Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
My name is Justin. I’m in my mid-thirties, which is a pretty good age to start reflecting on your past, and take stock of where you are today. I’ve been looking at some old pictures from when I was in my early twenties. I wore the cool slacker/skater look quite well. I was a tall, with long wavy brown hair that hung down to my jaw line. I wore jeans and retro T-shirts all the time during the summers. In the winters I’d add a thick sweater and jacket to the ensemble. I was very skinny at the time. Later on, my metabolism caught up to me and kicked my ass, giving me love handles and a pot-belly. I never considered myself good-looking, but in retrospect, I was probably a lot more attractive than I gave myself credit for at the time. But then again, who wasn’t? Youth, as they say, is wasted on the young. This is the true-enough story of how I lost my virginity. I say “true-enough” because many of the things in this story actually happened to me in some form or other – but not all at the same time or with the same people. Other parts have been fictionalized, because my real life isn’t really all that dramatic. For example, I made up the part about being a virgin because it makes for a better story. The real story of losing my virginity happened a couple years earlier on a futon in a dark basement den room while watching a video (in the end-days of VHS) with a girl whom I wasn’t really attracted to, but became a kind of friend with benefits for awhile. I tried to deny my virginity, but it was pretty obvious I was inexperienced. But, who the hell wants to read that story? This one is better, and truer in a sense, too. There are many truths that go beyond facts. I grew up in a mid-sized town in Northern Ontario. It’s the kind of place people come from, but few remain there permanently by choice. The main thing going in this town was natural resources jobs – forestry, fishing, etc. We also had a small regional college, which I attended with hopes of gaining some kind of employable skills that would get me the hell out. I lived with my parents, and saved money from a part time job as a dispatcher for a shuttle company that drove loggers to and from their work sites. People in my town were provincial, closed-minded, and conservative (at least by Canadian standards). There wasn’t much to do for a twenty-one year old who was into music and art and culture and gaming, and couldn’t give a shit about fishing or sitting around bonfires getting wasted every weekend. I should say that my opinion on my home town has softened in recent years. It’s not really that bad. Quiet slow Northern life has its charms. But as a young man, I didn’t appreciate them. I was miserable there. And lonely. I always felt kind of like I was out of place. The things I was interested in weren’t interesting to anyone else I knew. I spent a lot of my time alone in my room with my computer, playing games, chatting online, and masturbating to pornography. I’d reached the age of twenty-one with my virginity still hanging around my neck like an albatross. In part, I think girls just weren’t as interested in indie rock or literature as they were in drinking beer and riding skidoos (or jet-skis in the summer). The other part was that I was afraid of them. I could approach them, say hi, maybe, but from there I had no idea what to do with a girl. At that age, it didn’t occur to me that I could just have a regular conversation with them. Instead, I was always wondering how to convince them to sleep with me. I wasn’t sure what ‘game’ was supposed to sound like, but I knew I had none. Being unable to mentally solve this mystery, I shied away from women so that I could avoid looking like some kind of weird perverted creep and being rejected – or worse, having it discovered that I was still a virgin at twenty-one and had no idea what I was doing. My parents were so much my opposite, that if it wasn’t for the physical resemblance, I might suspect I’d been adopted. They were outgoing, friendly, conservative in their views, drank a lot, and generally fit right into town life. My father had recently retired from escort beylikdüzü the Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry. My mother was a secretary for a legal firm that specialized in real-estate. They played softball in the summer, curled in the winter, and participated in euchre tournaments year-round; none of which seemed even remotely enjoyable to me. They said it wasn’t good for me to shut myself up in my bedroom all the time. They were constantly encouraging me to get out more, and try to meet someone – as if it were that easy. My cousins were moving out of their parents’ homes, getting engaged, starting real careers and families. The oldest had just had her first child. It all just made me feel more and more like I was failing at the game of life. In pictures from this time, I’m rarely smiling. I smile more these days. It was August. According to the papers, it was the hottest month on record, with temperatures climbing above thirty degrees Celsius every day for the past week and a half. I’d just gotten off work, and was driving home when all the traffic lights winked out. The windows of the shops along the main street had gone dark as well. The power was out. We’d later learn that the blackout had affected a large part of Ontario and Quebec as well as much of the Northeastern US in one of the biggest power failures in North American history. As I pulled into my driveway, I saw neighbours coming out of their