Pete And Joe Get Laid Second stab at humor in sex
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This story is for those readers who have waited patiently for a new adventure. With a will of its own this very long story has taken over my mind and I have lived its highs and lows for several weeks, re-wording carefully until everything felt right. It has controlled me: I hope it pleases you all. But, in the end, it’s just another little love story…Settle into your seats, grab your popcorn and dim the lights…
I suppose it all started way back when I was seeing Greg – or more to the point when I had just finished with him. ‘Seeing’ being a way of saying we were together, well, some of the time. I mean it was a relationship but not a satisfactory one, for me at least. He got what he wanted now and again and I suppose I went along with it. But it wasn’t what I was really searching for and he didn’t care at all what I wanted. He didn’t even ask. Once he’d had his pleasures he’d lose interest in me for a bit. I suppose I’d had enough. I do a lot of supposing these days!
So I finished with him, as I said. Clean break: no regrets. And no harm done either. But I did mope around at home a lot like someone looking for something they’d lost or wanting something to do. I drove my mother mad, I suspect, but she was pretty supportive and jollied me along keeping me occupied when I wasn’t at college over the Easter holiday that year.
I’d better start again. I’m Gwen and I’m twenty-two years old. I worked for a couple of years after I left school in a local hotel and then I decided to go to college and now I’m studying Catering and Hotel Management full time. Greg was on the same course [well, still is] – he’s good looking, only twenty-one but an empty vessel, straw in the wind and content-free! I’m well rid of him.
‘What do you want, then?’ asked my mum, one Friday towards the end of the Easter holiday, whilst she was ironing in the kitchen.
‘Someone like Peter, I suppose, but he’ll never ask me out!’
‘Who’s Peter? And why won’t he?’
‘Another boy on the course. He’s not as good looking as Greg, sort of facially I mean, but he’s tall and, you know, strong looking. He has a silly threadbare little beard on his chin and a fringe over his eyes. Never speaks to me but he works hard and I think he’s the best cook on the course by far. He just doesn’t know it.’
‘So you like him?’
‘Yes, I do. He’s just twenty, mum, younger than me.’
‘Sometimes you have to make things happen, you know.’ She smiled. ‘While you’re thinking that one out, can you take these two blouses and hang them in my wardrobe, please, Gwen?’
‘Sure, pass them across,’ I said.
‘Oh, and whilst you are upstairs can you put these in my underwear drawer – top drawer at the side of my bed?’
‘Okay,’ I added as I took them from her. I went upstairs, dropped the panties on the bed whilst I hung the blouses in the wardrobe. Then I opened the drawer of the bedside cabinet. I saw three dark green, leather-bound photo albums in the bottom of the drawer: normally they would have been hidden by the underwear lying on top of them. I put the things in the drawer, closed it and went back downstairs.
‘Do you mean ask him out or something?’ I said as I entered the kitchen, picking up the conversation about Peter again.
‘Yes, if you really want him.’
She smiled reassuringly. I went upstairs and changed into a pair of shorts and a brief top. I pulled an old blanket from a cupboard and went downstairs. Easter was late that year and the weather was unusually hot as well. I wanted to make the most of the good weather before college restarted.
‘I’m going to sunbathe down near the cabin,’ I told my mum.
‘Right. I’ll bring you a cold drink later,’ she said. ‘When I’ve finished this lot!’ She pointed at a pile of shirts.
I wanted to improve my tan and so I spread the blanket and stretched myself out in the sun. The denim shorts had been cut off really short from an old pair of jeans. I pulled the top over my head and let my breasts absorb the warmth. I already had a reasonable tan and really I wanted to sunbathe nude but I was afraid of being caught by one of my parents. I compromised by going topless and dozed a little or maybe my mind just wandered over recent hurtful memories and, absorbed in those thoughts, I didn’t hear or notice my mum coming down the garden until she was almost at my side. I didn’t try to cover myself, it was too late.
‘I’ve brought you an iced orange juice,’ she said, as she settled down next to me. To my surprise she unbuttoned her blouse and removed it, unhooked her bra too and took it off. Her still firm breasts with erect nipples showed she still had a good figure to please my father. She grinned at me.
‘I often used to sunbathe nude at home when I was your age,’ she confided.
‘I thought you’d disapprove and go mad if you caught me,’ I said.
‘Gwen, your dad and I used to go round the house naked a lot of the time when we were first married. We still do when both of you are away. Max is never here these days and your dad will understand, I promise.’
