Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
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The Man Of The House free porn video
The Man Of The House
Written and shared with the permission of Curt Brunch, personal friend
I sat there listening to the rhythmic squeaking of the bed springs with the accompaniment of what I knew to be the headboard smacking against the wall. Added to the soundtrack were the squeals of my wife together with grunts and obscenities being emitted by her male companion. I didn’t need to go up the stairs to the bedroom to confirm what was making all these noises; she was being fucked by the current Black boyfriend.
Indeed, I couldn’t have interfered for, as ever, I was naked except for the lacy panties I was told to wear and firmly tied to the chair on which I sat, unable to call out and voice any protest. She had made sure before she left the sitting room that the gag that covered my mouth was equally firmly tied. I never knew for just how long I would be restrained and rendered helpless, it was a decision that was, literally, out of my hands and my humiliation was made all the more complete because I tried so hard to appear to the outside world that I was the ‘man of the house’ and, clearly, as I sat with tears streaming down my face and my stiff little cock restrained by the lacy knickers, I was anything but a man.
However, I should not have been surprised about the day’s turn of events for this had been the norm for a few years now and the foul-mouthed Tyrone was just the latest in a stream of her ‘admirers’. I never questioned the where/why/who she found and bought home. Indeed, I was grateful that she did chose to bring them to the house for there had been occasions when we had been out socialising and she had blatantly demonstrated her preference and affection for Black men rather than be spending time in my company and that had caused me the most awful embarrassments. She didn’t care what other people might think but I was always mortified to be humiliated in such a comprehensive way.
So there I sat, trying to block out the sounds from above my head and forcing my mind to range over anything that might divert me from visualizing their rutting. Bizarrely, as the rhythmic knock of the headboard forced its way into my conscience, all that came to mind was that I would soon have to redecorate as the marks on the wall had become quite significant given the frequency at which this happened. I shook my head to dislodge that stupid idea and, as so often, I concentrated more on what had given me pleasure in my past and what ultimately had led me to where I sat today.
*******
I never knew my Father, apparently the reality of becoming a parent was too much for him to contemplate and he took his responsibilities with him when he left Mommy the day I was born, or so Mommy said. As I grew up there were no other men in my world and so I had no male ‘role models’ or masculine influences to mold me. Mommy, her sisters and my cousins (all girls) were the only providers of attitudes and stimulus so it was no wonder that I had a feminist streak to my outlook on life. Certainly I never questioned my upbringing and I was good little boy who did exactly as I was told albeit that Mommy did always refer to me as being ‘the man of the house’.
We lived out of town on an isolated plot and, especially in the Summer, it was not unusual for us to be bothered with conventional stuff like clothing. Mommy was what would now be known as a ‘free spirit’ and to be naked was just one of her quirks. She was also a firm advocate of breastfeeding and up until I started Grade School we would both enjoy the intimacy that came from me sitting on her lap and for me to take a nipple and be suckled by one of her lovely tits.
I also look back with fondness to us sharing bath time and I would delight in her taking great care in washing me and playing with what she called my ‘little Willy’. Nothing came of it at that early age and it never became an embarrassment but I did so love the feel of her hands on me. She used to joke that I would make a girl very happy one day but I never understood or quite knew what she was talking about.
My love of wearing ladies’ clothing stemmed back to those times as well. Auntie, Mommy’s sister, every month used to collect clothing and other stuff from around her neighborhood to take to the Thrift shops and Goodwill stores in town. She claimed she was doing it as an act of charity but looking back I’m thinking she was just being nosey and saw it as an opportunity to get free things. She would always bring her latest haul to our house before taking them to town and together she and Mommy would go through and pick out anything they thought was worth keeping.
I remember distinctly the time when the bag contained some little girl dresses collected from a house where the prosperous resident was clearing out her growing daughter’s wardrobe. Auntie said it would be useful to see how they looked being worn rather than just holding them up.
