Aunty led me by my hand out of the store. We didn't buy any things.We went to the women rest room. Aunty went in first to check then she signaled me. ...I went in and we locked ourselves in the one of the cubicles.We kissed there passionately."I wanted to do this since I saw you." I said to her."You should have told me earlier. Even I like you." She replied hoarsely. Her voice was husky and her breathings became heavier.We again started kissing and I brought my hands to her huge breasts. I. It was a gorgeously done nude work, the subject of the painting gloriously free of inhibitions as she lounged upon a hillside of lush green grass beneath a flowering tree. The colors were so vibrant, it seemed to be a photograph instead of an 18th century painting. She could almost feel the slight breeze that would be rustling through the delicate pink blossoms of the tree. She could feel the warm rays of sunlight glistening off of the woman’s soft, luscious breasts. She could feel the tender. "You've probably never seen one when it was — ahh —erect," I said."Oh, no, I've seen my father's," she said. "On the island, we all were often naked together." Yes, but he probably wasn't — aroused," I offered again. At least I hoped he hadn't been."Oh, but when my father and mother did it," she said. "When they made love. Sometimes I would see." Oh. Okay." So he was -- what do you call it? He was 'aroused, ' But yours -- oh my!"It was definitely time for me to retreat. "Excuse me Sally, but. My mom appeared to love me but she was always too busy doing her rich bitch things. That's what all the girls my age called their mothers and most of their older sisters. It wasn't meant to be a bad thing, because that's what all of them were hoping to become, you could say they were all in training. No, rich bitch was a lifestyle. It included days at the country club, with drinks starting at lunchtime, unless there were bloody Marys or screwdrivers available earlier. For many of them, there.