I picked mum up from the nursing home on Saturday morning as I did every month. It was what my role as older son was - according to the family, anyway. Before we left, the matron spoke to me and told me that mum’s dementia was so advanced that she was living very much in the past. I said I knew as, for the past few months, she had referred to me as Robert, which was my father’s name. Then again, mum was now 68 and it had been not unexpected. She’d been in the home for five years now and apart from my monthly visits, no one else from the family called to see her. Dad had died fifteen years back and my brother and sister never called apart from at Christmas. She was, I knew, too much trouble for them. Me? Well, I guess I felt a sense of duty to her. After all, she was my mother.
I live about twenty miles away from the home in a small house in a countryside part of England. It’s a lovely, quiet place and - as a bonus - is private in that no one bothers you if you don’t bother them. I’d chosen it after my divorce as being both out of the way as I just wanted to be on my own after that episode. As we drove home, mum kept asking me questions, again calling me by my father’s name. I just responded automatically, as it didn’t make any difference for me to correct her about my own name and the fact I was her son and not her husband. Besides, there was no harm in it and anyway, I didn’t mind. Mum enjoyed the weekends, I think, and what was the harm in pandering to her anyway? She asked where we were going and what we were going to do and I said home, just the two of us for the weekend. She was quiet for a short while and then she asked what day it was.
“Saturday.” I said and thought no more of it. Mum nodded and, not looking at me, said that she supposed I was going to want her to do “afternoon delight” ... I looked at her, mystified. Was this something to do with her dementia? Gently, I asked her what she meant.
“Oh Robert! You know. Upstairs.”
“Upstairs for what?” I said.
She tutted and shook her head, not looking at me as she spoke.
Anne was nervous...
Frightened was more like it. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest with a moshpit tempo.
But still, she didn’t move, hidden like she was in her brother’s closet, peering into the dim room at the writhing forms on the bed.
She couldn’t move now even if she wanted to. It was a new thrill coursing through her adolescent body, a combination of fear and arousal that made her knees shake, and her breath shallow.
Marc had sent her to bed soon after Beth had knocked on the door. Anne had protested, arguing that their parents would have let her stay up another half-hour, but Marc was adamant.
Of course, Anne knew what her older brother was up to. He was going to make out with Beth, give her hickeys, and didn’t want her around causing a distraction. That’s when she thought of the plan to hide in his closet.
I’d taken my shower and was sitting at my desk in my pajamas finishing up some school work before going to bed when the Old Man rapped on the door and then stuck his big, square head inside my room without waiting for me to respond. He never waited. He’d just bang on the door a couple times with his ham sized hand and then open it. I couldn’t even indulge in my favorite hobby, jacking-off, when he was home.
“Come down to the den,” he ordered. “I have a few things I want to talk to you about.” Then he left.
I figured it was another review of my duties. He was supposed to leave for Vietnam in two days and he’d made out lists of the stuff I was supposed to do during the year he was gone. It was all there on the corner of my desk. Sheets of duties. He’d had his secretary at the base type up for him. There was a list of daily duties like clean my room, take out the trash, help Mom with the dishes and make sure the house was locked up before going to bed, and there were weekly duties like mow the grass and clean the garage, and there were monthly duties like trim the hedge and check the oil and tire pressure in the car, and there were even seasonal duties like winterize the car and fertilize the lawn. In addition to all those duties there was also a sheet of Do’s and Don’ts. Do be home by ten on week nights and eleven on weekends. Don’t date more than one night a week, etc., etc.
In the days preceding his departure we had been periodically reviewing these lists, ‘directives’, as he called them, to make sure I completely understood them. Of course I understood them! What was there to understand? You’d have thought I was six instead of sixteen and had an IQ in the single digits.
Her education at Gracely House unleashed desires that Gwen had never known.
Shortly after returning home to Markham Hall, she felt alone and increasingly horny.
She tried to satisfy herself with her fingers in bed or in the woods, but that was only a temporary solution. Her desire for the hard thrusting of a man between her legs was growing.
Thus it was with surging hormones and above-average curiosity that she knocked at her mother's bedroom door. "Come to my room at 10 o'clock," Mrs. Markham said at breakfast that morning. "I'll be waiting for you."
Gwen knocked, uncertain what awaited.
She heard her mother's voice. "Come in."
Turning the knob and pushing inward, she could see nothing. She closed the door and stepped fully into the room. As she did, the first thing she saw wasn't her mother; it was her brother Thad, two years her senior.
