Favorite Aunt – by Trainman5771

Incest story: Favorite Aunt. Author: Trainman5771. My marriage wasn’t much of one. It felt more like a partnership than a marriage. I was on the road a lot to make ends meet while my wife worked part time, being the homemaker and raising our daughter. Needless to say, we both were pretty miserable without being able to spend much time together. The story is including of Fantasy, Consensual Sex, Erotica, Incest, Male / Older Female, Romance theme.

Incest story: Favorite Aunt – Chapter 1: Related History

Author: Trainman5771

Then the unthinkable happened. While traveling through Kansas toward a South Carolina destination, I got a call from my sister that no sister should have to make. My wife and daughter perished in a car wreck caused by a drunk driver. I thought I was living a lonely life before but now….well, needless to say I was now living a nightmare.

I was near the company’s terminal and hauled the load into the yard to drop the trailer and catch the earliest flight home I could. It was the longest, most nerve wracking and depressing day of my life.

After the funeral and a couple of weeks off to take care of the details and such, I reluctantly flew back to pick up my life as a driver. The holidays during the first year are the most depressing. They brought back the fact my family wasn’t there to enjoy those good times with me anymore and the pain reined me in to a near catatonic state.

When I would go back to the house and try to take a break from the road, it always felt empty and lifeless. It was hard to stay more than a couple of days as the memories haunted me. Even after nearly a year and three months had passed, I couldn’t stand to go back any longer. The pain and depression became far too great to bear.

Incest sex story: Favorite Aunt. Author: Trainman5771.

Incest story: Favorite Aunt. Author: Trainman5771.

So on my last home-time I kept a few mementos’, cleaned up the place and hired a realtor to sell it. I told him to take whatever offer would pay it off and any fees and taxes owed. I didn’t care about the money as it probably would be another reminder of what I’d lost. Their lives were priceless and I couldn’t handle having profited from the sale of the house. The house sold in three days.

Now a little more than a year later I’m dealing with the death of my last living grandparent. It wasn’t as much of a shock since she was ill for a long time. It was more of a relief than anything else that she was no longer suffering. When Aunt Jean called to give me the news I was in North Dakota heading to Texas. I wasn’t able to make the funeral and really couldn’t handle much beyond driving.

I had lost my parents as did my wife in one of the worst tornado outbreaks in recorded history before our daughter was born. There seemed to be no end to the bad news. At 46, I felt the loneliest person in the world with nothing to show for the life’s experiences, accomplishments, hopes and dreams I once had.

When Grandma was first becoming ill, I started conversing with Aunt Jean more often after her first couple of emails and a phone call just to see how I was doing. I hadn’t kept in touch since visiting during Christmas one year a few years ago. But since those first conversations and reconnecting, we kept in touch through email.

I always enjoyed talking with her when we happened to have the time. I loved her southern accented voice and couldn’t get enough so I started calling more often. Many of our conversations centered on the good and not so good things that were going on in our lives. After a couple of months, she started suggesting I come and see Grandma at least once more.

I thought that might be a good idea since I had no family of my own anymore and might be the last time I did get to see her. So I scheduled time off to spend with them during July. Aunt Jean was happy I would be coming and we started talking about old times growing up when I visited as a child during Independence Day celebrations.

Aunt Jean had always been my favorite out of the two Aunts I had. She is the last of her immediate family on my dad’s side. As I said, my dad had died. He had a younger brother by two years but died of cancer just before his 15th birthday when Aunt Jean was 11. She was the baby of the family and was only fourteen years old when I was born. Now she was alone. Her kids were living their own lives half way across the country and only occasionally writing or calling.

A month or so ago in one of our conversations, Aunt Jean said the house she was building was just getting the final touches and asked if I could come see her so she could show me around. “Over the river and through the woods…” you might say from where Grandma’s house was. You see, she was able to build the house when Grandma was pronounced incompetent to manage her own affairs.

Her Living Will was enacted by the attorney and power of attorney was handed over to Aunt Jean. One statement in the Will said the attorney was to turn over a safe deposit box she hadn’t known existed. The contents of the box were several documents relating to investments and land nobody knew about and were to be dispersed to the living descendants.

As I said before, Aunt Jean was the last and she wound up with all of it. To her astonishment, buried in the documents was a trust set up over sixty years previous following the war by her parents. Grandpa’s military retirement pay fed the trust automatically and any interest gained was rolled back into the trust if no interest withdrawals were made within thirty days of the disbursement.

For more than sixty years, this trust had been building on itself to take care of her and her two brothers should anything happen to their parents. Now she discovered it all went to her and she found herself thrust into a situation of wealth that changed her life overnight. She could care for Grandma with the best caregivers without worry!

In addition to caring for Grandma, Aunt Jean’s CPA certification and training became invaluable in actively managing the estate and rich investment portfolios she suddenly found herself with. She paid off the debts and liquidated the stale investments and assets. She also reconfigured the trust to build a new self-sustainment trust for her to live off of using current economic models to eventually Will off to her kids, cousins and other extended family members as well as charities and medical research foundations. All told, she was very well off now and lacked for nothing. Almost.

The one thing that I remember very clearly about her was that she always seemed bubbly and happy no matter the situation. I had a crush on her for the longest time growing up. She was only five feet tall, very dark brown hair that she always kept midway down her back. She had cut it to a little longer than shoulder length by the time of the Christmas visit I mentioned. Getting back in touch with her and getting to know her as an adult has been nice. I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Though Aunt Jean was petite and only five feet tall, she sported an attractive 33-23-34 figure with a large B or small C cup bust and might have weighed all of 100 pounds soaking wet. That was how I remembered her when I was much younger. The few times I had visited in my teen years she had always looked good and we had fun driving around in her old Porsche 914 while we blasted down the back roads! In reminiscing about her, I now realize she might very well have been the first woman I fell in love with.

Today, I have those fond memories and decided to take her up on her offer of a grand tour of the new place. I myself have had a couple of years driving my truck without many expenses beyond keeping the truck maintained and a small mortgage I’ll pay off in about thirteen years. I’d saved enough to put money down on a few acres of land and put a house on it near Wilson, NC.

I can park my rig on my land and could make an easy trip to the Outer Banks or up to the mountains when I wanted. I spent a lot of time emailing, texting and talking with Aunt Jean all this time and said I would be down to see her. When I got home I didn’t even go into the house. Instead, I grabbed my pre-packed suitcase that I put together while on the road, climbed down out of the truck, hopped into my Jeep and pointed the nose South toward Georgia.

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