John + Rosemary + Me (Part One)

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My parents left town for a few weeks on a combination of business trip and vacation, leaving me, their only son, behind due to my school obligations. I was doing poorly in math, so had to attend summer school to catch up in preparation for my first year at community college. Dad worked for a large office supply manufacturing firm and traveled frequently. As he had done for many years, he took advantage of a generous expense account, which allowed my mother to accompany him once or twice per year to a destination selected by the corporation. His job was to find and develop new sales territories, and he was good at what he did.Normally, I got to tag along, which I loved. Mom felt the same way about these trips. Getting us out of the house and our routine—her with her domestic chores, club meetings and lunches with friends and me with my school—effectively broke up the daily monotony. Although some of the travel destinations included Asswipe, North Dakota, or Inbred Holler, West Virginia, we didn’t mind, as long as we could experience something new and different.This time, I stayed behind and concentrated on my studies, but not at home. At least to their sensibilities, I was not of a responsible age yet, so they sent me to stay under the careful watch of their best friends – John and his wife Rosemary.John was a successful writer of both fiction and non-fiction books, and some of his publications had made it to the New York Times Best Seller list. That and some wise investments in the burgeoning personal computer industry resulted in a comfortable lifestyle for him and his wife. John divided his time between burrowing away in his writing den, door closed, clacking away at his pale blue IBM Selectric, enjoying the fruits of his labor by traveling with Rosemary, or just relaxing with her at home.A friendly, nurturing woman with a big, toothy smile, Rosemary was a few years younger than her husband, a hippie homebody who dabbled in New Age spirituality mixed with good, old-fashioned homespun wisdom. An excellent cook, she also enjoyed working in her garden during the season, maintaining a household, and painting abstracts in her sunny studio.John and Rosemary were like a second set of parents to me, having known them all my life, although they had recently begun treating me more like an adult than a shy high school kid. Yes, I had just turned seventeen and hoped that, before long, my real parents might deem me mature enough to take care of myself. John and Rosemary were ahead of the curve, but we were still not quite free from that gray area where they still called me things like “kid” and “boy”—like I was a child—and Rosemary drove me to summer school every day in her brilliant, yellow Beetle, like a doting mother. Having no choice in the matter but to stay with them during my parents’ trip, I appreciated the change of scenery, and made the best of my situation.There was another reason I didn’t mind the stay over. Honestly, for the past few months, my wandering mind and roiling young sexuality were taking me to a place I thought I’d never be. To my surprise, I’d been harboring a burgeoning lust for Rosemary—hell, I was hot for both of them. Rosemary was like an alluring younger aunt, with a lithe body and small breasts. I never knew her age, but she looked to be thirty or thirty-five, tops. She never struck me as a beauty queen or seductress, but her pale, freckled skin was smooth and pretty, her body a pleasant combination of boyish and feminine, as natural and unapologetic as her personality. I noticed her blood-red hair had sprouted a few strands of gray, just like my mother.John had always sported an impressive physique and I found myself glancing at him more and more as I matured. During most of my stay, he went shirtless, wearing only his shorts, much to my delight. It was obvious that he worked out regularly and jogged, as was the vogue in the late nineteen-seventies. When not admiring Rosemary, I spent many hours surreptitiously eyeing John’s firm, radiant body.John and Rosemary owned a beautiful, modern home in one of the town’s well-established, middle-class suburbs. The low, ranch-style structure was mostly canopied by large, old-growth shade trees. Thick foliage surrounded the house, filtering out external noises and providing a certain degree of privacy https://escortium.org from neighbors.The back yard contained a modest swimming pool next to a partially enclosed patio which, in turn, was attached to the rear of the house. A decoratively bricked area containing lawn furniture filled the gap between the patio and pool. At the edge of the patio was a hot tub just large enough for two or three people. Since these were the dog days of summer, we spent a lot of time by the pool’s glittering blue water.When not engrossed in other projects, Rosemary could be found stretched out on a long, plastic lawn chair, lounging in the dappled sunlight in a skimpy, two-piece bathing suit. A more powerfully built woman would’ve made the suit obscene, but Rosemary still managed to make it look demure.Her body always glistened with suntan lotion, and I longed for the chance to refresh that sheen, but she always asked her husband to take care of her back. The other parts of her body she tended to herself. As a Bach Invention wafted down on us from the external speakers mounted in the patio area, I watched with great care as she dutifully applied the lotion. She’d start with her face, shoulders and arms, working down to her chest and stomach, then to her thighs and legs, finishing up with her feet.Day after scorching day, watching the two of them go about their business, my libido started to do its work. I had already surrendered to masturbating frequently, filling my head