The next thing I knew, she had actually put her hand on my butt.I froze. I'd been caught. I couldn't look at her; couldn't even look up. I stood very ...till, looking down at my feet, the soap still stinging my eyes; though the tears that came weren't from the soap, of course. But in the shower, she wouldn't see the tears. She wouldn't hear me cry, either. I'm a quiet crier. Living with Daddy taught me that, and I can honestly say that he NEVER heard me cry. Big girls don't cry. All my tears are. Thanks for your comments on my earlier post. People who are new to this story, kindly go through my earlier post so that you wouldn’t find out of the world here.Ok coming back to the story after that weekend, me and my aunty have had lots of sexual encounters at her guest house. Once she told me about her fantasy of getting fucked in front of her husband but again that should be kind a she getting fucked so that she wouldn’t have any problems with her married life in future.She doesn’t want to. More

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