Betting Night
- 2 years ago
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Betting On My FamilyChapter 2: A Room With A View free porn video
The next two weeks were spent unpacking and getting accustomed to the place. The new house was a large one, but we were also trying to squeeze two households into one. Because of their devotion to fitness, dad and Babs decided to turn one ground-floor bedroom into a training room where dad and I set up our free weights and the girls stored their mats, and steps, and resistance bands, and ankle weights, and all of the other weird shit they apparently required to get not as fit as me. They turned the other ground floor bedroom into an office/computer room so that we would all have a quiet place to to work once school started up again. It was a nice idea, especially because my dad was equally tyrannical about schoolwork, but it also carried the consequence of having to cram all of us into the remaining three bedrooms on the second floor.
My parents naturally took the largest, and I was dismayed when my father told me that the other two rooms would be going to Lexi and Bridget. They were both older at 16 & 17, and he said that it was only fair. As for Katie and myself, he told me, we would have to share the attic.
Now, this wasn’t as bad as it sounds. This was no country barn. The attic was spacious, larger than the other bedrooms, and even had it’s own separate thermostat and bathroom. I was less than thrilled though, at having to share a bedroom with my sister. Dad insisted that it was only temporary, and that he’d build a partition through the room as soon as he could, but for the time being, we’d just have to deal.
Katie and I ghetto-rigged up a divide through the middle of the room by hanging some sheets from the ceiling but there were small slits where the sheets met through which inquiring eyes might peek. It was less than ideal but I endured it for my dad’s sake. The three sisters were not getting along as well as he’d hoped - because the Franklin girls were bitches - so I kept my mouth shut as a favor to him.
I spent most of my time outdoors anyway. I had been a pool guy for two weeks and despite my reservations, I was actually really enjoying it. The stock boy had been right - the job was cake - and Derek and Drew actually were really cool people. Both were older than I was, Derek being 21, and Drew, 18, but they immediately started treating me as an equal, for which I was extremely grateful. Not only did I need new friends after having to leave mine back in PA, but it was also nice to be around guys for a change. There was entirely too much estrogen at home.
We would all arrive at the car yard at eight, and drink coffee and bullshit for an hour while stocking the vans. I didn’t really like coffee but everyone else drank it and I wanted to fit in. Around nine, Derek would drive us to our first house. Derek always drove and Drew always sat shotgun, leaving me to crouch in the back with all the chemicals.
After we arrived, we would start by unloading the equipment and making sure to disarm any alarms and avoid any dogs. Then, Derek would just leave for a while. Sometimes, he would enter our clients’ homes - he had keys to all of them - and sometimes he would drive away, leaving Drew and I to sweep, clean, and treat the pools. For the first few days, I just focused on learning the basics from Drew, but after while had passed, I asked him about it.
“Where does he go?” I asked, watching Derek enter through the backdoor of the Morrison home. Drew peeled off his shirt and I followed suit. Southern California is always hot and sunny, and it had become our routine. I was actually starting to get a nice tan.
“Derek has an existing relationship with many of our clients,” Drew answered vaguely. “They like to have some face-to-face time with him. It’s one of the reasons people come to us even though our competitors are cheaper. We offer a personal touch.”
I nodded but I didn’t understand. “He’s just talking to the client?” Drew nodded and stooped to measure the Ph level.
“Basically. If they’re home, he’ll pop inside to make sure their needs are being met, or if they work nearby, he’ll stop over for a chit-chat.” He smiled and paused to consider his words. “He has a way with people,” he explained, and I thought I understood that well enough. Derek was an extremely charismatic guy, in addition to being extremely good-looking and physically fit. He had that X-factor that I couldn’t identify. People just wanted be around him. Drew was the same way, honestly, and I considered myself lucky to be assigned to their van. As it turned out, luck didn’t have anything to do with it.
At some houses, their roles were reversed. Drew would disappear for a spell and Derek would stay with me to clean. I guessed that some people preferred to deal with one over the other. Drew and I would talk mostly about music, movies, or videogames, but whenever Drew was absent, Derek often passed the time by giving me odd nuggets of advice.
“Do you shave yet?” he once asked me.
“Not really.” I’d shaved a handful of times when I got mangy but my facial hair was only starting to become thicker.
“You should start doing it every other day or so,” he said. “Otherwise, at your age, it will come in splotchy. Besides...” he said, running his fingers across his own hairless chin, “ ... the ladies love a smooth face.” Nothing was more important to me at that point than finding myself a lady and since he was older, cooler, and better-looking than me, I took the advice. A guy like Derek had to be practically buried in pussy.
“You should also shave your stomach,” he said the next day. “That little bit between your pecs too. Chest hair can be attractive for older guys, but you have a good body. A smooth chest and stomach will make your muscles pop. Bring out that six-pack.” I blushed because what I had could barely be considered a six-pack. I wanted one and worked abs three times a week but I couldn’t eat enough protein to match my growth. But still, I took a razor to my stomach the next day and it did look more defined.