She made it all sound so normal, I felt a relief that I hadn’t been wanting to do something she would consider wrong.
‘But what if Max comes down the garden?’ I said.
‘Your brother is always out these days. When did he last come down the garden, Gwen?’
I smiled, admitting that was true. He was always out skateboarding or away snowboarding or something. Life was not a serious matter for Max, at least at seventeen, not yet it wasn’t.
‘Or dad, he might come.’
‘Then he’d see you, he’d see what a beautiful woman his little girl has become. He’d be very proud of you,’ she whispered. ‘He might even join you, naked I mean, and sunbathe with you. Would you mind?’
‘You wouldn’t?’ I asked.
‘No, of course not.’
‘Then I wouldn’t mind either,’ I said. We lay there a while, quietly.
Mum eventually added: ‘And if you want to wander round in the nude at home that is fine by me. I’ll go naked in the house too if you decide to. I’ll forewarn your dad but we won’t do anything ourselves until you actually want to do it, Gwen.’
Propping myself up on one elbow I looked earnestly into her eyes and said: ‘And you absolutely promise that if I stroll into the kitchen one morning stark naked neither of you will go bananas or anything?’
She laughed. ‘I promise,’ she said, ‘and I’ll look forward to it!’
I flopped back down onto my back to take it all in. Things had changed unexpectedly in one afternoon. I had decided to say something, I still wasn’t sure what exactly, to Peter, I could sunbathe in the nude as I wished and finally I hadn’t forgotten those photo albums in mum’s drawer. For some reason I hadn’t wanted to ask her about them. I thought they might disappear if I did.
Things were looking up.
ooo000ooo
Mum does relief work at a local police communications centre and on the Saturday morning she was on duty from ten until four in the afternoon. There was no-one in the house. Dad was at Roy and Penny Hope’s house helping them build a conservatory, so mum said, and Max was in Italy snowboarding or something similar. I wanted a peek at those albums.
I went into mum and dad’s bedroom and carefully moved the panties to one side and lifted the top album from the drawer. Its warm leather and the scent suggested an old and treasured possession as I held it in my hands. I sat on the bed and opened it. In a way I wasn’t entirely surprised. Not only was my dad clearly an accomplished photographer [if I thought about it I should have known that from the general quality of other family photos] but he had been taking nude pictures of my mother for many years. I wasn’t shocked either. They were beautiful – she clearly loved to pose in the most erotic and suggestive poses as well as in simply romantic and only slightly sexual ones. They were mixed so that pictures twenty years old were j
uxtaposed alongside recent ones and they compared well although the changes were obvious. At thirty-nine she was still attractive and I lingered over every page.
Leaving the album on the bed I went to my own room, took all my clothes off and returned to my parents’ room. I opened the album at the beginning and began to copy the poses in the photos. Some of the photos were dated in pencil in my dad’s writing: ‘Beth, April 84’ for example. I felt very sexy as I placed myself in the more sexual positions and I became quite turned on by it all. For some reason, perhaps my inexperience, I was fascinated by the poses of my mum, who was younger than me at the time, going by the neat little captions, on all fours smiling into the lens, even reaching under herself with one hand in one photo. I could tell she had several fingers in her cunt and I replicated the pose and maintained it for some time as I masturbated and was rewarded with a fabulous orgasm. Eventually, embarrassed perhaps by the fact that in a way my mother was turning me on, I put the album back in the drawer and decided to leave the other two volumes for another day. I assumed at the time that they had more of the same in them. I was wrong.
It was a beautiful late morning by now and I decided to sunbathe some more. I had left the blanket in the cabin, so, naked as the day I was born, I stepped out of the back door of our house, locking it behind me, and walked down to the far end of our very long, secluded garden. I opened the cabin, leaving it open to the air, picked up the blanket and spread it out in a sunny spot.
I had a book, ‘Shadow of the Wind’, with me that I was reading that holiday but the weather was too warm and the sunlight reflected too harshly off the page and I had dropped the book down at my side. I must have dozed again for some time until I was woken by the sudden awareness that I had shivered. It had grown cool and I decided to go back inside. It was then that I realised I had no idea of the time whatsoever and no way of knowing it either without returning to the house. Mum might be back home, dad too even. Well mum said I could go around naked when I felt ready. I had committed myself sooner than I had perhaps thought or intended.
