We thought we had a normal family. Mom and Dad worked and didn’t get home until six thirty or seven. When we were younger, we had a nanny. When I was ten, Maria was deported, so Sissy, my sister, and I were left to fend for ourselves.
I doubted that our parents even knew what we were doing, in school and out, for most of our lives. With Maria leaving, it left a void in our lives. We, or I for sure, began to think of her as our mother. I’m sure that she loved us too, but it didn’t last.
Our parents got the baby thing over with within the first two years of their marriage. Then they could go on about making their fame and fortune in the corporate world. I did have a sort of resentment toward them too. Whenever they were around, I felt as if they were invading our space.
We live in an exclusive and very stuck-up neighborhood. We were allowed to go out to “visit” with our friends, but we had better not let one of their parents see us with even a little smudge on us. Our parents would certainly hear about it. That is why we spent most of our time in the house, either in front of the TV or at a computer. We had several of each to choose from.
Like I said, Sissy and I were left on our own after Maria left. Mom felt that, at ten, I was old enough to take care of Sissy. She was nine at the time. My only complaint was that I had very little privacy. I was almost eleven, and I had heard most of the “talk” at school. I had reached a point in my life where I needed to lock a door once in a while. Every time I did, there was a knock, and I had to answer it. It was always Sissy with something stupid.
One day, when I was fifteen, I had locked myself in the bathroom and was at a ‘crucial point’ in what I was doing when there was a knock at the door. Usually, I could hear her approaching, but this time she startled me limp. I was pissed. I decided to startle her. Instead of pulling my pants up and opening the door, I waddled over to the door with my pants still around my ankles and opened the door. She had her fist up to knock again as I opened it. She just glared at me and then at my dick.
“You could have just told me that you were masturbating, and I would have left you alone,” she said. “Of course, if you want me to watch you...” She turned to walk away but turned right back. “Does that really feel good?”
I have always had feelings for Jane, my mother’s younger sister. While I knew that such feelings are not normal for a nephew to have about his aunt, I was helpless in controlling my feelings. Her great smell, her cute face, her perfect hips and her great tits always kept me interested in her.
Jane was petite, and at 44 she maintained a shape that would make a twenty-four year old jealous.
Jane had been married three times and never had any children. She seemed to have a knack for picking losers.
Whenever she came over to visit, I would waste no chance to sneak a peek at whatever I could.
Albert was sitting in front of the living room TV when his mother came home from her date. She glanced at him suspiciously as she stepped in the front door closing it behind her. “Were you waiting up for me young man?”
The sixteen-year-old looked down at his lap sheepishly and smiled. “Sort of,” he replied honestly.
Moura laughed and ambled behind him ruffling his hair playfully. “Worried about me Honey?”
“Well Jeez Mom, there’re a lot of crazy’s out there and it’s past midnight. Besides, I don’t trust that Dave guy.”
“And why not?” she asked stepping around sitting in the sofa next to him.
“I just don’t like the way he looks at you, like he’s mentally undressing you.”
“I hope he’s got a good imagination because that’s about as far as he’ll get,” she said grinning. With that, she unbuttoned her Pierre Cardin jacket and removed it tossing it on the sofa.
Albert’s eyes almost popped out of head as he glimpsed at his mother in her dress. “You went out in public like that?”
The Greenish liquid looked ugly. The small bottle was given to him by some filthy hobo after he gave him some loose change when he saw him in the alley near his house as he came home from school. He only wanted the man to go away.
“This is the answer to all your problems.” The man had said.
“How would this bottle solve my problems?” Jim had enquired, surprised that his coins actually reaped something in return.
“You’ll see, just spray it sparingly on yourself.”
Right after my wife died, my oldest daughter, Annie, who was thirteen at the time, came and climbed into my bed one night and gave me the surprise of my life.
"I know all about fucking and stuff, and I know that since Mama isn't here anymore, you need someone else. Since I' gonna go out and get it done to me pretty soon anyway, I thought that I should just take Mama's place in your bed."
I was too stunned to say anything, and before I could react, she had pulled off her nightgown and was snuggling her naked little body up against me. My body, or should I say one particular part of my body, betrayed me completely, and before I knew it I was on top of my little girl pounding my prick into her cunt.
The bloody mess on the sheets between her legs sort of scared me, but she told me that I hadn't really hurt her that bad and that after I really got going filling her little belly with my hot cock meat that she really loved it.
Date: January 4
To: Dr. R. Anniston
From: John D. Connors
RE: Essay/Letter For The Friday Night Group Session
Dear Dr. Anniston,
As per your request, and as required by my parole officer, I am writing to you to tell you of the events that led up to this writing. At the outset, let me reiterate that I am doing this under protest. The best way that I can explain all of this is to write it in story form so I can keep the events straight.
It began two years ago when I was sixteen. I was living my life of semi-normalcy just fine. Then it happened, as an accident, I think.
I have three sisters, a mother and a dog. Dad left when he 'found out' that he was as queer as a three-dollar bill. Now there is the one you need in these sessions instead of me.
- Older