I was, as usual, taking great interest in their rummaging and before I knew it Mommy had taken the dress she was holding and slipped it over my head and naked body (it was Summer). They looked approvingly at the pretty party dress and made me spin around so that they might get a complete picture. I wasn’t in the slightest bit embarrassed and as I moved I loved the feel of the satiny material against my skin and delighted in all the girly bows and lace trimmings.
I recall that Auntie made some jokey comments about me now being the little girl that Mommy would have liked rather than a nasty little boy. It was said as a tease but, as they say, ‘many a true word is said in jest.’
There were a few dresses to be ‘modelled’ and I made no objection as one after the other I was made to parade around so that they could be examined in better detail. It was also the first time I recall that I had an erection. Whether my stubby little ‘stiffy’ was noticed was of no interest to me but I do know that I used to look forward to the next month’s visit by Auntie and the chance to try on a new wardrobe.
*******
I was jerked out of my reverie by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. By the footfall I knew it was Tyrone and, sure enough, I caught sight of him as he switched on the Kitchen light and then disappeared from view. I followed his progress around the kitchen by the noises he was making, the fridge door opening, the snap of beer can tabs, closet doors being shut, etc. He soon reappeared holding the beer cans and he wandered over to me to gloat at my predicament of being tied and bound in my chair; I wasn’t surprised, it was always the same. He would stand there in front of me until he was certain I could see his semi-erect cock which was slick with the evidence of his last ejaculation and her juices. He would take a swig from his beer and then setting the cans aside would come closer in the pretense of checking the tightness of my bounds. Sometimes he might deign to say something, mostly not, but always he would ensure that his dripping cock would brush against me so that by the time he retrieved the beers and retreated once more I would be literally smeared with his cum on my arms or wherever he had touched me with that monstrous tool. If he noticed that my cock had dribbled copious amounts of pre-cum through the material of my panties onto the seat it was never mentioned.
I heard the bedroom door click shut and I returned to my thoughts.
*******
I couldn’t accurately recall my emotions and thoughts at the time when I first saw a cock other than my own. It was during the first summer vacation after I began at Middle School and I was invited to go and play at a friend’s house. His older brother was there and we had a fine time playing some kind of wrestling game which involved a lot of grappling each other and rolling about on the bedroom floor and furniture. The Mom yelled up at us to calm down and as I lay back on the floor getting my breath the brother pointed and sniggered at me telling my friend to look at my ‘woody’. I had no idea what he was talking about and said so; he said something about, ‘your stiff dick, you dick!’ Then I understood for I became aware that all our horsing around had caused me to get excited with the result that my cock was indeed tenting my pants. My friend laughed and said that he bet I liked wanking. Again I was ignorant as to what he was referring. Exasperated he unzipped his pants and pulled out his own cock which like mine was a stiff fleshy rod but in contrast to mine was considerably bigger. He proceeded to grasp and rub his hand up and down its length and said, “That’s wanking”.
I nodded and admitted that I did do the same; it was just that up until that moment nobody had told me what it was called, the thing from which I got so much solitary pleasure from doing back home.
They then asked me to pull mine out. I do not remember how long after that we started things with his brother, it was not long I am sure. It all seemed so natural and innocent the three of us young boys sitting there with our stiff cocks for each to see and compare. I was intrigued to see the older brother had hair growing around the base, I didn’t know that could happen, but my friend’s was as bald as my own. I held myself while I looked upon the other two who had begun to stroke themselves in earnest and it was clear from the way they spoke to each other that they had engaged in mutual masturbation before. It was so exciting to see how they were obviously enjoying what they were doing but I was taken aback when the next thing my friend did without any prompting was to lean over his brother and take his stiff cock into his mouth just like he was about to eat a sausage. At first I was disgusted but then as I became used to the sight I could see that both of them had no such hesitations and that both were enjoying doing something that my juvenile brain had never, ever contemplated.
