Aunt Ruth’s House Pt. 01

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JUNE 27TH – It was a blazing 95 degrees out as a pulled up to my Aunt Ruth’s house. My windows were down, hair up in a ponytail, music blasting from my brand new speakers. I was to have a new home with my aunt until further notice.

To make a very long, personally aggravating story short — I needed a place to stay. My mother’s house was getting foreclosed on, and her and I weren’t getting along much over the last year or two. I was paying her rent, and yet she still asked me to move out all the time, saying I don’t contribute enough. When she was forced to file for bankruptcy and sell the house as is, I opted not go to with.

My Aunt Ruth lives about 2 hours away. It’s a far drive, and now going to work and back every day will be almost 40 minutes, but I knew I’d be comfortable here, despite the turmoil. My Aunt Ruth was recently divorced from our estranged Uncle Will — the rumor amongst family members is that he was a notorious cheater, and she tried to get back at him by stealing his money. I never found out the truth, but I always got along with Aunt Ruth because her younger age (Uncle Will was in his 50s, she just turned 40, I’m 22).

Upon leaving my mother’s house, Aunt Ruth was the first person I asked because I knew she had a spare room upstairs. She was happy to take me in indefinitely as long as I paid rent and went 50/50 with her on keeping the house in shape. This sounded A-okay by me, and since she has half custody of her son, my younger cousin Greg, I’d see some other family every now and then. It was to be a sudden change if there ever was one, but I was looking forward to it.

I pulled up in the driveway to see her garage open, but no Aunt Ruth in site. I honked, but no response. I tried again still to no avail, so I texted her. Almost immediately, I saw her emerge from the back gate — she was wearing denim shorts and a bikini top, pink with black polka dots.

At the age of 40, Aunt Ruth was smack dab in the middle between still looking young and approaching middle aged. This was attributable largely to her many, many tattoos, tendency to dress in mostly back “rock music”-like clothing, and her somewhat shorter hair, which she usually curls upward in a pin-up style. Here, I watched her emerging from the backyard in a bathing suit top and I noticed for the first time how large her chest is. They jiggled like a water balloons and she skipped over to my car, bare foot on scolding concrete. Her build, somewhere between being athletic and having a bit of a belly, was the perfect frame for these bouncers.

“Hiiiii! Sorry I missed you. I’m in the back about to lay out by the pool.” Aunt Ruth said as she approached my driver’s side, arms stretched out for a hug. I looked at my watch as I hugged her — 10:45 A.M. The wire-frame bikini top fabric was the only barrier between her bare chest and my then sleeveless shirt.

“That’s okay.” I greeted her in return. “Happy to be finally be here. Should I take my stuff in?”

“Yeah, take your stuff in. I’ll help you.”

I popped the trunk to expose my absolutely bursting rear storage full to the brim with overstuffed suitcases and bags. My aunt helped me carry them inside and up the stairs.

Her guest room was lovely — a large bed, a good amount of walking space, and a perfect-sized dresser for my TV. She then showed me the lovely bathroom on the opposite side of the house, but I didn’t need a house tour — I’d been here before many times. This was the house we’d come to every Thanksgiving and Christmas for family gatherings.

“I’m gonna start unpacking. Thank you so much for the help. And thanks again for letting me stay here, Aunt Ruth.” I said as I turned back around towards my new bedroom.

“Oh, no, please. Unpack later. Let’s catch up. Come to the pool with me. Your bring your bathing suit?” she replied.

“Yeah, I have it somewhere! That sounds good.”

Moments later I rummaged quickly through my packed goods for my swim trunks and swiftly got into them, snagged a towel from the restroom closet and headed to the backyard to meet my aunt.

The first thing that caught my eye was the pool — not the biggest ever, but the water was clear enough to see all the way through the bottom and the sun reflected off the surface like a shiny steel rail.

Immediately to my right was Aunt Ruth, slipping her fingers into the waistband of her unbuckled denim shorts. Just as I looked in her direction, her backside facing me, she bent over and slipped out of them, showing her bikini-clad bottom. It was one of those bikinis with a really small back side and I was looking at at least a quarter cheek on each side. It was all black with a pink rim to match the polka-dot top.

Aunt Ruth stood up as she turned around and smiled at me, folding her shorts up into a little square. I noticed more tattoos on her upper thighs that I hadn’t seen before.

