Bobby Gets Educated – Part I
Even when I was very young, my body was already tuned to sexuality.
I remember getting a boner when in the bathtub or shower with my little sister
up until I was 10 years old. About that time, Mom decided that we probably
shouldn’t be bathing together anymore. Funny that Mom cared about this but
blew-off worry about so many similar cases. In the bath, my sister would grab my
pointing 2″ penis, bend it down, and watch it spring back up. Even then,
somebody else touching me was somehow electric.
In general, my parents weren’t very modest around the house. They would walk
around nude in the mornings until they were showered and dressed. Since we lived
on the outer edges of the suburbs, we did not pose any kind of problem to the
neighbors. The closest house was a couple of acres and a growth of trees away.
The neighbors across the street were set back quite a bit from the lane.
We weren’t farmers, but we had a few acres devoted to a lawn, a dirt go-cart
track, and a not-so-level basketball court. Both mom and dad had decent jobs in
the city, so we always seemed to have enough money for the basics (and a bit
more).
I’m pretty sure that my parents never have changed their morning dressing habits
after all these years. It seemed natural to me and my sister, so we did the same
thing.
When I was 12, I had my first sexual encounter. Not as a participant, but as an
accidental voyeur. Mom and Dad have always been loud at night. It always sounded
like laughing, tickling and grunting. Since they played with me like that, I had
no idea that it might not be innocent fun. At school, we would talk about sex,
“pussies” and “tits”, “dicks”, but even though I had been seeing the vital
pieces for years around the house, I never had really put the parts together in
my head.
One late night when I was heading to the kitchen to get some water, I heard the
normal activity and sounds coming from Mom and Dad’s room. For my entire
pre-teen life, my parent’s door would be closed when the kids went to bed. This
particular night the sounds were a bit louder and I noticed that their bedroom
door was cracked open. Wanting to join in on the fun, I slipped down the hall to
their door, reached for the knob and froze. The first thing I noticed was four
feet sticking out from the edge of the bed pointing towards the door. Two of the
feet were connected to the backside of my Mom who was facing away from me
bouncing on the legs attached to the other two feet. Dad’s feet were pointed
upwards and bouncing up and down with the rhythm of Mom’s movement. I was about
to open up the door further when I realized that Dad’s dick was sliding in and
out of Mom’s pussy with each bounce. Now that was something new and different!
I stood paralyzed, afraid to enter, but glued to the scene. I watched for what
seemed like hours (a couple of minutes) waiting to see what would happen next.
Dad’s toes curled and his motion now longer matched Mom’s bounces. He said
something about wanting her to come with him, but it didn’t look like they were
going anywhere. Dad groaned and froze. Mom moved even faster, then stopped
moving completely, took in a big breath and squealed. That was the squeal I
always thought was from tickling. Maybe sex tickles?
I backed away from the doorway and went into my room and closed my door. The
glass of water was long forgotten. As I was slipping into bed, I noticed that my
dick was as hard as a rock. In the mornings, I’d always attributed my “bone” (as
the family called it) to piss since it would eventually go down after I used the
toilet. I didn’t need to piss this time. I pulled down my shorts and took a
closer look. It was bobbing up and down with my heartbeat. Maybe it always did
that when it was hard – I never looked too close before. I also noticed that my
dick was a little bigger than that last time I inspected myself – pushing 4″. No
pubic hair like Dad, but a kind of white peach fuzz like my Mom had on her arms.
I flipped the light off, rolled on my side and eventually went to sleep. Mom and
Dad were none the wiser to my new education.
If it wasn’t for that night, I don’t think I would have paid much attention to
my sister during our forays into puberty. Just the opposite ended up being true.
Michelle, my sister, is two years younger than me, with fair skin and rosy
cheeks when it gets cold. During the summers both of us would get good tans
because all we would wear for months were Speedo swim bottoms. Since I entered
kindergarten, we spent every weekday afternoon, and every day during the summer
months, at our neighbor’s house across the street. My parents and the Samuels’
were best friends. They had one daughter, Kelly, who was about 6 months younger
than Michelle. They were best buddies and usually did a pretty good job of
including me. My best friends lived a few miles away, so I didn’t get to see
them except at school or on the weekends.
Mrs. Samuels was the sitter. She had a sign hanging next to the front door that
said, “Velma’s Child Care”. Back then I never thought about it, but it seems
comical now that there were never any other kids but us three even with her
crack advertising campaign.
Velma was the best. She cooked; she played hard with us and didn’t let us kill
ourselves being kids. To give you a relative age, when I was 12 she was 25. I
guess if you do the math, she had Kelly when she was 16. Regardless, she always
looked awesome and usually tanned all over. She had long brown hair, big boobs,
tank tops and bikini bottoms all summer long. Tom Samuels was a couple of years
older and worked in construction. He would usually arrive home from work by
3-4pm, so he must have went in early every day.