In this same way, over the next two weeks, Derek convinced me to buy myself some nicer shoes and tighter jeans, cut out most sugar and salt from my diet, start using whitening strips, and even exchange my beautiful long hair for a short crew cut and some styling wax. At first, I was VERY apprehensive about cutting my hair, but when I got home that day, Lexi actually stopped short upon seeing me and nodded once. “Much, much better,” was all she said before walking away, but it had been enough to make me smile. After living together for two weeks, Lexi appeared in my fantasies with alarming frequency. If Katie had bothered to peek through those breaks in the sheets at night, she would have caught me furiously pumping my dick to thoughts of her. The pile of tissues in my trash bin was almost entirely her fault.
In any case, after two weeks, I was feeling much more confident. When Drew called in sick, and Derek asked me if I thought I could handle a few houses on my own, I said “yes.”
The first house on our list that day was a large beautiful split-level home on a ridge overlooking a valley. We unloaded the van as usual and after making sure I had everything I needed, Derek gave me a clap on the back and headed through the sliding-glass doors at the back of the house, telling me to hit him up on his cell if I needed anything. I got to work.
Now, I’ve said before that I’m no fool, even if my actions often suggest otherwise, so I knew Derek wasn’t spending all of his time “talking” to clients, although that was probably part of it. I figured Derek and Drew were simply telling me half-truths instead of lying to my face, and for that consideration, I didn’t pry further. I realized that there was something else like drugs or services, but I really liked Drew and Derek and they seemed to really like me. I didn’t want to fuck that up. Unfortunately, I ran into a snag.
This particular house was equipped with a salt-water pool. Normally, that’s not a huge deal; they actually require less maintenance over time. But the acidity levels in this pool were highly irregular and after checking the pumps and filtration systems, I couldn’t figure out why. I could’ve just dumped more chemicals than usual, but I was my father’s son, and he always warned: “Never try to fix a problem until you are certain that you understand the problem.” I called Derek.
He didn’t answer, but I immediately heard his ringer chirping not far away. I found his phone in his pack, which he’d left next to mine after unloading the van. He’d simply forgotten to take it with him. I squatted down and considered my options.
If Derek came back to find most of the work undone, he’d be pissed, and I’d come to practically idolize the guy. On the other hand, wherever he was and whatever he was doing was none of my goddamn business, so I was hesitant to start searching for him. It was another of my father’s sayings that eventually held sway. “It’s always better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.” I pulled my shirt back on and headed into the house.
The darkness inside the house was so unlike the sun outside that initially I was blinded. My vision returned after a few seconds and I started to snoop around. All was dark and quiet.
“Der?” I called. “You in here?” There was no answer. My vision returned more fully then and I realized that the owner of this house was not merely rich, but absolutely loaded. Fabulously-framed artwork adorned every wall and statues, sculptures, and vintage electric devices like antique cameras and typewriters occupied pedestals and tabletops. The kitchen was all mahogany and stainless, and a 70 inch curved television sat on a low corner table. I hoped to one day live in a house so well-appointed, but I tried to focus on the task at hand. I yelled again with the same result then took off my shoes before I started searching. I’m not a complete savage.
I followed the back hall to the foyer to the dining room to the den, but I couldn’t find Derek or whoever the client was anywhere. I called Derek’s name again, but not as loudly. Something about being in a strange dark house made me feel as if I ought to be sneaky. Eventually, a loud exclamation alerted me that he was upstairs, but it wasn’t my yelling, or even Derek’s. The voice belonged to a woman.
“Ooohh, Jiminy cricket!” The scream was so unexpected and so bizarre that it stopped me dead in my tracks. Jiminy Cricket? I didn’t know what to make of it. It could have been a cry of pain, of warning, of passion, or it could have come from someone who really likes Pinnochio for all I knew. I started to creep up the steps, thinking “I probably shouldn’t be doing this,” and when I heard the second scream - the more conventional “Oh God, yes!” - I was certain: I definitely shouldn’t be doing this. But Diana had been correct earlier in labeling me a total pervert. Anything concerning sex drew me like a firefly to a bug-zapper. I was a total pervert, and total perverts never let reason or common sense get in the way when they have a chance to catch people fucking. Besides, I’d never had an opportunity like this before. Hell, I’d never seen a live naked woman before Triss. I crept on, and soon my search was over.
The door at the end of that hall was open, and as I crouched on the landing, I listened intently. There were noises coming from that room, and even though I’d only seen porn a few times, I knew those noises were the sounds of sex. The most pronounced was the wet slapping noise, the steady cadence of skin on skin, rhythmic and regular as a metronome. Smack, smack, smack. The sound was unmistakable. Somebody was getting pounded in that room and somebody was getting pounded hard. I continued down the hallway on my hands and knees, so as not to be detected.
Overtop the beat of slapping skin was the harmony, the exquisitely arousing whimpering of a woman being pleasured. It was almost constant, a warbling moan punctuated by each bodily impact, slowly evolving to a scream as the intensity increased. Still overtop this was the percussive and more random assortment of gasps and shudders, sighs and grunts. It was all a symphony to my ears, and without being able to witness the act, I appreciated hearing it all the more. It was electrifying and my fifteen-year-old body responded predictably. At that age, a stiff breeze would have given me a boner, so the sounds of real life lovemaking had me erect by the time I reached the door.
Jayla
- 13.12.2021
- 6
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