The older boy began to grunt and buck his hips which caused his brother to lift his head clear of the wet cock that now looked even bigger. Without any warning the spit and dribble of some white stuff came from the piss hole and that’s what I thought, that he was taking a piss. My feeling of disgust returned as I saw the runny cream but I soon realised it wasn’t piss, it was my first sight of spunk; something that I had yet to produce. Seeing my confused reaction they both apprised me of what I was seeing and giggled at my ignorance.
That afternoon was one of complete revelation and the beginning of my fascination with other boys’ dicks. As the summer progressed my education was continued and it was not too long after that introduction that I was to enjoy with my friends the pleasure that come from blowjobs, both giving and receiving.
*******
I was so lost in my reverie that I wasn’t aware that anyone had come down the stairs until hearing the splash and tinkle of someone pissing in the downstairs toilet alerted me. I opened my eyes and awaited the appearance of my wife for I knew from hearing that particular ‘toilet tune’ it could only be her. Sure enough to the accompaniment of the toilet being flushed she made her naked entrance into the sitting room and even though it was quite dark there was no missing the smirking expression on her face or the slick reflection of juices that were coating her legs.
She came over to me and in a show of concerned she placed the palm of her hand against my cheek. “How are you little man?” she said in that mocking tone that I knew so well.
I tried to move my head away from her touch but it was futile as my bonds restricted my movements very effectively. She glanced down at my lap and saw that I was sitting in a wet patch on the seat cushion. “Oh dear, have you been getting excited again listening to us?”
I dropped my head and had I been able to speak I could not deny the evidence of the stain caused by my pantie-clad cock that had dribbled pre-cum. I also wasn’t able to tell her that it wasn’t only hearing them that might be responsible but, rather, the thoughts and pictures that had been going through my head which had nothing to do with them.
“Well,” she sneered, “after making that mess you deserve to be made to sit here a bit longer.” With that s**thing comment she dropped her hand to my chest and finding my nipple grabbed and twisted it so that even through my gag my scream of pain could be heard. She made no apology for the hurt she had caused but rather whispered in my ear, “Why don’t you amuse yourself for a bit longer because I’ve still have some business to attend to upstairs.” Blinking back my tears I watched her as she retreated back to the bedroom.
I would never have admitted but I was pleased to see her go for I was quite content to sit in the gloom and return to my thoughts. The noises that drifted downstairs only served to be an appropriate background soundtrack to the sexual pleasures that I was revisiting in my head.
******
I never fully admitted to Mommy what I had been getting up to when I went out to play with my friends but in the spirit of openness that existed in my house and the sort of questions that I asked her about ‘the creamy stuff’ it must have been obvious to her that we hadn’t just been playing ball games, well, not the usual kind of ball games. She didn’t probe to discover what it was about my newfound interest in sexual matters and I’m guessing she accepted it as being a natural part of my growing up and that it was good that my curiosity was being satisfied.
As was her way she continued to wander around the house and our secluded yard half naked and only wore panties whenever she needed some covering or protection whenever household chores were being done ... which was not very often. I began to take more interest in the sight of a naked female and it was no surprise that my little cock used to get good and hard. She wasn’t fazed by my inevitable reaction and indeed regarded it as being complimentary. She would sometimes tease me by walking around the house in a deliberate provocative manner which was guaranteed to give me a woody and then one day when I thought she was preoccupied with something in the bathroom she caught me peeking at her and stroking myself. I was embarrassed as I thought I was being discrete but she laughed to think that I was jacking off because of her presence. She stood in front of me and softly stroked her hand up and down her slit and insisted I carried on wanking till ‘completion’. It was the first time that I produced my own’ cream’ and we were both delighted.
That was the first of many times that we would mutually masturbate and I learned more about the female body than I could ever have done in ‘Sex Ed’ at school. I was never allowed to fuck her, she was much too proper and traditional to allow that, but she seemed to get great enjoyment from seeing my spunk and time-to-time letting me ejaculate all over her large titties. She liked it even more if I was dressed in one of the little girl dresses that we had retained from the charity bag. I suppose it made it less naughty in her crazy way of thinking.
******
Things got even crazier the next year.