Behind the Samuels’ property, a creek ran which separated their land from the National Forest which went back for many miles.br>
At the end of a typical school day, Velma would pick us up from school, run us
back to her house, fix a quick snack, make sure we did our homework, and then
send us outside to play. In the cooler months, she would sit on the back porch
and make sure we didn’t go down the ravine to the stream. By late April, and
past Labor Day, we would all go down to the stream.
To get there, we would hike down a small crevice under their back fence, drop
down about 50 feet on a path, and then emerge onto large flat rocks that married
right up to the stream. The water was cold year-round, but that didn’t seem to
matter to us. What was important is that we would get wet in the 3-4′ water for
hours and then lay on the rocks to warm up.
Our fearless leader Velma would usually stretch out on a flat rock that was
tilted perfectly towards the afternoon sun. Every day it was the same drill: She
would lay out her towel, set her book next to the towel, wedge her Thermos of
water between a couple of rocks, pop off her tank top, lay on her back topless,
adjust her sunglasses, and then doze off. Did I mention she has
b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l, huge, tanned knockers? She did, and big silver-dollar sized
nipples too. Those nipples puffed a bit out from her breasts. I didn’t see any
to compare for many years.
During the months where we spent entire days at the creek, Velma would shed her
bikini bottoms midway through each day. We took that as a sign to do the same
thing and we would play naked for the remainder of the day. On those days, Velma
would come down and put her legs in the water. Every time her nipples would
become tight and long – they had to be near an inch long when she first put her
toes in the water.
There were a few things I noticed were very different about Velma and my Mom.
Velma was tan and Mom was pale. Velma had big tits, with barely sagged, big
round nipples, and Mom had petite boobs that sat high on her chest with very
small, skin-colored nipples. Mom also had bushy pubic hair, Velma did not have
any. I liked the lack of hair because that was more like the two girls I played
with all day, every day. Velma also had a bigger build and stood about 5’9″ –
very curvy with no fat. Mom was shorter and thinner at about 5’3″. Both had
brown hair.
At the creek, our daily activities included diving, dozing, yelling for fun,
yelling at each other, laughing, wresting and splashing. Invariably, the three
of us would end up in the middle of the stream tickling, splashing, and throwing
each other. We were never too delicate where we did the tickling of each other.
I’m sure my dick was the first ever touched by the girls, and vice versa, their
outer labia were the first pussies I’d ever touched. Especially when we were all
naked, the girls would notice my shrunken dick in the cold water. I would make
fun of their pointy nipples. They would make fun of my pointy nipples. And then,
we’d start over again. Once in awhile, we’d get a bit out of control and Velma
would wade in to break it up. I probably caused a few extra incidents to cause
those moments to happen. She would grab whomever she thought was the primary
offender, hold that victim to her chest and head back out to dry land. It was
worth the scolding on the rocks!
The girls would also make fun of my bone, too. The rock us kids would always use
for sunning was right below and at the end of Velma’s. Our towels were laid out
in the same direction as hers side-by-side. When I would lie on my stomach, I’d
be looking right up the rock at Velma’s crotch. She always splayed her legs
apart “for that all over tan”, so I never had a bad view of her bikini or bare
pussy. If she was lying on her back, I had a view of her tanned mounds settled a
bit to the sides, but very prominent. When I would roll over on my back, there
was always a girl watching for my bone. 9 times out of 10 it was there sticking
up hard in my shorts or straight up in the air if we were in our birthday suits.
Kelly or Michelle would immediately yell “Bone!” or “Bobby Bones!” (Yes, my name
is Bobby). I guess I was embarrassed at first, but it happened on just about
every trip to the creek. The girls never tired of the joke. Kelly’s mom never
said anything about it and just leaned forward, looked at my wood, smiled and
laid back down – every time.
The incident in my parents’ bedroom happened about midway through the summer. My
13th birthday was still a few months away. The very next morning, I was already
seeing things in a very different light. First of all, when my sister and I
collided naked in the kitchen fixing our morning Cheerios, my dick went from
freshly-pissed and soft to rock-hard in no-time flat. Michelle noticed. She was
close enough to press her finger down on my dick and watch it spring back. She
said “Hey, I’m not big boobs Velma. You can’t get a bone for me! She laughed
and sat down at the table. Crap! I just got wood for my sister!?! I grabbed my
bowl and sat down across from her. My bone was still alive under the table, but
I was able to eat, then head to my room, and slip into my Speedos without any
other incident.