with all sorts of naughty encounters. Now, these encounters included Rosemary’s limber body and John’s taut, solid form. Initially, I fought these desires, feeling shame for thinking of them in that way. They were almost my parents, for Christ’s sake! At night, I writhed bare-assed on the bed in their guest room, beating my pole into milky submission. It took a little time for me to think of these two parent-like figures sexually, but soon, I learned to submit to my newfound desires, to relax and enjoy the ride. Now they were front and center during my Onanic sojourns.During my nocturnal masturbatory fantasies, I happened upon a pleasant discovery. Despite the size of John and Rosemary’s mid-century home, my bedroom and theirs shared an interior wall, a barrier that was not totally soundproof. Was it a minor shortcoming by the original architect, perhaps, who had done such a thorough and tasteful job on the house overall? Should the wall have been more solid and sound absorbing? Probably, but I soon came to appreciate this constructional oversight.Hence, I would often hear sounds from their bedroom—doors closing, drawers opening and shutting, water running in their bathroom, plus the ambling cadence of John’s low voice—seeping through the wallpaper, inflaming my curiosity. In the wee hours, I would awake to other sounds—persistent and rhythmic—from the other side. Holding as still as possible, I would press my ear against the wall behind my bed and listen intently. One night, after an eternity of tedious monitoring, I could make out a voice. It was Rosemary’s. As I continued to listen, I could tell she was obviously excited, spilling out a stream of words I could not make out.The rhythmic sounds emanating from their room became a dull banging. It would be barely noticeable if my ear wasn’t glued to the wallpaper. Motionless, I closed my eyes in the near-darkness, keeping my breaths shallow and slow as I tried to keep other noises from interfering with my aural voyeurism. John’s voice chimed in with Rosemary’s. To my delight, I could understand his words – the words of an aggressive lover.“Yeah, honey…take it…take it,” he said. “Horny slut, I’m going to punish your pussy.”My eyes opened wide. No doubt there was some fucking going on! Jesus, I thought, I shouldn’t be listening to this, but screw it. I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. My penis swelled.Rosemary responded, but again, I couldn’t make out specific words. John continued, his voice mixing with the rhythmic thumping. With demeaning words and tone, he instructed his wife on what to do.“That’s it, you bitch, that’s it…right there. Get that ass up. What a wet pussy you have!”More agitated noises came from Rosemary as all of my senses focused on the encounter happening only a foot or two away.“Goddammit,” John growled. “Fucking whore. Take my seed. Take it…now!”Christ, he was giving her a good workout! Despite John’s tone, I didn’t sense that Rosemary was being hurt or forced in this encounter. The sounds I heard indicated a woman getting a good, thorough fucking. The banging ramped up until I heard what sounded like stifled screams from Rosemary. My cock by now was straining against my shorts. I reached down, tugging at the elastic waistband to let it out. Once it bobbed free, I wrapped my hand around it and began to squeeze and pull.“Ohhh, Goddamn! Fuck…fuck!” John cursed as I listened, stroking my cock, imagining him crushing out his orgasm inside his wife’s body. It didn’t take long for me to feel the approach of my own climax. “That’s it, John,” I whispered to myself, “Fuck the shit out of her. Come inside her and let me watch.” I envisioned their naked bodies pounding furiously, glistening with sweat, John’s cock wet with his wife’s juices. I wanted to be part of it! At that moment, a delicious surge flashed through my loins. My mouth fell open as I fought to keep still, my young seed squirting out, making a mess on my shorts and the pillows.“Damn,” I hissed between clenched teeth as the orgasm persisted. I milked the sensation for another minute, savoring it as the climax subsided. Taking care not to make a sound, I grabbed a few Kleenex from the nightstand and tried to clean up the goo as best as I could.Everything fell silent for the rest of the night. I slipped into a pleasant sleep with the blankets pulled up around my chin. Listening to John and Rosemary fuck had inflamed my already-active imagination. The rest of the night was filled with dreams of their nude bodies in full view of my gaze, and of their hands caressing me, and my own nakedness.Skin touched skin as I suckled Rosemary’s small, sweet breasts. John held me from behind while his wife nursed, and I writhed with sensual joy between them.The last dream I could remember ended with a shuddering climax as I came for my new lovers. I awoke with the morning sun, horny and needing attention, but all I could do was, once again, beat my cock to a milky finish before hopping out of bed. Thank God for those Kleenex tissues!“Good morning, honey.” Rosemary greeted me as I sleepily trudged into the kitchen.“Good morning, Rosie.” I called her by her nickname. Clad in shorts and tee-shirt, I slid up on a barstool on the other side of the kitchen counter. My erection hadn’t yet subsided, so I welcomed the distance between us. I took note of her unusually skimpy attire. Normally, Rosemary wore a bathrobe, which managed to conceal most of her body. This particular morning, she was clad in nothing but a thin, snug man’s undershirt and red panties, items I’d never seen her wear before. Well, it was the middle of summer, and the nights didn’t cool down very much. Maybe she was too warm in her usual thick robe? Rosemary stood at the stovetop, pushing several slices of bacon around in a cast iron skillet. “Did you sleep well?” She asked. I eyed her body as she moved. I could easily see her thick, erect nipples through the fabric. Again, it wasn’t as if her naked body was alien to me. Those minimal swimsuits she wore gave me a pretty good idea of what lie underneath.