We all knew Mr. Evans; his back yard ran along the scrubby bit of land that we called our baseball field. He had thrown back many of our foul balls. Indeed, he was a nice guy and had even bought us new baseballs a few times and taken some of us to the mall for ice cream. Yes, Mr. Evans seemed like a very nice man and on a hot summer day I had no idea how my life was about to change.
I was riding my bike past his house when he yelled out to me and asked if I could help him move a heavy case in his garage. He was doing some renovation or home improvement and had a lot of stuff to move.
I didn’t hesitate to do as he asked (after all Mommy had bought me up to be a help) and after we had shoved this heavy box into the garage he offered me a glass of lemonade as my ‘wages’. As he made our drinks I sat at his kitchen table and looking around I saw a couple nudie magazines laying there.
He acted kind of embarrassed and said something like, “Oops, I should have put those away,” but without any conviction. Seeing I wasn’t concerned he made some comment like, “Oh well, go ahead and look at them you’re a man now.”
What 13 year old would not have wanted to; the invitation to look at pictures of naked women was irresistible. Sipping my lemonade I tried to look casual but it was clear that I was getting aroused. Feeling a bit ashamed I gulped the last of my drink down and said I needed to get home.
He thanked me for my help then added he had a couple more cases he needed to move and if I was around tomorrow he sure would appreciate it if I was around. I don't know if my ‘sure’ was me being just polite or if it was my thoughts of seeing some more nudie magazines. Whatever, I agreed to come over the next day around 10 to help.
******
He had me park my bike in his garage and it took only a few minutes to move and stack the cases, a task which was then followed by the offer of lemonade.
We went into the kitchen and there they sat; a stack of nudie mags on his kitchen table. He looked at me and said he saw how I liked the ones yesterday and thought as a reward for my help I'd like to look at some others.
I didn’t say either yes or no but as I looked through the stack there was one really caught my attention. It wasn't even a nudie mag; it was a Detective Magazine with a bound and gagged woman on the cover. (At that time I was a big fan of the old Superman TV show. Not so much for Superman but because I loved seeing Lois Lane tied up.) The content of the magazine itself was disappointing but Mr. Evans noticed and made some comment about my interest in the cover.
After flicking through a couple of the other nudies I again said I needed to be going home. Mr Evans told me that he had other Detective Magazines and if I came by tomorrow he'd have them out for me. I should have known better but I did want to see them and agreed with a nonchalant ‘sure’. He stressed that my parents may not like me doing so and it would be best if this was our secret.
Another ‘Sure’ and he told me to come by about 10 and to park my bike in the garage.
******
This day there were stacks of magazines and a more varied assortment. Not only were there nudie and Detective Magazines but also magazines that featured bondage. At that age I didn't even knew the word ‘bondage’ but I was hooked as soon as I saw them.
We sat on his couch with me drinking lemonade and Mr. Evans sipping a beer as I went through them. By the time I had scanned through the first one my little dick was so hard and tenting my shorts.
Mr. Evans was flipping through different mags and all the time asking me a ton of questions about myself. Occasionally he would hold over a picture and ask what I thought and making a comment like, “Damn, I'd like to have this one in bed,” while at the same time rubbing himself as he did. The pictures he showed me were getting progressively more graphic; women being fucked; a woman sucking a man's cock and then one of a man sucking another man's cock. That one grossed me out and I said I had better go home.
He said he understood but again stressed to me that this was our little secret and it would be best if no one else knew of it. I said I wouldn't tell a soul. With that he told me if I wanted to come back maybe it would be better if I came through his back yard.
I told him I did want to come back, told him my mom worked tomorrow and could I come then. He smiled, told me tomorrow would be good and us men would just hang out together.
‘Us men’ and ‘hang out’ that sounded so good to me. It would be the day that changed my life.
******
I walked over to the baseball field, strolled down left field and then ducked into Mr. Evans backyard knowing that the fence, trees and bushes blocked anyone from seeing me. He greeted me and already had such an assortment of magazines laid out for us. He told me to come in and said us guys would just relax and enjoy the day.
