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.
Dennis Bragger pulled his shiny two year old Mercedes out of his garage, attached to his modest five room ranch house, and hit the door closer remote hanging from the driver's side sun visor. He had lived in this small and comfortable home for the past ten years. With his last two substantial raises at the brokerage house, along with his selling commissions, he knew that he could afford a larger house in a more affluent neighborhood but he was quite content with what he had.
The five rooms was more than enough for a bachelor living alone. He spent his extra money on stock investments that he monitored closely and on clothes. His closets were filled with expensive custom made suits, along with top quality slacks, shirts and accessories. Denny was a very content forty years old man.
In his mind his only shortcoming was the lacking of a female companion. He yearned for the intimacy of a relationship. He knew that because of the way he dressed and his mild manner most of his neighbors assumed that he was gay. But, he was not gay. He wanted a woman to lavish gifts on, share his free time with and yes, to be intimate with.
He pulled out into the quiet street, proceeding to the stop sign at the end which connected to a very busy main drag. Denny looked over at the nearby bus stop and was surprised to see his attractive neighbor Rose Dunn standing in the frigid temperatures moving her feet back and forth in an attempt to keep warm.
Denny pulled his car around the corner even though it was not his planned direction. Breakfast could wait. He lowered the passenger side window as he pulled up to the bus stop. "How about a ride Rose?"
She was thankful to get out of the cold wind. She smiled a big smile at Denny as she opened the car door and slid in. Her heavy winter coat opened far enough as she dropped into the seat for Denny to get a good look at her long stocking covered legs. Rose was aware that her coat was partially open and her skirt had ridden up to mid thigh as she tried to arrange her body in the seat. The best she could do was to arrange her coat to cover one of her trim legs.
Her name was Miriam and she was my first, though I can only write the story here as I doubt my family would understand as Miriam is also my aunt and still married to my uncle. She may be in her seventies today, but some things are better not mentioned, save only in the mind as cherished memories. It took place back in the 1970's when the sexual revolution was just gaining ground from the swinging sixties. Though compared to today it was a far more innocent age and sex was more or less confined to the men's magazines as far as any young male was concerned. Though I did know what a naked woman looked like, air brushing and some very weird rumours via word of mouth still held sway in many teenagers brains. Sex after all was what you did when you were married and most young girls of my age (16) were not easily approachable nor interested in sex as such. Well, not that I could fathom, it wasn't as if I ever came out and asked. I had a tendency to simply get tongue tied in their presence as it was. Yes, I was a shy young boy, still a virgin, like I suspect all my male classmates, despite some outrageous claims by the boys, though possibly not the girls. Then again they'd never admit they weren't virgins, reputation meant a lot in those days.
She danced with beauty and grace. Her 18-year-old body was at its bloom of womanhood, and was the envy of all the others in her class. She was dancing in what would be her final recital with this dance company, as the following Autumn would bring her to a distant state and university.
Her 20-year-old brother sat in the audience, enjoying the show. He had laughed at the 4 and 5-years-olds doing their cute dances in their cute outfits, some taking center stage, still others crying for their mommy, afraid of being in front of so many strangers. He sat patiently through all the "grades" of the evening... beginners tap, beginners ballet, beginners jazz, all the way up to just before the final-. The last dance was with the graduating Seniors and the head dance instructor, the owner of the studio. Many of the girls going off to college had been with the instructor since they, themselves, were the cute 4 and 5-year-olds, a few of them accepting assistant roles with the nearly three dozen different dance classes.
Collette was one of them. She had started dancing almost as soon as she could walk, and her parents had enrolled her into classes as soon as it was feasible. After that, there was no turning back for her. She had a passion for dance and felt the need to make it her life's work. That's why she had decided to go so far away to the Big City for college.