houses to sit on front porches and stoops. My own parents were out in their lawn chairs, with beers in hand. They’d decided to try home-brewing in the Spring. The results were only slightly better than undrinkable, but they had cases of the stuff, and weren’t willing to let it go to waste. “Hey there, Justin,” my father called, as I got out of the car. “Why don’t you go in and get yourself a beer while they’re still cold?” “Thanks dad,” I said. Without power, I wouldn’t be able to get online, so I returned to the front of the house to sit with my parents and drink their beer. People walked up and down the street, many with drinks in their hands, stopping to make small talk. They shared what they’d been in the middle of when the power went out, and speculated how long the outage would last. Some offered vague theories that the cause was rooted in the incompetency of the Liberal government, while others lamented how their electric bill was too damned high for this shit. Around five-thirty, a white SUV with tinted windows pulled into the driveway of the house next door. Brenda climbed out with a metal sculpture of a rooster in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. She was in her late-thirties, with blue eyes and light blonde hair. She was a little overweight, but not what I’d consider fat- just “meaty” or “plump” I guess is the best word to describe her. She was wearing a white summer dress with a black belt, and a pair of brown country boots. “Hey there,” my father called his customary greeting. My parents both waved. “Hi,” Brenda said, smiling and waving back. “Power’s out,” my mother observed. “Yeah, I know,” Brenda said with a maritime accent, making her way across our yard. “I was just coming back from Tecumseh Creek. It’s out there, too, eh.” “Must be a big one.” My mother had an embarrassing knack for stating the obvious. “Is Rick home?” my father asked. Rick was Brenda’s husband. They’d moved in at the beginning of April. Though we had all introduced ourselves, the couple mostly kept to themselves. What we knew was that they had no children, they were both from Halifax originally, and Rick worked in the logging industry. “Nope,” Brenda answered. “He’s been gone up the bush since last week.” This wasn’t unusual. Often men would spend weeks to months out in the bush working far North of town. The companies they worked for would put up mobile camps for them to stay at, providing room and board as they cleared an area. Temporary communities would spring up around them to provide supplementary services – liquor, cigarettes, female companionship – that sort of thing. Then they’d pack it all up, and escort akbatı move on to the next site. “So, you’re alone over there?” My mother asked. Brenda nodded. “That’s alright. I got myself a nice bottle o’ wine. Thought I’d just have a quiet night to myself tonight, and all.” “Robert!” my mother exclaimed to my father. “She’s going to be sitting alone in the dark all by herself.” “Don’t be silly,” my father said. “Justin was just about to fire up the grill and cook us some burgers. You’re more than welcome to eat with us.” “I was?” I asked. I was on my second beer, and tired from work, and I didn’t really feel like doing much of anything. Certainly not cooking dinner for the whole damned neighbourhood. “Sure,” my mother agreed. “We can’t just let her sit in the dark by herself.” I didn’t see why not. It seemed like a fine way to spend the evening. “Justin, if you cook the hamburgers, I’ve got some fresh vegetables in the crisper that I can make a salad with,” my mother continued cheerfully. They both loved having company. “Fine,” I said reluctantly. The daylight was only beginning to dim, but there’d still be a few more hours before it was completely gone. Surely the power would be back on by then. But I knew arguing with them was futile, and would only make me seem like a total dick. “Can I get you a beer?” I heard my father offer, as I went inside to get the hamburgers from the fridge. Less than an hour later, the four of us were eating from paper plates at the picnic table in our backyard. “These burgers are really great, Justin,” Brenda said. “Thanks,” I said. I figured she was just trying to suck up, the way older people do to younger kids when they want them to like them. “Justin’s a great cook,” my mother informed her. “I can tell, eh. That’s a good way to impress the ladies, and all,” Brenda said, winking at me. “I bet girls are all over you.” “Um, no,” I muttered. My face flushed, and I dropped my eyes to my plate. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” “It’s fine,” I said, hoping to drop the subject. “Justin’s a bit of a wallflower,” my mother explained. “Mom!” “Well, you are,” she accused. She was well into her 4th beer of the night. “You go to work, you go to school, and other than that you just stay up in your room.” “Julie, leave the boy alone,” my father said. “I’m just saying that if he’s gonna meet someone, he’s not going to do it sitting in his room.” “Well,” Brenda started, smiling flirtatiously. “If I was 15 years younger and living next door to you, let me tell you, your son would be in a lot of trouble, eh.” She gave me another wink as my mother burst into laughter. “Yeah, he’s kind of a pretty cute kid,” my mother agreed, mussing my hair. I ducked away from her hand, thoroughly annoyed and embarrassed by these three drunk “grown-ups.” I wondered how long it would be before the power came back on, so I could get the hell away from them. “Anyone up for another beer?” my father