He stood facing her, completely naked. His prick stood up proudly and was so red that it had obviously been stimulated just before she arrived.
Although it was not early morning, it was not late either when Elaine heard the doorbell ring. This was a very nice upscale neighborhood, gated and secure. Therefore she wondered, who could be at the door, she was not expecting anyone. And she was basically naked under her robe. Elaine had just placed her coffee cup in the sink and was on her way into the shower when the doorbell rang.
Thinking to herself that nobody other a neighbor lady could be at her door, Elaine decided to answer it, just in case one of her friends needed something. Moving quickly through the living room to the huge foyer, Elaine paused only briefly before opening the door without peeking through the peep site.
There at the entry was a young man, maybe sixteen years old at most, he was well dressed and looked very clean cut, but he was black, very black. He was medium height, well built, maybe a football player type, and dressed in today's bright baggy shorts with matching blue and golf top, you know, that shinny stuff.
IT was the first day of the school holidays. Gemma yawned and turned over in her bed. She'd been going out with Tom for four weeks now, and last night they'd had sex for the first time. Gemma had lost her virginity a couple of months earlier on holiday in Spain, and last night had been the third time she'd had sex. And it had been the third time it hadn't lasted very long. Tom had only lasted about five minutes before shooting his load into her. She wondered how long it would be before she had the pleasure of an orgasm.
Gemma was sixteen. She was about 5ft 6, with long curly brown hair and a slim, sexy figure. She hadn't really thought much about sex before she went to Spain. Her parents had become friendly with another couple and Gemma had ended up in bed with their son. Although he hadn't lasted long on either occasion, she had enjoyed the sensations. The previous week, after reading a girlie magazine, she'd decided to shave her pussy. Tom had certainly liked it, perhaps too much she thought.
She looked over at her clock - it was 09.30. Tom had left her feeling quite horny and she found that her hand was stroking the inside of her thigh as she thought about it. Tom had fingered her a few times since they'd been going out, but masturbation was something she'd never done herself. She let her finger slip across onto her smooth pussy. She liked the feeling of it shaved, and slowly stroked the smooth skin. She lay there for about five minutes, rubbing herself and thinking about the night before. She was now really feeling horny and couldn't resist rubbing her index finger across her clit. She let out a soft moan as the sensation sent of tingle through her body. She rubbed up and down, feeling her pussy start to moisten. Engulfed in pleasuring herself, she slid her finger into her hole. "Mmmm," she thought, "That feels good." She pushed her finger in and out and worked into a steady rhythm. Her pussy was moist now and her finger slid in easily. She rocked her hips back and forth in time. It felt wonderful and she concentrated on the wonderful feelings taking over her body. Desperate to fully pleasure herself, she stuck another finger in. Her breathing intensified and her pace quickened. Her pussy was wet and she could feel what she hoped was her first orgasm starting to build. She stepped up the pace and moaned softly with every stroke. The excitement of fucking herself was taking over her and she added a third finger. She knew she wasn't far away from cumming.
They were one of few black families in the area, but they seemed to get by just fine as the neighbours took a modern attitude toward them. It made it easier for Davis since he lived alone with his son James after his wife had left him. If only the neighbourhood knew about this little misadventure that started when he let his son talk him into having a garage sale. He hated garage sales, he never went to them, and this was the first and last time he ever wanted to hold one. The agreement was that he would help his son get everything together, put out the signs, etc., but he would not have to play nice with the people who came to pick over their trash and treasures. Things were going according to plan on that Saturday morning, until about 11 a.m. By then, most of the early birds had come and gone, and things were a little slow, so he was surprised when James came into the house and asked for his help.
His son told him that there was a young lady outside who needed some help. She wanted to buy one of the bicycles they had for sale, but it was not in perfect condition and she was worried it wouldn't make the ride home.
Davis went out to the garage where he first saw Lisa, not knowing that his life had just changed. His first view of her was from behind as she was bending over looking through a box of miscellany. Since it was a warm day, she was wearing a tank top and some tight white shorts, and he could see that she had a very cute bottom, and some nice, trim legs. When she straightened up and turned around, he saw that she was probably in that hard-to-define middle teens group, perhaps somewhere between 16 and 18. She wasn't the prettiest girl around, but certainly qualified as "cute", especially with her long black hair in a pony tail. And, like most young girls, she had a smile that was both delightful and somewhat of a turn-on.