I commented on what appeared to be a pointillism owl on her right side near her waist: “Is that owl new? Never seen it before.”

“Yeah, I got it a couple months ago. Like Ankara bayan escort it?”

“Looks neat.”

“There’s uh, chairs over by the shed if you’re going to join me.” She pointed out.

I took my shirt off to get used to the heat before waltzing over to the shed and grabbing myself a long, white lay-down chair.

When I returned Aunt Ruth had let the straps down on her bikini top. She laid on her back, and the two cups that previously held in her large breasts now gently rested on top of them.

I readied my chair next to her and we both soaked in the sun for a little bit. Now was the chance to catch up. She told all about her estranged relationship with Uncle Will and the big birthday party they just had for my cousin Emmie’s 18th (sadly I couldn’t make it — I had to work). I told her about my ex girlfriend and all the problems we had. It was nice. I hadn’t bonded with Aunt Ruth this much in a while.

During the end of our conversation she sat up. While she boosted her self up she held her bikini top to her chest. I could have sworn, for a second, that I saw a nipple — even just for the equivalent of a movie frame.

We spent the rest of the day catching up and cooking together. While we cooked, I remained shirtless in my board shorts and she stayed in her denim shorts and bikini top. I couldn’t stop watching them jiggle as she was shaking pepper into our stew. I knew in this moment that I had made the right choice regarding my move.


Monday morning. I awoke at an early morning hour to get to work, remembering my drive was now almost twice as long. I heard music blaring from downstairs — blaring loud enough to vibrate my floor. It was 7 A.M. What in the hell?

I came down the stairs in my ragged night tank top and boxer shorts, morning wood just on its way down. My aunt must have heard my steps. She shouted “Good morning!” and I followed her voice into the living room.

I turned the corner to see her sweating up a storm, in the middle of a mad exercise, swinging her arms, jogging in place with knees kicking all the way up to her chest. The windows were open, the fan was on, and the stereo was bumpin’ some old school late 90s/early 2000s grunge shit. She was wearing a tight-fitting workout get-up: all black yoga pants with netted see-through material spiraling around the legs all the way down, and a solid, black jog bra. The job bra did a serviceable job at containing the breasts jiggle as she bounced up and down in her place.

“Going to work?” she asked without looking at me.

“Yes.” I replied loudly.

“There’s fresh coffee in the pot if you want some before you head out. Have a good day!”

“I’ll grab some. Thanks.”

So I did, and I was off to work quickly, trying hard not to think about my aunt’s sweaty body all day.

Reader, let me tell you — never take a job at a call center. This was approaching the end of my 2nd year as a customer service representative for Sony, and becoming screamed at by angry customers, being put on hold for endless minutes and having “Sorry” and “I understand you’re upset” as part of my daily vocabulary have all become part of the routine. To say I’m sick of it would be the understatement of the century.

Today there was a situation that I feared would get me fired. Long story short, I got into a screaming match on the phone with the customer and despite my best efforts, I let an expletive slip in.

I wasn’t fired — but I was reemed out by boss and sent home early for the day.

When I arrived back at the house, I walked in the door with no Aunt Ruth in sight. I heard her from afar when I closed the door. “Andrew, is that you?!”

“Yes, I’m home early!” I yelled from the front entrance taking my shoes off.

“Stay there!”

Suddenly, I see a blurry shape of skin-colored blurred lines run from the kitchen, across the hallway into the bathroom with water trinkling in a trial behind it. Aunt Ruth was in the kitchen….and she was naked. She ran too fast for me to see anything, but I could tell.

“Why are you home early?!” she yelled from the bathroom.

“Bit of a situation at work. Nothing too bad. Sorry, would you like me to leave?!”

“No, no! Just wait a second.”

Moments later Aunt Ruth emerged from the bathroom, tightening the belt on her bathrobe as she walked towards me. “What happened at work?” she asked.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I said.

“Please. No one comes home 3 hours into their shift for nothing.”

“It’s nothing. I promise.”

“It’s not nothing. Come on, I’ll make you some bacon and eggs and we’ll talk about it. You didn’t eat before you left, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

We set off towards the kitchen.


I had to ask.

“…do you usually walk around naked when you’re home alone?”

Aunt Ruth laughed as she tightened her robe again. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I just took a shower. I like to air dry sometimes Escort bayan Ankara while I make breakfast.