asked. He came back with another round for all of us. After a couple, the taste wasn’t as bad. We continued drinking and talking. Fortunately the subject shifted from my dismal love life to my parents’ various hobbies. The sun dipped further down the horizon, melting orange and purple over the rooftops. My mother stumbled inside to gather together all the candles we owned. We lit and distributed them throughout the different rooms in the house. Around ten o’clock, my father excused himself for bed. Still, Brenda and my mother carried on chatting and laughing. I didn’t have much to add to the conversation, so I just sat and listened as my mother shared gossip about our neighbours. Brenda told us about her own life in Halifax. When she was younger, (my age, she noted), she’d been pretty wild, partying all the time, dating all kinds of guys, and having a great time. But she settled down when she met Rick. They still had fun, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Brenda said she missed Rick a lot when he left to work in the bush. She even confided to my mother, after her 4th beer of the night, that one of the things she escort beylikdüzü missed most was the sex. This sent my mother into another loud fit of drunken laughter. Brenda again reminded me how lucky it was that she was older than me, or else there would have been all kinds of trouble. “He could use a bit of trouble, in my opinion,” my mom said. “Jesus! Mom!” I protested. “Look at him!” Brenda laughed. “He’s so cute when he’s embarrassed! Oh, the things I’d do to you if I was your age, eh!” “How about another beer?” My mom asked, standing shakily. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” I asked. “No. I. Do. Not.” she answered, emphasizing each word. “No more for me,” I said. “Brenda?” “I probably shouldn’t… oh well, what the hell. Maybe just one more.” My mother staggered off to the kitchen. “You know we’re just joking with you, eh?” Brenda asked me. “Yeah, I know,” I said. “We’re just having fun. Your mom’s hilarious,” Brenda continued. “It is really cute when you get all embarrassed, though. It gets me all warm and tingly, right here.” She clutched her breasts through her dress and began squeezing them. My mouth dropped open, and my eyes widened. Brenda just laughed at my reaction. “Boys are just too easy to shock. Too cute!” she repeated. My mother came back with two more beers. She handed one to Brenda and then collapsed on the sofa. “Mrs. Davis, I wish I could borrow your son and just take him home with me,” Brenda announced with mock formality. “Take him! Take him!” my mother shouted, and shrieked with laughter. “If only, I was his age…” Brenda said again. She gave me another wink, and bit her little finger flirtatiously. I knew they just enjoyed seeing me squirm, but this flirtation was starting to cross boundaries. I felt my groin beginning to stiffen, and had to remind myself that Brenda was older than me, and married, and just teasing to get a rise out of me. Well, she was definitely getting some kind of rise. But, in front of my mother, it was awkward and uncomfortable. I just wished they’d both stop. Suddenly, the lights flickered back on. Various machines beeped and clicked and whirred into revival. It was just past eleven at night. “Finally,” I said, standing. “What?” my mother asked. “You’re leaving us?” “Uh huh,” I said. “Can’t take us teasing you anymore?” Brenda asked. “No,” I denied, “It’s just… I’m tired, is all.” “It’s okay,” Brenda said, feigning melodrama with her forearm against her brow. “I’ve been rejected before, eh. I’ll get over it.” “Justin, sweetie, before you go, can you just go around and blow out all the candles?” my mother asked. “Sure.” As I bent over to extinguish the candles on the coffee table, Brenda whistled and commented on what a cute butt I had, much to my mother’s drunken amusement. She again declared what kinds of trouble I’d be in if she were my age. Quickly, I put out the rest of the candles in the kitchen and the washroom before disappearing down the hall to my bedroom. The wooden door clicked shut behind me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Tomorrow this would all be an awkward memory, and everyone would go back to acting like normal people. But still, the thoughts of Brenda wouldn’t get out of my mind. Her flirtatious looks, biting her finger, squeezing those large breasts together. They looked so big and soft. I wondered what they felt like. I got undressed, turned out the lights, and got into bed. I kept thinking about Brenda, and what she’d do to me if she were younger. I tried picturing her as a twenty-one year old with her blonde hair, and big tits, and she probably had a great ass then, too. I thought about her creeping into my bedroom, and started to get hard again. My right hand reached down, and began to slowly stroke my stiffening cock. After about seven minutes, there was a knock at my door. Before I could answer, it opened a crack allowing a sliver of light from the hallway into my bedroom. Instinctually, I grabbed a pillow and covered my boner with it. “Justin, are you still awake?” Brenda asked, barely above a whisper. “Huh?” I responded in a voice I hoped sounded like I’d been asleep. The shaft of light from the doorway expanded, and then quickly vanished as the door clicked shut with Brenda on the dark side of it. I felt the right side of my mattress flatten as she first sat, and then lay down on my bed next to me. “Hey,” she said. “Hi,” I said breathlessly.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32