26 Stoneybrook Lane

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Prologue: I wrote this several years back. I am beginning to write again but still cannot get myself to finish “Of Sisters and Brothers”. This particular story takes time in developing so for those challenged by the constraints of time and the urgency of their prurient needs you’d be better off trying something else … this one’s not for you!

*****

The News:

It was the summer of 2007 and I had just moved to New York, working as a Research Analyst for a large Brokerage firm on Wall Street, when I received a call from my Mom telling me that Eddy Noam, a kid I’d grown up with had been killed in Iraq. Eddy and I had been friends, well maybe more than just friends … we had been good friends until careers and distances had tempered the bonds of our friendship.

I had heard that he had shipped out to Iraq as a member of the First Brigade with the 10th Mountain Division and was in the dangerous southern region of Al Basrah. There is always the potential risk of death that accompanies assignments like these but our cerebral mechanism precludes us from focusing on worst case scenarios and I was pretty certain we’d share a beer and some laughs when he returned. So, the news of his death came as a shock to me.

For a moment everything around me seemed to slow down. I felt my eyes defocusing, my mind racing and the bustle of the office taking place in slow motion – it was surreal. Eddy had volunteered; he didn’t have to go to that godforsaken place but he wanted to do his share. He had been a doctor and now he was dead? Damn! I couldn’t wrap my mind around that … what a bloody waste!

Growing up Eddy and his sisters, Marybeth and Sandra, had played a major role in my life and my mind suddenly flooded with memories, a Pandora’s Box of steamy incidents which I had kept securely locked away only to be accessed when I was alone. I found my thoughts wandering back to Stoneybrook Lane and the little town in the Great Plains bordering Canada … a ‘nowhere’ place like every other small town in the US.

I spent the next few days trying to shake the images of Eddy and his sisters from invading my thoughts but wasn’t having much success. I was being chased by pink elephants and blue mice … they were everywhere. I was even dreaming about them – of pretty, blue-eyed Beth in her rainbow colored, cotton dress and Sandra; sexy, seductive Sandra, who had been the central figure in my juvenile wet dreams. I was stuck in a funk like some old forty five with a deep scratch playing the lines of the same song over and over. It was driving me nuts and I finally decided to do something about this. I had to get some sort of closure or run the risk of getting fired.

I took a couple of days off and headed out. It took me the better part of the day to get there and after a long drive from the airport I finally pulled up in front of the old house and got out of the rental. I stretched my legs and looked around and though the house hadn’t changed a lot, there was an unmistakable air of rural decay. I looked across at 26 Stoneybrook Lane, the house which the Noams had called their home. The paint on the White Picket Fence was peeling and the once manicured lawn was un-kept and overrun with weeds. I scanned the neighboring houses and they were all in various stages of disrepair; a picture of decrepit gloom. This was what was left of the stomping grounds where Eddy and I had run the gauntlet to manhood.

I crossed the street and walked up the short, flagstone walkway and knocked on the door. The Star of David carved into its veneer was chipped and faded in places but was still quite visible. Mr. Noam was a Jew and though Mrs. Noam was Swedish, they were of Jewish faith. We had had our share of anti-Semites in the neighborhood and it hadn’t been easy for Eddy or his sisters.

I knocked again and the door opened to a small crack and behind it was an old, white haired lady.

“Yes …?” she asked her face etched with suspicion.

“Hi” I said, offering her a friendly smile, “I’m sorry to bother you, Ma’am … I’m Jason Tabor and I grew up across the street.” I turned and pointed to the small Ranch style house which had been home many years ago.

She looked unsure and watched me carefully trying to figure out what I was doing there.

“I used to know the family that lived here, Mr. and Mrs. Noam. Eddy, their son, was my best friend,” I paused then continued, “he was killed last week in Iraq and I wanted to come back here, I’m not sure why but I’m hoping that coming back will help me put Eddy to rest …” my voice trailed off.

I could see her going through the cognitive process, trying to make a quick decision about me but she still seemed unsure. I didn’t expect her to understand, hers was an older generation and now … now, the times were so different.

I needed to reassure her; I hadn’t come all the way here just to turn and walk away.

“Here, Ma’am, take a look at this.” I said quickly.