I laughed back.

She continued. “I hope it wasn’t too traumatizing.”

“Ha ha, don’t worry, Aunt Ruth I didn’t see anything.”

She sat across from me at the table while we ate our late breakfast and I talked about my awful day. The entire time I watched water drip from the ends of her wet hair into her slightly displayed cleavage, and stared at her freckled thighs when she stuck them out from under robe and crossed them. If I was under the table I could have had a fur burger for breakfast instead.

The following Tuesday to Thursday, I became aware of my Aunt’s morning routine, and with it, threw out my alarm clock. Every morning at 7 AM she does her exercises (now I know what keeps her in such great shape as she approaches middle age), then showers, then makes breakfast, then sits at the computer until the middle of the afternoon. Since last year, she’s had the opportunity to work from home as an attorney’s personal accountant. Other than occasional trips to the bank and the office, she spends most of her time at home, and usually heads to bed early.

I was getting used to things. Leftover breakfast when I came home. Quiet time into the evening while took work calls and filled out paperwork, followed a bit of friendly family bonding in the evening before we both shipped off to bed. Usually we watched a movie or just sat around with some beers and chatted the night away.

Then came Friday. As my Aunt’s blasting L7 CD woke me up from downstairs, I awoke to a from my boss: “Call me when you wake up.”

I called him. What he told me was like a verbal punch to the Adam’s Apple. I had been suspended for 2 weeks with pay. Apparently, there’s been a lot of complaints and the company believes I’m too “aggressive” with the customers. I was furious, angry, enraged — every synonym you could think of — but I had to keep my cool. At least I was getting paid, and at least I would be spending quality time with Aunt Ruth.

I didn’t even bother to put on a shirt walking downstairs. I stomped down the steps in pajama bottoms and headed straight to the kitchen.

I looked at Aunt Ruth as I passed — she was wearing a new workout fit I never saw before. A white, raggedy t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and no bra underneath, and on the bottom, polka dot blue booty shorts, some of the tightest, shortest I’ve ever seen.

It took her a minute to notice me. “What’s up? No work today? I thought you were off Sundays and Wednesdays.”

There was no point in beating around the bush — I told her the situation. For a moment, she turned my mother, and gave me a speech about controlling my anger and how she was disappointed.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m just as upset about it.” I replied.

The exchange went on for several more minute in the kitchen while I made some coffee. At the end, she gave me a proposition: “I think what you need to get your anger out is a good workout.”

“What?” I questioned.

“Come on. Come workout with me. It’ll make you feel better.” She propositioned again.

“Oh…jeez. Thanks, but I haven’t worked out in a long time. Probably been 2 years at least.”

“Good! That’s more reason to start! Come on, I’ll set up a mat for you. Go get changed. It’s a perfect way to start the day.”

“I don’t really have any work out clothes.”

“You don’t have any basketball shorts or anything like that?”

“No. I’m not really an athlete.”

“Alright. Just wear your boxers and a tank top. That’ll be fine.”

I was confused, yet excited by this suggestion, but obviously, I had no objections.

About 5 minutes later after I finished my coffee I might my aunt downstairs in a fresh pair of boxers and grey sleeveless. She had set up a mat for me just a few feet away from hers.

I took position, and she slowly guided me through a myriad of yoga-like workouts.

“This doesn’t seem like the regular workout routine you’ve been doing. Switching things up?” I asked with my head squeezed below my knee.

“I have a rotation of regular exercises mixed with yoga stretches. It gives me a good mix of working muscles and relaxing them, and I like the variety.” Aunt Ruth replied.

As we worked our way through the spin-the-wheel of difficult yoga positions, I lost count of how many times I got a big ol’ eyeful of sideboob through the cut off sleeves of her shirt. When we did one called the “Seated Forward Fold” I swore one of them was gonna pop out the side.

Not gonna lie, though — it was fun, and I needed it. She was right in suggesting it’d be a good way to workout my anger from my being suspended, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t putting on a little weight that I would like to get rid of.

After our workout of roughly an hour and change, we were both drenched scalp to toenails in sweat, and we both stunk. My boxers had become heavy, and Aunt Ruth’s white shirt had become wet like a damp rag, but not enough to see Bayan escort Ankara through.

I told her she can shower first. She was quick. “Your turn!” she told me as she exited the hallway in her bathrobe.