Written and shared with the permission of Curt Brunch, personal friend
I sat there listening to the rhythmic squeaking of the bed springs with the accompaniment of what I knew to be the headboard smacking against the wall. Added to the soundtrack were the squeals of my wife together with grunts and obscenities being emitted by her male companion. I didn’t need to go up the stairs to the bedroom to confirm what was making all these noises; she was being fucked by the current Black boyfriend.
Indeed, I couldn’t have interfered for, as ever, I was naked except for the lacy panties I was told to wear and firmly tied to the chair on which I sat, unable to call out and voice any protest. She had made sure before she left the sitting room that the gag that covered my mouth was equally firmly tied. I never knew for just how long I would be restrained and rendered helpless, it was a decision that was, literally, out of my hands and my humiliation was made all the more complete because I tried so hard to appear to the outside world that I was the ‘man of the house’ and, clearly, as I sat with tears streaming down my face and my stiff little cock restrained by the lacy knickers, I was anything but a man.
However, I should not have been surprised about the day’s turn of events for this had been the norm for a few years now and the foul-mouthed Tyrone was just the latest in a stream of her ‘admirers’. I never questioned the where/why/who she found and bought home. Indeed, I was grateful that she did chose to bring them to the house for there had been occasions when we had been out socialising and she had blatantly demonstrated her preference and affection for Black men rather than be spending time in my company and that had caused me the most awful embarrassments. She didn’t care what other people might think but I was always mortified to be humiliated in such a comprehensive way.
So there I sat, trying to block out the sounds from above my head and forcing my mind to range over anything that might divert me from visualizing their rutting. Bizarrely, as the rhythmic knock of the headboard forced its way into my conscience, all that came to mind was that I would soon have to redecorate as the marks on the wall had become quite significant given the frequency at which this happened. I shook my head to dislodge that stupid idea and, as so often, I concentrated more on what had given me pleasure in my past and what ultimately had led me to where I sat today.
*******
I never knew my Father, apparently the reality of becoming a parent was too much for him to contemplate and he took his responsibilities with him when he left Mommy the day I was born, or so Mommy said. As I grew up there were no other men in my world and so I had no male ‘role models’ or masculine influences to mold me. Mommy, her sisters and my cousins (all girls) were the only providers of attitudes and stimulus so it was no wonder that I had a feminist streak to my outlook on life. Certainly I never questioned my upbringing and I was good little boy who did exactly as I was told albeit that Mommy did always refer to me as being ‘the man of the house’.
We lived out of town on an isolated plot and, especially in the Summer, it was not unusual for us to be bothered with conventional stuff like clothing. Mommy was what would now be known as a ‘free spirit’ and to be naked was just one of her quirks. She was also a firm advocate of breastfeeding and up until I started Grade School we would both enjoy the intimacy that came from me sitting on her lap and for me to take a nipple and be suckled by one of her lovely tits.
I also look back with fondness to us sharing bath time and I would delight in her taking great care in washing me and playing with what she called my ‘little Willy’. Nothing came of it at that early age and it never became an embarrassment but I did so love the feel of her hands on me. She used to joke that I would make a girl very happy one day but I never understood or quite knew what she was talking about.
My love of wearing ladies’ clothing stemmed back to those times as well. Auntie, Mommy’s sister, every month used to collect clothing and other stuff from around her neighborhood to take to the Thrift shops and Goodwill stores in town. She claimed she was doing it as an act of charity but looking back I’m thinking she was just being nosey and saw it as an opportunity to get free things. She would always bring her latest haul to our house before taking them to town and together she and Mommy would go through and pick out anything they thought was worth keeping.
I remember distinctly the time when the bag contained some little girl dresses collected from a house where the prosperous resident was clearing out her growing daughter’s wardrobe. Auntie said it would be useful to see how they looked being worn rather than just holding them up.