I had anticipated some skepticism and had come prepared. I pulled out the pictures güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri I had with me and pushed them through the opening towards her. There were photographs of all of us as kids playing in the yard and though it was years ago, I was sure she would recognize the house.

“These are pictures of us; Eddy and me and his sister Beth and that one is Sandra, the elder sister,” I added as she took them from me.

She studied them for a while and then opened the door and smiled broadly, reminding me of my grandmother.

“Come in, please come in … you can never be too sure these days.” She said, then turning she called out, “Peter? Peter, we have company.”

She led me to the living room and asked, “What did you say your name was again?”

“Jason” I paused and then repeated “Jason Tabor … we lived at 23 Stoneybrook. My dad was Michael Tabor and my Mom was Ann. You didn’t know them by any chance, did you?”

“No, I’m afraid we didn’t know too many people here,” she said and then added, “I’m Martha and that’s my husband, Peter.”

It didn’t surprise me that they didn’t know my parents, we had moved out a lot earlier than Eddy’s family. However, they had known the Noams and had liked them – in fact, they had met Beth who was at home when the house was sold to them.

“Do you want some coffee, Jason?” she asked.

“Yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble, ma’am.” I answered.

“Call me Martha or Mrs. Jacobs but I prefer Martha!” she added before disappearing into the kitchen.

They were curious and saddened about Eddy and we sat talking for a while reminiscing about the ‘good old days’. In the background I could hear the faint strains of Beethoven or Bach, it was something classical and soothing – I couldn’t be sure. I was a hardcore Rocker and rarely listened to anything else.

I could sense that they were warming up to me over the cup of much appreciated coffee and the homemade apple cake. The coffee hit the spot and I felt rejuvenated and wanted to get on with what I had come here to do.

“Do you mind if I looked around and went up into the attic?” I asked and then added, “I won’t touch anything. As kids, Eddy and I spent a lot of time there.”

They looked at each other and then the old man shrugged and said, “Sure, make yourself at home. No one has been up there in a while, in fact, I don’t think we have ever been to the storage room.”

“Let us know if you need anything and don’t get your clothes dirty!” she added pointing to the stairway and then picked up the cups and headed for the kitchen.

*******

Memory Lane

The old man was right – it was pretty evident that no one had been up here in ages. There was the musty smell of mold and the room was covered in layers of dust. I turned on the light and walked over to the wall where Eddy had cut out the peepholes years ago and was surprised to find that they were still there. In fact, most of the room was exactly as I remembered it – the big wooden chest that Eddy and I used to sit on, the stacks of Time, Newsweek and Good Housekeeping magazines, plastic bags jammed full of clothing and bundles of old newspaper neatly tied together. No one from Eddy’s family had bothered coming up here when they had moved out. They had left in a hurry so I understood how this place might have been overlooked.

I peered into the other side through the peephole almost expecting to see Sandra on her bed, stretched out languidly like some wild, golden cat, putting on a show for us. I recalled the very first time we saw her masturbating … she was lying on her back with her fingers buried inside her swollen twat, her legs were spread wide with one knee raised while she squeezed and pulled on her pointed nipples. Her head was hanging over the edge of the bed with her flaxen hair cascading thickly to the floor – I will never forget her expression as she stared back at the eyes glimmering voyeuristically through the holes in the wall.

I had no idea what she was doing except that it was hypersexual and incredibly exciting and my cock was harder than I ever remembered it being. It was our coming of age; the summer of 1995, the summer of Sandra and Beth Noam.

The large attic had been divided into two rooms. On one side was Sandra’s bedroom and the other was used as a storage space. It was here that Eddy and I spent our weekends spying on his sister. Sandra was three years older than Eddy and was a gorgeous girl. She was on the cheerleading team and to us she was as beautiful as any centerfold Playmate or Penthouse Pet. In many ways it was Sandra who opened that mysterious door to our sexual awakening; our transformation from boys to men and the loss of innocence during that fateful summer.

A while back, Eddy had discovered his father’s secret collection of Penthouse magazines and when his parents were out, we would sneak them into the attic where we read the letters and ogled the beautiful nudes. Since he was a bit older than me he had taken point on güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri the road to our sexual enlightenment and as part of this game, each of us had had to pick a letter from the Forum to read out loud. I noticed that Eddy always selected letters which involved incest, especially between brothers and sisters.