I felt a sense of pleasure, surprisingly, that I had the self-confidence and picking up my book and blanket I set off. I put the blanket in the cabin and walked up the garden towards the back door of our house.
Mum was in the kitchen. She made no comment on my appearance and simply said: ‘Hello darling. Your dad’s upstairs somewhere. Everything all right?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’ve cleaned up the cat’s mess in the conservatory. Oh, and Mary Alsman rang about Thursday night. She said you’d know what she wants.’
I was fairly sure she blushed slightly as she thanked me, adding: ‘I’ll ring her back later, Gwen.’
Upstairs I flopped down on my bed after pushing the door to just a little.
It would still be easy for someone to put their head around the door. As I lay there I was debating in my mind whether to dress before I went down for the evening meal or whether to remain nude. Although it had indeed become a little cool outside it was still very warm indoors. The problem was solved by my mother who knocked gently and came in. She sat on the edge of the bed.
‘I’m not pressurising you at all, Gwen. I just wondered whether you were going to remain like that or get dressed.’ She smiled at me. ‘Your tan’s really good now.’ She had diverted from the main purpose of what she’d come to say. ‘If you’re getting dressed that’s fine, if you’re planning on spending the evening naked then your dad and I will do the same. I didn’t want to get it wrong and embarrass you.’
I smiled and took her hand. ‘You have surprised me in the last two days, mum. I’ve been naked almost all day, I’m going to stay that way. No teasing though!’
‘No, I promise.’
ooo000ooo
When I went downstairs mum was in the kitchen, in the nude like me.
‘Hi,’ she said. I picked up a gherkin and ate it. Then I wandered through to the dining room and poured myself a glass of red wine. There were two bottles already open on the table, one of Shiraz red and one of Macon white.
‘I heard mum call from the kitchen: ‘Dinner will be ready in about a quarter of an hour!’
I found dad in the lounge. He was standing looking something up in the dictionary he had just pulled from the bookcase. He turned to look my way. We both looked at each other, distracted from speech initially as we absorbed each other’s nakedness. I saw his penis stiffen slightly as he was looking at me. I too felt some arousal and my nipples were very hard suddenly, so much so that I was quite aware of their prominence. It would be untrue to say my dad had an erection but his cock was not completely limp, that’s all.
We had a nice meal and cleared up together. When dad was out of the room at some point mum said:
‘Your father obviously likes looking at you, Gwen, any man would, and I think he’s having trouble avoiding having a really strong erection in front of you. He doesn’t want to upset you.’
‘I won’t mind,’ I said, ‘I’d like to see it – I’ve been turned on myself you know.’
‘Good,’ said mum. ‘I don’t mind if you are both aroused. I am – and you must feel able to still touch each other just the same as you usually do when you are dressed, you know.’
‘Are you going to tell him, then, mum?’ I asked.
‘No, Gwen, you tell him, he’ll like to hear it from you.’
I wasn’t sure if I could tell my own father I was happy to see his erection but I decided mum left me little option really as, if I didn’t, she’d almost certainly tell him what we had said later when they were alone together.
What’s more, mum had clearly decided to leave the two of us alone in the lounge for a few minutes. I took the plunge.
‘Dad, are you sure you’re okay with me wandering around like this?’
‘Sure,’ he said, ‘you look so lovely, Gwen. I wish I were your age again. You remind me of your mum.’
‘I get a bit turned on seeing you and mum in the nude,’ I said hesitantly.
‘So do I,’ he said, ‘especially when you look so, so…’
He seemed to be struggling for the right or the most acceptable words.
‘Sexy?’ I said. ‘I feel very sexy, dad. I’d like to see you turned on too, if you want to be.’
There, I’d said it. He held his arms out to me and I let him embrace me. He kissed me on the cheek and I put my arms around his bare chest. I felt his cock press against my tummy and realised it was now fully hard, engorged and ready. I let go and we moved apart. I stared at his cock and I wanted it, I wanted to touch it, to stroke it for him but I knew I couldn’t.
‘I’m really turned on now,’ I said.
‘So am I,’ said my mum who was standing in the doorway and must have been watching us for a moment or two.
The evening was both thrilling and unbearable. I wanted some sort of sexual fulfilment and yet I was afraid of coming, sitting there in front of my parents. I wanted to finger myself or in my fantasy I wanted my father to come over and fuck me but I knew that wouldn’t happen. I went to bed quite early and played with myself until I fell asleep.