I was, as usual, taking great interest in their rummaging and before I knew it Mommy had taken the dress she was holding and slipped it over my head and naked body (it was Summer). They looked approvingly at the pretty party dress and made me spin around so that they might get a complete picture. I wasn’t in the slightest bit embarrassed and as I moved I loved the feel of the satiny material against my skin and delighted in all the girly bows and lace trimmings.
I recall that Auntie made some jokey comments about me now being the little girl that Mommy would have liked rather than a nasty little boy. It was said as a tease but, as they say, ‘many a true word is said in jest.’
There were a few dresses to be ‘modelled’ and I made no objection as one after the other I was made to parade around so that they could be examined in better detail. It was also the first time I recall that I had an erection. Whether my stubby little ‘stiffy’ was noticed was of no interest to me but I do know that I used to look forward to the next month’s visit by Auntie and the chance to try on a new wardrobe.
*******
I was jerked out of my reverie by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. By the footfall I knew it was Tyrone and, sure enough, I caught sight of him as he switched on the Kitchen light and then disappeared from view. I followed his progress around the kitchen by the noises he was making, the fridge door opening, the snap of beer can tabs, closet doors being shut, etc. He soon reappeared holding the beer cans and he wandered over to me to gloat at my predicament of being tied and bound in my chair; I wasn’t surprised, it was always the same. He would stand there in front of me until he was certain I could see his semi-erect cock which was slick with the evidence of his last ejaculation and her juices. He would take a swig from his beer and then setting the cans aside would come closer in the pretense of checking the tightness of my bounds. Sometimes he might deign to say something, mostly not, but always he would ensure that his dripping cock would brush against me so that by the time he retrieved the beers and retreated once more I would be literally smeared with his cum on my arms or wherever he had touched me with that monstrous tool. If he noticed that my cock had dribbled copious amounts of pre-cum through the material of my panties onto the seat it was never mentioned.
I heard the bedroom door click shut and I returned to my thoughts.
*******
I couldn’t accurately recall my emotions and thoughts at the time when I first saw a cock other than my own. It was during the first summer vacation after I began at Middle School and I was invited to go and play at a friend’s house. His older brother was there and we had a fine time playing some kind of wrestling game which involved a lot of grappling each other and rolling about on the bedroom floor and furniture. The Mom yelled up at us to calm down and as I lay back on the floor getting my breath the brother pointed and sniggered at me telling my friend to look at my ‘woody’. I had no idea what he was talking about and said so; he said something about, ‘your stiff dick, you dick!’ Then I understood for I became aware that all our horsing around had caused me to get excited with the result that my cock was indeed tenting my pants. My friend laughed and said that he bet I liked wanking. Again I was ignorant as to what he was referring. Exasperated he unzipped his pants and pulled out his own cock which like mine was a stiff fleshy rod but in contrast to mine was considerably bigger. He proceeded to grasp and rub his hand up and down its length and said, “That’s wanking”.
I nodded and admitted that I did do the same; it was just that up until that moment nobody had told me what it was called, the thing from which I got so much solitary pleasure from doing back home.
They then asked me to pull mine out. I do not remember how long after that we started things with his brother, it was not long I am sure. It all seemed so natural and innocent the three of us young boys sitting there with our stiff cocks for each to see and compare. I was intrigued to see the older brother had hair growing around the base, I didn’t know that could happen, but my friend’s was as bald as my own. I held myself while I looked upon the other two who had begun to stroke themselves in earnest and it was clear from the way they spoke to each other that they had engaged in mutual masturbation before. It was so exciting to see how they were obviously enjoying what they were doing but I was taken aback when the next thing my friend did without any prompting was to lean over his brother and take his stiff cock into his mouth just like he was about to eat a sausage. At first I was disgusted but then as I became used to the sight I could see that both of them had no such hesitations and that both were enjoying doing something that my juvenile brain had never, ever contemplated.
The older boy began to grunt and buck his hips which caused his brother to lift his head clear of the wet cock that now looked even bigger. Without any warning the spit and dribble of some white stuff came from the piss hole and that’s what I thought, that he was taking a piss. My feeling of disgust returned as I saw the runny cream but I soon realised it wasn’t piss, it was my first sight of spunk; something that I had yet to produce. Seeing my confused reaction they both apprised me of what I was seeing and giggled at my ignorance.