I would listen with curious attention, strangely titillated by the notion of sibling sex. I was an only child and though I found the topic to be slightly disconcerting I was also intrigued and excited by it.

“Have you done anything with Sandra?” I asked, after one particularly steamy letter about a girl who had seduced her younger brother.

“No … well, not really. I’ve jacked off into her panties!” he replied, unashamed of his interest in his sister.

“No way! You’re kidding! Her panties …? How?” I stuttered.

“Mom still does Sandy’s laundry. It’s easy … after I’m done I just throw them back into the wash!” he sounded proud and like it was nothing, like that’s what brothers did with their sister’s panties … just a normal thing!

“And, how about Beth? You two do anything?” I persisted.

He hesitated then looked away before answering, “No, I’ve thought about it but Mom’s always home. Hey, I did watch her undress …”

At least he was honest and I wondered what Beth would look like without her clothes. She was very pretty with big blue eyes and full, sensual lips.

“Who would you like to fuck, Sandra or Beth?” he countered which caught me off guard.

I hesitated and then stammered, “Beth, I think.”

Then unsure of what he wanted to hear, I added, “Wait, maybe Sandra … no, um … it would have to be Beth. Hey, they are both beautiful and any man would want to do them both!”

He looked at me with a strange expression and then laughed, “Yeah, you’re right but how would you know, you’re not a man!” he added and we laughed some more.

I felt uncomfortable talking to him about my fantasies involving his sisters and let the conversation die.

It was a week later, during our Penthouse ogling ritual that we heard the rustling sounds of tangled feet accompanied by soft laughter wafting from Sandra’s bedroom sending us dashing to our respective peepholes. What I saw has remained indelibly imprinted on my brain.

Sandra was on her knees pulling down the jeans of a good looking young man. He had the look of a fifties Rocker, like a modern day James Dean in ‘Rebel Without a Cause’. He was obviously Mediterranean, Italian or Greek, hairy and very muscular with thick, wavy black hair and bright blue eyes which contrasted starkly with his tanned skin. But it was his penis that was remarkable – it was short, about four inches long, and very thick with a tip which was shaped like a huge acorn flaring prominently out at the ridge. The root of his shaft sat on top of an enormous set of balls, the biggest I had seen, and when she began stroking him, the bloated dome resembled a red, puffed out, angry toad. He had his eyes scrunched tightly shut with his head thrown back and had grabbed a handful of Sandra’s hair pulling her roughly into his crotch.

“Suck it, bitch, suck it hard,” he commanded harshly.

“Mmmm …” she murmured, moving submissively towards the throbbing, one-eyed monster.

She held the shaft guiding him towards her mouth and could barely get her fingers around its thickly veined girth. Her lips parted slightly and her tongue snaked out licking the tip of the engorged head while looking up at the man’s face.

“Suck it up baby, take it all … now …” he whispered lewdly, his hips thrusting towards her.

Her mouth looked disproportionately small compared to the circumferential thickness of the pulsing, crimson tool and I was amazed by what she did next – she opened her mouth wide and very slowly forced her mouth down onto his cock until her nose was buried in his pubic hair. Then she eased herself back up to the tip, all the while sucking him as hard as she could, her cheeks caving in with the effort, until finally letting the head slip out of her mouth with a loud, wet slurping pop before repeating the process over again. Amazingly as she kept doing this, his tumescent cockhead kept swelling, getting ruddier and bigger. Her lips were stretched grotesquely but that didn’t seem deter her enthusiasm while she licked and sucked the lucky bastard to the brink of carnal oblivion.

Now, both Eddy and I knew what a blowjob was but to see it performed in front of us in real life was too much for a couple of horny, teenagers. My hand went down to my cock and I rubbed myself through my jeans hypnotized by her sexy mouth stretching obscenely over the slimy, bloated head. She seemed to be enjoying the tantalizingly slow pace; her head bobbing deliberately making slurping sounds and whimpering gratefully while her fingers played with his balls and ran over the muscles of his abdomen. At one point she held the root of his throbbing stem and sucked on just the head while güvenilir bahis şirketleri her other hand disappeared into her panties. I could see the outline of her fingers as she toyed with herself rubbing her clit vigorously. I was losing control as my cock throbbed painfully in my trousers.

