They are very close despite the age difference, and I honestly had never looked at Dawn as anything more than a k** sister myself.Anyway from Florida we took a small 12 seat prop plane to this tiny resort Island looking forward to a week of snorkeling, tennis, and lots of sun. There were 6 other people on the flight, a couple in their sixties, 2 business men, and two other guys who appeared to be from the Islands themselves.As we gathered our luggage, the three of us were the last to head into the small customs area. The 8 guards that were working there were all rather large and very dark black men in Khaki uniforms with short pants. Each had a sidearm and blackjack. The guards were all smiles as we entered and they just seemed to be laughing and joking a little too much. As we go in it was obvious that these guys were either drinking or smoking dope, but you could see they were all slightly high.As the "captain" asked me basic questions about what was in our luggage, how long we. I'm home," Dad yelled.Mom replied, "We're in the kitchen. Come and get a cookie, dear." She glared at me while Dad hung up his coat but as soon as he entered the kitchen her eyes softened and she cooed, "They're good, aren't they, Rob?"I turned my face away to hide the red mark where Mom had slapped me."Yeah, they're great. Did Maria wash my blue jeans?" I shuffled over to the stairs and went downstairs to the laundry room, needing to hide the hardon that, despite the slap, refused to die.After dinner, Mom made a point of leaning with her back to the arm of the loveseat, ostensibly to shed more light onto her book, but I knew better. She stretched her legs out in my direction, one crossed over the other, her foot in constant motion, bouncing slowly up and down. She changed legs frequently, first the left over the right, then right over left, then back, working the short skirt way up on her legs. Each time Mom changed legs, she lifted the upper one high, exposing the underside of her.
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