I become more awake as the seconds tick by. I realize my Aunt Kathy is, in fact, stroking my cock; I jump and sit up as the realization hits me. "Shhh...h... easy now, lie back down, relax, it's ok," she says in a soft reassuring voice. I ease back into the reclined position I was sleeping in. I look her in the eyes; I must have a scared expression on my face. She has a calm, reassuring expression. She is cooing, "It's ok, everything is going to be ok," over and over again. I want to say. Josh, with his Southern upbringing, could never accept that she'd had a black lover, and if he was insecure in his manhood after hearing about the eight, nine and ten inch cocks she had confessed to experiencing, the knowledge of Jeremiah's twelve inches would destroy his fragile ego. No, no, no, no! No way was she going to walk into that room. She turned to leave, but Peggy was there suddenly, "Oh no you don't sweetie. You need this Shel. Now get in there and socialize." I can't Peg. I've told. Of course, men loved her wearing short skirts back at high school, and in her mind somewhere, she also found it exciting to put across her legs, kind of hiding or preserving something. Attention made her feel better. I don’t wanna say she had a dirty mind back at high school, but this feeling excited her, physically, she almost felt something between her legs under such situations. She, on the other hand, was a really good little actor, and I’m not saying that just because she was so sexy. She. I will check it later, I thought to myself. I went to the recycling machines and started to put the cans into one of the machines dripping old sticky soda on my hand, the one drawback to recycling cans. I ignored the soda on my hand, knowing that I would wash my hands when I was done. I got the cans done and pressed the receipt button and decided to take a break since I still had bottles and there was a line at the bottle machine. I took my cell phone out, flipping it open with my thumb..