“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. I certainly wasn’t going to mention being awakened by their nocturnal lovemaking.“Hmmm…” she grinned, removing the sizzling strips of bacon from the skillet and placing them on a plate lined with a folded paper towel. “You must be a sound sleeper.”I took pause. What the fuck is she saying? I didn’t know how to respond, but did anyway.“My bed’s very comfortable,” I replied, “and the neighborhood is so quiet.”“Yes.” Rosemary cracked open several brown-shelled eggs into a small bowl, added salt, pepper and a dollop of milk, then briskly swirled the mixture with a fork. “All the bushes and trees surrounding the house absorb what noise there is. That’s another reason why we love this place. Want some coffee?”“Yes, please.” Our eyes met briefly, making my loins flush with warmth.Rosemary turned to the opposite counter and retrieved a blue-patterned mug hanging underneath the cabinet. I eyed what I could, relishing the sight of her small, round ass, naked thighs and calves. Again, the sheer fabric of her tiny panties allowed me to see her butt crack, and I couldn’t stop pondering why she chose this morning to don this particular garment.She poured coffee from the percolator, then added cream and sugar, just the way I liked it. As she turned back toward me, I raised my eyes to meet her face.“Thank you,” I said as she slid the mug across the Formica counter.I sipped the sweet brown liquid, leaving my lips on the rim, inhaling steam from the mug as I watched her.“Bacon and scrambled eggs?” She asked.“Oh, very much yes, please,” I smiled. “Is John awake?”“Yes, love.” She poured the whisked eggs into another skillet. “He was up early, pounding away.” I assumed she was referring to John’s typewriter, and the novel he was working on, but maybe not. “And you have school today, right?”“Yes, Rosie.” I sighed, wanting to stay home and lounge around the pool with her and John.“You don’t sound very excited.” She moved the beaten eggs back and forth in the skillet, watching them closely until they were fluffy. The chrome toaster clanked, and two slices of browned Wonder bread popped up.“No, not really.” I took another sip. “But I gotta get my math grades up, or all Hell will break loose.”“You better believe it.” Rosemary scooped a portion of the scrambled eggs into a plate, then the remaining portion in another. “You have to get into college. No ‘ifs, ands or buts’.” Her nipples were blasting through that white fabric. God, I wanted to latch onto one and suckle like a newborn baby. So much for my erection going down.“Okay, Mom,” I smirked. “Message read loud and clear.”“You know it’s true.” She raised an eyebrow, pushing the plate of food across the counter toward me. Rosemary retrieved the toast, scraping a pat of butter across each slice. She took a bite of one piece, placing the other onto the corner of my plate.“Yeah, yeah…” I clanked the fork against the CorningWare plate, taking note of the green, cornflower pattern around the rim. The scrambled eggs and glistening butter atop the toast presented me with two versions of glorious morning yellow. “Now eat up and take a shower,” she chewed on a slice of bacon, “then I’ll drive you to school.”But first, let me get this hard dick to go away. Jesus, I’m going to have to jack off in the bathroom!I heard rustling from outside the kitchen and John’s figure loomed in my periphery. The next moment, he stood beside me.“Good morning, kiddo.” Using an old term of endearment, perhaps not one for a young man who was fully seventeen, John’s voice was low and smooth as he squeezed my shoulder. He was so close, I could smell the faint musk of his body. He was shirtless, wearing only his boxer shorts. When I turned toward him, mouth full of food, I was eye-level with his chest. More nipples, and I wanted to suck them as well.I mumbled a reply, still chewing my food. His hand remained firmly on my shoulder, his body gently pressing against mine. This wasn’t helping me battle my arousal.“Did you finish that chapter?” Rosemary asked her husband.“Yeah,” he sighed. “Finally! Getting that mess tied up was a motherfucker.”I paused for a split-second. John had never used that degree of profanity around me, but of course I was now technically an adult. Still…“John!” Rosemary snorted. “Such language!” With her brows furrowed, almost mockingly, she slid the second plate of food next to mine, and John pulled it toward himself. She tucked two more slices of bread into the toaster. “You certainly don’t use that kind of language in your books.”“Well, this one’s different, as you know,” John replied. He was still right next to me, massaging my shoulder. My first thought was why, but I enjoyed the warmth of his body and longed to remove my tee-shirt so that our skin could touch. My boner ached terribly, needing release. Arousal had formed a lump in my throat.“Honey, you need to be very careful,” Rosemary admonished him. “Branching out into pornography is a big risk to take.”“Oh, come on!” I could feel John’s breath on my cheek. “You know it’s not that!”His hand was now on my waist. What the fuck?Rosemary smiled, pleased with herself for eliciting such a heated response.“You’re such a provocateur,” he said. “If anything, it’s erotica, and that’s a stretch.”His hand slid down to my thigh as he spoke. I didn’t know what to make of it. I only hoped he didn’t discover my erection.But he did.In a flash, it happened. Then I found myself in a totally alien situation. “Damn, kid.” Again talking to me…

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