I released my erection and turning away from Eddy I began to shag myself. I needn’t have bothered; Eddy was too engrossed in his sister’s oral skills to notice what I was doing – he was busy wanking away, pulling fervently on his slender pud. It didn’t take long for us to reach the threshold of our orgasms and in quick succession we both blew our loads, grunting softly as we doused the attic wall with our sperm. I saw Sandra looking up at the peepholes, her eyes glittering brightly, while she worked diligently on the ravaged choad.

Soon after that she made him cum pulling her mouth off his cock while she continued to stroke the angry head, her slender fingers working the slimy, flared dome while she ran her palm expertly over and around the tip. She must have known exactly what she was doing because as she rubbed the coronal ridge of his agitated glans, he jerked, his body racked by uncoordinated spasms.

“Ohh, fuck, suck the head, baby, suck it, suck it… ohhhh, fuck …”

But she didn’t, instead she moved her head slightly to the side so we could get a good look and glancing up at the peepholes, she smiled. Then opening her mouth she stuck out her tongue and touched the underside of his cock. The touch was all it took; he grunted and moved back and began stroking his own cock aiming it at her mouth while hissing obscenities. Then he grabbed Sandra’s head as his cock distended like blowfish and erupted.

“Oh, here it comes, baby, suck it all up … suck it … ohhhhh …”

The first sticky rope of cum shot out like a missile, arcing in the air, splattering on her face just to the side of her mouth trailing down in a viscous stream of white lava and dribbling onto her chin. It was amazing.

“Give it to me, baby; give it all to me! I’ll suck you dry, mmmm …” she said reaching up and using both her hands to pump his shaft while looking up at him.

It was quite a sight; the guy was doubled over, his cock pumping again and again as ropes of viscous ejaculate shot out from the enraged tip raining thickly over her face and body. It seemed like he would never stop cumming but as he began softening, she leaned forward and sucked his cock back into her mouth, slowly draining the remnants of his juices and with an exaggerated flourish, she swirled her tongue around the shriveling head before taking him deep into her mouth again. She kept sucking him and incredibly I noticed his cock beginning to grow, stretching her mouth until she stood up and lay back on the bed.

“My turn, baby! Knock yourself out,” she said smiling lewdly as she spread her legs, her neatly trimmed patch pointing to her cunt like a landing strip.

My eyes were locked on her silvery, wet slit; swollen and puffy, spreading like the petals of a rose as he knelt between her legs. My cock had regained its vigor and I began stroking it when we heard the front door open and Eddy’s mother calling out, “Eddy? Eddy? Are you home? Marybeth? Is anyone home?”

“I’m coming, Mom,” Eddy called back.

I saw Sandra and the man look up towards the partition and the peepholes but neither one moved. We quickly wiped the wall clean with tissue paper then sticking the magazines behind a loose plank in the wall, we headed down the stairwell.

*******

Oh, Little Sister

One afternoon a few weeks later, Eddy and I were in the backyard tossing the football around when we saw Sandra with her latest boyfriend. She stopped and waved to us before they headed for her room. There was a wooden stairwell which led up to the attic from the back and this gave Sandra a private entrance without having to go through the house. We looked at each other and smiled.

“Showtime!” Eddy said and made a mad dash into the house.

As we scrambled up the stairs we had to pass the landing on the first floor where Eddy and Beth had their bedrooms and just as we reached the door to the attic, we heard a soft voice asking, “What are you doing?”

It was Beth, her big blue eyes wide with curiosity.

She was a couple of years younger than us and was filling out nicely. I could see her boobs pushing out against the thin cotton of her dress.

I was about to say something catchy when Eddy interjected, “Nothing, Beth, nothing you would be interested in!”

And without waiting for an answer he slipped into the storage room. I hesitated then smiled at her before following him and shutting the door behind me.

“Come on!” he whispered, “The show’s about to start.”

We took our places by the peepholes and looked into Sandra’s bedroom waiting in anticipation for the action to begin. I recognized her new beau; Adam Hollinger, a senior and popular kid who was on the football team. This was going to be interesting.

At first, they sat on the bed just chatting and we could sense that he was nervous and unsure. It was funny because he was trying to act cool but Sandra, on the other hand, was like a predacious spider, a Black Widow, spinning her web ready to pounce on her mate. The poor guy didn’t have a chance.

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