I didn’t have a robe, and when I finished my shower, I didn’t know where she was. My best bet was wrap a towel around myself and head upstairs. After all, I couldn’t put my sweaty boxers back on.

It was a pain going up the steps — my body hadn’t been pushed like that in ages, and all that time sitting in the chair in front of the computer at the call center has essentially turned my muscles into Jell-O. I moaned and groaned working my feet upwards.

“Feeling sore?” Aunt Ruth asked I passed her open doorway.

I turned suddenly. She was wearing a bikini — a simple design this time, plain green, no frills, no design. It was a modest one — didn’t show off too much cleavage, and it covered the butt way more than the last one.

“You have no idea.” I said, adjusting my towel.

“That means you did good. What hurts? Your legs?

“The undersides of my knees are killin’ me. And my stomach too.”

“That’s the abdominal stretches. Those are great for you. Let it hurt — it’ll go away.”

I grunted and moved closer to my room.

“I’m going outside to tan for a little bit if you want to join. Otherwise, I’ll be in later. Lots of phone calls to make today.”

I opted not to join, as tempting as it was. My body was too sore. I simply tore my towel off, put my fan on max and splayed out on my bed until the soreness died down.

I made dinner quietly tonight while Aunt Ruth was in the kitchen making work calls. She looked so pretty sitting there with her hair up, being official and making business calls in her pajamas

Our movie night for Friday night was Office Space. She picked it on purpose to make light of my suspension, but to me it was like a documentary. I was angry at first, but the more we sat, and the more we drank, the more I laughed.

The next morning.

I awoke to a strange sound — silence. No music. No bumping speakers and vibrating walls. In fact, as I got up and looked around the house, there was no Aunt Ruth to be found anywhere. She must be sleeping in today.

I crept upstairs and peeped her door open. I was right. I found out too that she sleeps in her natural state — her back was turned to the door, but the blanket sliding down her waist, exposing the top of her crack, and the sides of her breasts sticking out ever so slightly from the edges of her torso. With the single streak of light striking the room, it was like an old baroque painting of a nude woman.

I took the quiet morning to myself to make so breakfast and catch up on Westworld. Around 10:30 Aunt Ruth finally came down the stairs.

“I smell pancakes!” she yelled from down the hall.

“Good morning! Help yourself!” I replied with my feet up on the couch.

I looked back to greet her. She was wearing super short shorts — almost like cut-off men’s boxers — and a baggy old Metallica shirt.

“No workout this morning?” I asked. “I was expecting to wake up to my walls shaking again.”

“I have a 5-day routine. I like to sleep in on the weekends.” She replied.

I got up and walked to the kitchen to dispose of my empty plate.

“I’m almost disappointed. As much pain as I was in yesterday, I really enjoyed getting some exercise. Even if it was just yoga.” I said as I dumped my remnants in the trash.

“You want to?” she asked as she prepped her own plate. “We can. Not my normal routine but we can get some in. Let me eat my breakfast and we’ll get stared!

“You sure? I don’t wanna bother you if you had other plans.”

“No, no. I got nothing goin’ today at all. Not even any work. Just gimmie a few.”

“Wow, thanks. I appreciate it. Can we do regular workouts instead of yoga?”

She looked out the window. “Seems a little hot today for a regular workout but if you want to…”

About 10 minutes later we met in the living room. This time she let me pick the music. I went the Kendrick’s To Pimp A Butterfly — front to end. I came down in my boxer and tank top like last time and she came down wearing an all blue fit — a well-fitted job bra and tight-fighting yoga pants to go with. She opened one of the windows to let the heat out.

We started with some high-knee jogging in place, followed by push ups, then some crunches, then some taking turns on the exercise ball.

We had been going for about 20 minutes now, and it was beginning to get warm. Her opening the window hadn’t proved very effective, as we were both already drenched. My back was covered in sweat, so I flipped my shirt over my head and threw it to the side.

“Oh my god, is it blazing in here, isn’t it?” Aunt Ruth observed.

“Yeah, sorry. I had to.” I replied.

“No, you’re fine. It’s crazy in here.”

We continued, starting some side planks, but then came the jumping jack. She had developed her own custom jumping jacks that involved turning 180 degrees every 4th jump. It was a surprising way to stay in sync and keep it from getting monotonous. I watched her breasts bounce upon down like paddle balls on paddles inside her binding, fitted top.

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