A Contract on Aunt Doris, Part 1 – The Job
As I jogged past the driveway I saw her under the large attached carport, struggling with the recycle bin. “Let me help with that,” I said in my helpful Midwest tone. She turned to me with a slightly exasperated look on her face – her silver hair cut in a long pageboy, blue eyes, full lips, high cheekbones with the sprinkle of wrinkles and lines showing her age. She was wearing a grey sweatshirt that could barely contain the big tits swaying underneath the cotton material. I saw a hard nipple pushing against the fabric. “Thank you”, she gasped, a little out of breath. “No one in this fucking neighborhood will lift a finger for anyone.” I wasn’t surprised to hear this, the house was at the end of the dead end. Her neighbors were …