Still, somehow, Mildred kept gaining access to generous quantities of alcohol. Each morning, while her mother still lay sleeping off her overindulgence from the night before, Aunt Clara would scour the house, finding and disposing of hidden caches of booze. These caches were four to eight ounce bottles, that had all been refilled with cheap vodka, which seemed to be Mildred's preferred libation. She apparently liked it straight, and, three or four ounces, when taken over an hour's time, was sufficient to keep her feeling no pain whatsoever. Apparently that was her goal too, to feel no pain. This failure of Clara's, not being able to cut off, or even curtail, her mother's drink supply, according to my Uncle Bunny, was driving Clara to distraction.On the weekends, throughout all of August and September, Shirley and I managed to play at least one round of golf together. Mama had become friendly with Mrs. Jones, and she had somehow managed to clear the path for Shirley and me to be. As I walked towardthe den even over the din of the television I couldhear sounds like someone was sick. I knew that Jerryhad been drinking beer most of the day and figured hewas sick from the beer so, wanting to help I rushedinto the den.Was I ever wrong, on the sofa my there was brotherstretched out, jeans and boxers at his knees with hisenormous pole of flesh grasped in his hand as he pumpedaway. I inadvertently gasped loudly enough to be heardand he looked up. I expected him to cover up inembarrassment, but he did no such thing, he just gaveme an evil smile and beckoned me to come closer but Iturned on my heels quickly heading for the safety of myroom. I just pushed my door shut and threw myself facedown on my bed and began to sob. I never heard a thing,but suddenly I was forcefully rolled onto my back andbeing held down and straddled just under my breasts. When I opened my eyes all I could see was a mass ofpubic hair with his enormous rigid cock only inchesfrom my face. “Do.
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