From as early as I could remember every time Uncle Bill visited us he would find a way to get me alone and put his finger in my little crack and rub me. It felt good but I knew it was supposed to be wrong to let anyone touch me down there. That was what I was thinking about as the bus was taking me west from our farm to Calgary.
When the bus finally arrived at the town my aunt and uncle lived in I retrieved my suitcase from the bus driver and walked to the front of the bus station. I saw Uncle Bill standing next to his old Ford pickup on the driver's side. Aunt Grace was sitting in the truck.
Bill ran around and hugged me and picked up my luggage and tossed them into the back of the pickup bed. Grace got out of the truck and hugged me. She ushered me into the truck so that I would be sitting between them. Grace had to slam the door to get it closed.
Aunt Grace was a tiny woman. She was just four feet tall. She had...
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