That afternoon was one of complete revelation and the beginning of my fascination with other boys’ dicks. As the summer progressed my education was continued and it was not too long after that introduction that I was to enjoy with my friends the pleasure that come from blowjobs, both giving and receiving.
*******
I was so lost in my reverie that I wasn’t aware that anyone had come down the stairs until hearing the splash and tinkle of someone pissing in the downstairs toilet alerted me. I opened my eyes and awaited the appearance of my wife for I knew from hearing that particular ‘toilet tune’ it could only be her. Sure enough to the accompaniment of the toilet being flushed she made her naked entrance into the sitting room and even though it was quite dark there was no missing the smirking expression on her face or the slick reflection of juices that were coating her legs.
She came over to me and in a show of concerned she placed the palm of her hand against my cheek. “How are you little man?” she said in that mocking tone that I knew so well.
I tried to move my head away from her touch but it was futile as my bonds restricted my movements very effectively. She glanced down at my lap and saw that I was sitting in a wet patch on the seat cushion. “Oh dear, have you been getting excited again listening to us?”
I dropped my head and had I been able to speak I could not deny the evidence of the stain caused by my pantie-clad cock that had dribbled pre-cum. I also wasn’t able to tell her that it wasn’t only hearing them that might be responsible but, rather, the thoughts and pictures that had been going through my head which had nothing to do with them.
“Well,” she sneered, “after making that mess you deserve to be made to sit here a bit longer.” With that s**thing comment she dropped her hand to my chest and finding my nipple grabbed and twisted it so that even through my gag my scream of pain could be heard. She made no apology for the hurt she had caused but rather whispered in my ear, “Why don’t you amuse yourself for a bit longer because I’ve still have some business to attend to upstairs.” Blinking back my tears I watched her as she retreated back to the bedroom.
I would never have admitted but I was pleased to see her go for I was quite content to sit in the gloom and return to my thoughts. The noises that drifted downstairs only served to be an appropriate background soundtrack to the sexual pleasures that I was revisiting in my head.
******
I never fully admitted to Mommy what I had been getting up to when I went out to play with my friends but in the spirit of openness that existed in my house and the sort of questions that I asked her about ‘the creamy stuff’ it must have been obvious to her that we hadn’t just been playing ball games, well, not the usual kind of ball games. She didn’t probe to discover what it was about my newfound interest in sexual matters and I’m guessing she accepted it as being a natural part of my growing up and that it was good that my curiosity was being satisfied.
As was her way she continued to wander around the house and our secluded yard half naked and only wore panties whenever she needed some covering or protection whenever household chores were being done ... which was not very often. I began to take more interest in the sight of a naked female and it was no surprise that my little cock used to get good and hard. She wasn’t fazed by my inevitable reaction and indeed regarded it as being complimentary. She would sometimes tease me by walking around the house in a deliberate provocative manner which was guaranteed to give me a woody and then one day when I thought she was preoccupied with something in the bathroom she caught me peeking at her and stroking myself. I was embarrassed as I thought I was being discrete but she laughed to think that I was jacking off because of her presence. She stood in front of me and softly stroked her hand up and down her slit and insisted I carried on wanking till ‘completion’. It was the first time that I produced my own’ cream’ and we were both delighted.
That was the first of many times that we would mutually masturbate and I learned more about the female body than I could ever have done in ‘Sex Ed’ at school. I was never allowed to fuck her, she was much too proper and traditional to allow that, but she seemed to get great enjoyment from seeing my spunk and time-to-time letting me ejaculate all over her large titties. She liked it even more if I was dressed in one of the little girl dresses that we had retained from the charity bag. I suppose it made it less naughty in her crazy way of thinking.
******
Things got even crazier the next year.
