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One of my earliest memories as a small boy was playing at the bedside of my mother’s best friend‚ who we called Aunt Marie¸ The family legend was Aunt Marie’s parents were mixed¸ I found this easy to believe since she had a magnificent mulatto glow to her skin¸ Aunt Marie was laying in bed with a bad cold as my mother sat next to her talking¸ I was playing at the foot of the bed and neither Mom or Aunt Marie were paying any attention to me when I caught a glimpse of something black out of the corner of my six year old eye¸ As I turned to see what had caught my eye‚ I realized Aunt Marie had thrown the covers off of her legs and was lying there with a white‚ half slip on¸ Maybe this explained why I later developed a fetish for white slips that during the sixties could only be satisfied thumbing thru my grandmother’s True Story magazines and masturbating to the housewifes in half­slips‚ ironing clothes while some man from their past tried to get their middle­aged pussy juices flowing again¸ Anyway back to Aunt Marie who at this time turned to reach something off the nightstand and move her legs so far apart that I could see clear to Chattanooga¸ It’s a shame I was so innocence at the time that I did not realize the splendor of this occassion and if I were more sexually developed would have creamed in my pants¸ I still can’t shake the imagine of how Aunt Marie’s pussy hair was so abundant that it seem to go on forever till it reached her navel¸ After that all my childhood erotic fantasies included fingering Aunt Marie’s luscious pussy since I was not mature enough to know the pleasure in store for me by penetrating her hot‚ cajun pussy with my little‚ boy dick¸ I watched a detective show on TV where a dark haired woman was kidnapped‚ and tied up in an attic¸ The kidnappers placed a small‚ rubber ball in her mouth before putting tape over her lips¸ I found it very exciting to replace the kidnapped woman in my fantasies with my Aunt Marie knowing that I could do anything I wanted to her and she could only grunt and moan like the bound woman on TV¸ These feeling continued to grow each year not finding a release from my immatue organ until one day when I was eleven and dwelling on this sweet picture of my Aunt Marie‚ my BVD’s were drenched by the pleasure she imprinted on my mind¸