You see—the person everyone called Aunt Bessie—Well, I called her Mom.The Winter of 1938Winters in the Midwest are always bitter cold. That winter...we were eking out a hard-bitten existence. Fortunately, all summer long we had cut and stacked firewood down one side of our old house, so we stayed warm and cozy.In addition, my mother, like every other year, had spent the summer canning hundreds of Mason jars filled with beans, tomatoes, peaches, and other items.Anyway, on a bitter cold windy. She put her hands back on the work bench and I was pressed my crotch against her round buttocks, feeling her firm ass cheeks through the thin fabric of her dress.I lifted up her sexy dress and slipped my hand over her small cotton thong. Feeling her ass and then moving my hand around to the front I slipped her thong off to her calves.I rubbed her pussy lips as she moaned with passion. “I have often fantasied about this” She said. After a few minutes of rubbing her pussy she said “I think I am. This was a little game they played. She knew well and good that he didn't mind. They had visited the children for this specific purpose, because she had wanted to get a 'thing' together with young Steve. And after the way he had screwed their daughter-in-law half-silly in Alaska while their son Ronald was away at work, he owed it to her. He didn't mind at all.Her body strained and worked with his hands as they worked over her. He rubbed her buttocks in teasing little circles, gently pressing. If we survived today there was only more torture to look forward to.When the first stroke hit my buttocks there was a great roar as my genitalsbounced with the movement of my body. That soon subsided as the crowd realisedthere was no more potential in me for giving them amusement. The next few hourswere a blur. I was in a daze throughout the rest of the flogging hardly knowingwhat was happening? just feeling the lashbite and hearing myself and my partner crying out as we were torture more.