked on my cock and used the washcloth on my sack and between my legs. She propped one leg up on the edge of the tub and put her hands on my shoulders. I was just hard enough to fulfill her silent wish, so I slipped my hardness into her softness and we gently rocked back and forth as the steam filled the room and the spray splashed against our bodies. I had to keep my knees deeply bent to be at the proper height, and I soon tired, but the session was sweet and clean and devoid of words. I pulled myself from her and stood to stretch my legs, and she got to her knees and sucked me until I came.

It was not a mind-blowing orgasm, but one that seemed like a romantic climax to a session of love-making. Our first had been the violent explosion to end a bout of sex. This was different, much different. As she swallowed this second offering from me and continued to suck gently even as I the hardness went away, I felt myself truly connecting with Zelda. Could I be falling in love? The thought made me shudder and break out into gooseflesh. She stood and kissed me on the chest and said, “You must be freezing. Let’s get you dried off and under the covers. She dried every inch of me so tenderly that it was nearly maternal. I picked up her naked body and she rested her head on my shoulder. I carried to bed, tucked us both in under the blankets and went to sleep.

I awakened to her humming and singing a wordless lullaby. I do not know for how long I slept, but it was still very dark outside. She was sitting against an upturned suitcase, applying makeup in the sink mirror outside of the motel bathroom. Her hair was down and pulled back into a red satin bow. It looked darker when it was wet. She was applying ruby red lipstick to finish off the look. She grinned at her reflection. She had transformed from the cowgirl-mom-next-door into a classic vamp. Her eyeshadow was deep reds and purples, her mascara very dramatic and dark. She was dressed in frilly black lingerie: a black lace corset with her enormous tits straining to spill from the cups, a black garter belt with tiny red bows, and classic black nylons with the seam up the back. She also wore deep red patent leather heels, but no panties. She looked into the mirror again and saw that I was awake and she smiled anew.

I opened up the blankets to offer her a place in bed with me, but, instead, she sauntered over and yanked the bedclothes off into a heap on the floor. My eyes widened, and I turned to flat on my back as she stalked her way into the bed and between my legs. She had not yet touched me, nor said a word, but I had a raging hard-on and she opened her mouth and slowly descended onto it without touching it with any part of her body. When her nose as nearly to my pubic hair, the tip touched the roof of her mouth and she closed her lips tightly. She didn’t suck, but she squirmed her mouth tightly around my cock and then opened it all the way up and let the cock carefully out of her mouth, as meticulously as she had put it in. She pulled back a couple of feet and she started laughing. I then looked down to see a perfect red ring all the way around my cock left by her fresh lipstick.

Needless to say, I felt less like the well-read political science major and more like the unsophisticated rube that I suppose I was. She looked so proud of her handiwork, and I was dumbfounded. She reached to my cock and stroked it a bit and then she began to lick it. It was almost as though she were cleaning it. Her tongue stroked across every surface and probed every ridge. She stroked it with her hand to keep it hard, but she did not suck it. Instead she licked all the way down the length of the bottom and began to lick my scrotum. She seemed to chase the balls around in the sack and delight in the game of tongue-tag. She then nudged my left leg toward the edge of the bed and put her hand under my knee. She gently put pressure under the knee, and I lifted it so that my leg was bent and my foot was resting flat on the bed. This changed her angle of attack and she moved her tongue below my scrotum and even to between my asscheeks. I needed to know. I had to find out what this was all about, so I used the leverage of my bent knee and raised my butt off of the bed to give her a better vantage. She pulled my cheeks apart and dipped her tongue into my anus. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but it was completely foreign. She probed in and out and licked all around the opening and plunged her tongue deeply inside of me again. She pulled out her tongue and I felt her mouth moving and when her tongue touched me again, it was obvious what she had been doing. She had pooled some saliva on the end of her tongue and applied it to my puckered opening. I then felt her ease her finger into my ass and I froze. I was in shock, and the idea of being anally probed seemed not just foreign, but taboo. She pushed her finger in and out, and I felt no discomfort. She turned her finger over and massaged deeply inside of me and I felt a sexual sensation unlike anything I had ever known. As she worked her finger in and out she began to suck my cock. The climax felt like a geyser, and only after six or seven good strokes with her mouth. I had no idea what to do next, but she slipped her finger out of my ass, kissed the head of my prick and laid her head down on my abdomen with my cock barely touching her lips. “Do the same for me, cowboy,” she whispered. We both lied terribly still and quiet. It was in utter contrast to our first bout of fucking just a few hours ago. I stroked her hair, she massaged my knee and thigh and I felt her flutter her eyelids against my limp cock.

“I love you,” I croaked. I didn’t even know her. I was not even sure if Zelda was her real name.

“I know, sweetie. I am trying to decide if I love you, too.” She continued to lie across my legs and hip and I pulled her up to me.

The next hour or so is hard to remember. It was not sharply sexual like our meeting and our first mating. And it was not new and different like so many other things that night. Instead, my memory is almost like it was a motion picture, and I see myself and Zelda as opposed to personally recalling the senses. The memories are always as if filmed in sepia and through a filter that softens the edges. We made love. I gave her what she wanted from me. I remember that we left the lights on, and that I kissed the crepe-like skin of her stretch-marked belly. I kissed the “cottage cheese” on her thighs and ass and I loved it. I did put my tongue in her ass while my fingers ground in and out of her cunt and I remember the cool feel of the nylon stockings wrapped around my hips as we rutted on the floor between the beds. Mostly, I remember falling asleep with my head on her wonderful breasts and swearing to her that I would always be hers.

The morning, however, is indelibly marked in my memory, and has been frequently recalled over the past nearly thirty years. You see, I awoke to a voice: a throaty, cartoonish laugh. I had spent the night with the friend of my Aunt Rhoda. Rhoda arrived after the sun had risen and she and Zelda let me sleep for a bit while the two of them packed their bags and Zelda filled Rhoda in on all the night’s details. At some point (Rhoda has always claimed it was when Zelda described how “petite” my equipment was–Zelda denies that and claims it was when she showed Rhoda the black corset), Rhoda could not contain her zest for life any more, and she laughed a genuine laugh and I woke up. When they saw the shock and embarrassment on my face, they laughed even more.

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