We all knew Mr. Evans; his back yard ran along the scrubby bit of land that we called our baseball field. He had thrown back many of our foul balls. Indeed, he was a nice guy and had even bought us new baseballs a few times and taken some of us to the mall for ice cream. Yes, Mr. Evans seemed like a very nice man and on a hot summer day I had no idea how my life was about to change.
I was riding my bike past his house when he yelled out to me and asked if I could help him move a heavy case in his garage. He was doing some renovation or home improvement and had a lot of stuff to move.
I didn’t hesitate to do as he asked (after all Mommy had bought me up to be a help) and after we had shoved this heavy box into the garage he offered me a glass of lemonade as my ‘wages’. As he made our drinks I sat at his kitchen table and looking around I saw a couple nudie magazines laying there.
He acted kind of embarrassed and said something like, “Oops, I should have put those away,” but without any conviction. Seeing I wasn’t concerned he made some comment like, “Oh well, go ahead and look at them you’re a man now.”
What 13 year old would not have wanted to; the invitation to look at pictures of naked women was irresistible. Sipping my lemonade I tried to look casual but it was clear that I was getting aroused. Feeling a bit ashamed I gulped the last of my drink down and said I needed to get home.
He thanked me for my help then added he had a couple more cases he needed to move and if I was around tomorrow he sure would appreciate it if I was around. I don't know if my ‘sure’ was me being just polite or if it was my thoughts of seeing some more nudie magazines. Whatever, I agreed to come over the next day around 10 to help.
******
He had me park my bike in his garage and it took only a few minutes to move and stack the cases, a task which was then followed by the offer of lemonade.
We went into the kitchen and there they sat; a stack of nudie mags on his kitchen table. He looked at me and said he saw how I liked the ones yesterday and thought as a reward for my help I'd like to look at some others.
I didn’t say either yes or no but as I looked through the stack there was one really caught my attention. It wasn't even a nudie mag; it was a Detective Magazine with a bound and gagged woman on the cover. (At that time I was a big fan of the old Superman TV show. Not so much for Superman but because I loved seeing Lois Lane tied up.) The content of the magazine itself was disappointing but Mr. Evans noticed and made some comment about my interest in the cover.
After flicking through a couple of the other nudies I again said I needed to be going home. Mr Evans told me that he had other Detective Magazines and if I came by tomorrow he'd have them out for me. I should have known better but I did want to see them and agreed with a nonchalant ‘sure’. He stressed that my parents may not like me doing so and it would be best if this was our secret.
Another ‘Sure’ and he told me to come by about 10 and to park my bike in the garage.
******
This day there were stacks of magazines and a more varied assortment. Not only were there nudie and Detective Magazines but also magazines that featured bondage. At that age I didn't even knew the word ‘bondage’ but I was hooked as soon as I saw them.
We sat on his couch with me drinking lemonade and Mr. Evans sipping a beer as I went through them. By the time I had scanned through the first one my little dick was so hard and tenting my shorts.
Mr. Evans was flipping through different mags and all the time asking me a ton of questions about myself. Occasionally he would hold over a picture and ask what I thought and making a comment like, “Damn, I'd like to have this one in bed,” while at the same time rubbing himself as he did. The pictures he showed me were getting progressively more graphic; women being fucked; a woman sucking a man's cock and then one of a man sucking another man's cock. That one grossed me out and I said I had better go home.
He said he understood but again stressed to me that this was our little secret and it would be best if no one else knew of it. I said I wouldn't tell a soul. With that he told me if I wanted to come back maybe it would be better if I came through his back yard.
I told him I did want to come back, told him my mom worked tomorrow and could I come then. He smiled, told me tomorrow would be good and us men would just hang out together.
‘Us men’ and ‘hang out’ that sounded so good to me. It would be the day that changed my life.
******
I walked over to the baseball field, strolled down left field and then ducked into Mr. Evans backyard knowing that the fence, trees and bushes blocked anyone from seeing me. He greeted me and already had such an assortment of magazines laid out for us. He told me to come in and said us guys would just relax and enjoy the day.
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