On the Sunday morning I tried to explain to my mum how I felt and what I needed and why I had gone to bed.
‘Play with yourself if you want, we won’t mind, just do what you need to.’ She pulled me to her and kissed me, a new kiss, her lips on mine, her tongue pushing into my mouth as her fingers tugged very gently on my left nipple.
As she released me I said: ‘I’m going down to catch the sun again. It’s the last day of the holiday.’
‘Right-ho,’ she replied.
‘Would you like to join me later?’ I asked.
No, not just now, thanks.’
I felt a trifle disappointed as if I had displeased her in some way. Perhaps she was expecting more of a reaction from me to her kiss – b
ut I had been taken by surprise by her excitement and realised she too had been very aroused by developments between the three of us over the last couple of days.
‘When it’s really warmed up, I will,’ she called after me, as I left the house. I felt better.
ooo000ooo
The next day [Monday] I went back to college and immediately checked Peter was there. He was, he was very rarely absent. There was not a lot happening that day which is fairly typical of any first day of term at our college. The lecturers seem to be locked in meaningless meetings whilst the students are allocated ‘Planning Time’ when we are supposed to plan our assignments for the term.
In reality we sit around talking for quite a lot of the time and so I grabbed a coffee and went and stood in front of Peter.
‘Hello,’ I said. He was doodling on a piece of paper. I looked down at the paper.
‘Oh, I see, they’re birds,’ I said, suddenly realising it was a group of tiny birds in flight.
‘Yes, they’re redshank,’ he confirmed. He smiled at me obviously waiting for me to speak next. I had never really planned what I would say, I had been hoping the right words would suddenly appear in my head.
‘I want you to take me out for a meal, Peter. I know you’re an excellent cook and I want you to take me somewhere that serves food you approve of. I’ll pay, of course, but I want you to take me, please.’ It came out in one headlong rush. He just stared at me, probably in quite justifiable amazement.
‘Is that it?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Right,’ he said and looked back down at his drawing. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I knew I was blushing deeply and I felt I had made a huge fool of myself. I walked away and sat down at my keyboard. I forced myself to start work on my assignment, a hotel-wide fire risk assessment for an imaginary hotel based in a seventeenth century listed building. Progress was slow but I stuck to my task, almost not daring to look round and see Peter looking my way or, in my mind, talking to some other student and pointing at me and laughing.
It must have been about half-past two, the time people start to drift off on the first day back. I didn’t hear anyone come near me but directly behind me a voice said:
‘Gwen?’
I knew whose voice it was instantly and I span in my office swivel chair to face him.
‘Were you teasing?’ he asked without any preamble as if he was as nervous as I was.
‘No, I don’t tease, I meant it.’
‘Is that how you normally arrange your social life?’ he asked, quietly.
‘I’ve never done anything like that before,’ I said, ‘but I did want you to ask me out and I didn’t think you ever would.’
He never responded to that remark but continued:
‘I’d love to take you out but I will pay, please. Is Friday night all right?’
‘Yes, thank you, it’s fine, Peter. You’d look better without the beard and the fringe covering your face, you know,’ I said gently but very stupidly.
I sensed the frisson of anger and I wished a hole would swallow me up.
‘Any more conditions?’ he asked. I sensed the annoyance.
I looked up at him and tried my softest, most winning smile.
‘No, I’m sorry Peter. I haven’t done this very well – it’s not come out as I imagined it. You’re entitled to make some demands of me now, I think.’ I hoped he could forgive my impertinence over the beard and fringe comments.
‘Right,’ he said with a slight smile. Quietly he said: ‘Call me Pete, please, I prefer Pete. You always look good in pale blue, Gwen.’
I think I probably had a silly grin on my face but I was certainly starting to feel pleased. It had worked – he was going to take me out.
‘I’ve only ever seen you in jeans, I think, Gwen.’
‘I’ll wear a dress or a skirt, then,’ I said.
‘Tell me your address and your mobile number tomorrow, yes?’
‘Fine,’ I said.
‘I’ve got to dash,’ he said, ‘Blackcaps in Ashton. See you tomorrow.’
He gave me the best smile I’d ever seen from him. He was gone. I sat there, spinning on my chair, flushed with success and a bit excited too. At least there was something going on in my life now, in more ways than one. Peter, well Pete then, liked me in pale blue and claimed he’d only ever seen me in jeans. And I thought he’d never paid me any attention. I decided to walk into town and look for a dress for Friday night.
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