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with incredible self-esteem issues; it was completely new to me. And it was a look I would enjoy for many, many years. Sadly it's a look I haven't seen in a long time. But it wasn't the look that reeled me in. Even as great as it was to be the recipient of that, it was something else. Actually, it was three things— three things that my youth and inexperience were hopelessly overmatched against. It seems silly now and I hate to admit it, but yes, I was mesmerized by a great family, great spaghetti sauce and a great ass.
    You see, I was born into a family that wasn't all that close, forced to eat sauce from a jar and I've always been partial to a great ass. My family consists of a mother, only one other sibling, a sister, and of a father who suffered from mental illness. My parents divorced when I was eleven, just after one of my father's many regular and sometimes embarrassingly eventful nervous breakdowns.
    When my mother had finally had enough, she filed for divorce and remarried about a year later. Because my sister and step-father didn't exactly get along, my sister soon left to live with my father. We didn't have any extended family living nearby, so I had no idea of what a close family was actually like.
    Within the first week I met Emily, I was invited to their weekly Sunday dinners. A huge Italian spread complete with her large extended family. Her parents along with three sisters and one brother would all be around the table with aunts, uncles and grandparents. Sitting there for hours, we would enjoy the incredible food and great company. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. And I'm not saying her family wasn't crazy— because most families are. They're just nutty, but in a good way and close to one another in a way that I had never before experienced.
    The sauce was truly amazing, a secret family recipe slow cooked all day with delicious meatballs and tender melt-in-your mouth London broil, it was literally to die for. The sauce was so good, you could eat it like soup. Served with fresh Italian bread, eggplant parmesan, and on special occasions, amazing cheese ravioli from a little store in the neighborhood, it was the best food I'd ever eaten.
    But enough about the food— from the moment I laid eyes on Emily in that tiny little brown skirt and the way it hugged her adorable ass, I had to talk to her. I soon discovered there was an intelligent, funny, perky girl to complement my attraction to that skirt. Then, weeks later, after seeing what was under that skirt, those pastel colored satin string bikini panties covering her perfectly rounded cheeks, I was hooked. Clearly in over my head, I was powerless to resist the perfect storm of family, sauce and adorable ass.
    The Sunday dinners slowed in frequency over the years to the point where, for a least the last ten, we would get together only on major holidays. The change in frequency was a product of distance and life and kids, of which her siblings each had a few. Emily's adorable ass is still pretty cute, although, honestly after twenty plus years, it's just not the same, but I can't fault her because, for that matter, neither is mine. That leaves me with the sauce— the one true constant in my life. It's basically all I've had to look forward to for the last decade and now all I have left is one more small container of it in the freezer. Maybe I'll hold onto it.
    Emily and I fell hard for one another and were engaged nine months after we met, a few months before we graduated from college. We were married fifteen months later and for the first couple years everything was perfect. We each got decent jobs and bought a townhouse as we saved money for our future. Seven years later we bought this large house, Emily quit her job and we set out to get her pregnant. Keeping the condoms in the drawer for the first time ever, we enjoyed the hell out of each other. Doing it with purpose, but with intense passion as well, the sex was carefree and hot. It took about