Finding my Place

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It was the late 1970s and my senior year of high school. Since moving to Denver three years earlier, I had lived the life of a monk, or more in tune with the times, a nerd. We moved to the city from a rural community in Kansas, a farming community. The population of the entire town was equal to the number of students in the Denver high school. There I was Mr. Popular – captain of our middle school basketball team, though hardly a star player, the pool of candidates being limited. On our trips back from games, I always got my choice of seats in the back of the school bus to practice our naïve and childish teen antics, eventually making out with just about every good looking girl in the school. My teen mind actively imagined going beyond second base with Judy or Kim, two of the hotter cheerleaders, but my nerves and certainly my body was never quite ready for the great leap into sexual maturity; I settled for second base, some hot kissing and heavy petting.

In the spring of my freshman year, my mother popped a surprise on all of us. She had enough of small town life, having grown up outside of Chicago herself. She was taking my younger brother and me and moving us to Denver now that my older sister was moving off to college. There were no overt signs of a marriage falling apart – no fights, no unaccounted late nights at the office. But one did notice the increasing functionality of home life. We three kids pretty much fended for ourselves, cooking our own dinners, doing our own laundry, as my mom seemed to slip away. Looking back at it today, I certainly don’t blame her. In many ways I thank her for getting us out of there and opening up new worlds to us, giving us opportunities for our education that I doubt we would have had had we stayed in rural Kansas.

Of course, that is all hindsight, looking back thirty years later. At the time, it was a shock. Moving away from dad, from the community, from Judy and Kim, from Robert and Paul who were part of my clique, from all I had known, an environment I felt comfortable in, home, was not easy, particularly for a 16 year-old. My sister just graduated from high school and like many of her classmates was headed to KU. She decided to hate my mother, blame her completely for breaking up the family, and spent all her holidays with dad. It also meant I hardly saw her over the next few years. Besides my friends, my place in our little society, I also lost my mentor, my confidant, my older sister. My younger brother dealt with it in stride, he was 11 and perhaps still more adaptable. Given the age difference we never really did anything together, he wasn’t really part of my world.

For me, at the time, it was disastrous. I was now the “man” of the house, thrust into an unfamiliar environment. The high school I attended was downtown, highly diverse, and rough. In the first week, “farmer boy” (me) was beaten up no less than three times. I was in no position to defend myself. I was shaken, shocked, and did what seemed natural – turned inwards, creating a shell around me, becoming a complete loner.

I did visit my father for a few holidays and spent a summer there, reconnecting with old friends. But it wasn’t the same. I wasn’t the same me. I stayed home most of the time watching tv rather than going out with my old friends. I even ignored Judy and Kim, despite the fact that Judy called several times asking me to a party or something.

Through the next two years of high school I slumbered my way through. I did my work, in fact I excelled, but had no social life. I didn’t go out, wasn’t involved in any school activities; it was just “me, myself, and I”, as the old Joan Armatrading song goes. Everyone pretty much left me to my own devices. At least I wasn’t into the drug scene or the emerging punk rock scene; I got straight A’s, so in their eyes, I was a good kid.

My mother was busy trying to create a life for herself. She was able to get a decent position as an office manager for a mid-size public relations firm in downtown Denver and even started to date. It meant she wasn’t around much, leaving me to watch out for my younger brother. Something I wasn’t particularly good at. I wasn’t my sister.

At school, I was a nerd, a nobody. I didn’t even hang out with the other nerds – they were math geeks, I was more into reading about history and foreign lands. I escaped into the past or some exotic place, imagining new worlds to discover, new places to be a different me. Of course it didn’t mean I didn’t notice anybody else. In the little circle of students in the Advanced Placement courses, I was keenly aware of who was doing what, who was dating whom. No, I never talked to them, but did overhear their conversations; as a “nobody” I guess they felt comfortable enough talking around me.

Being a teen guy, I also had my lusts; there was Ann the super hot cheerleader, Ms. Popularity, with hard legs and oh so perfect breasts; the object of many of my regular fantasies. There was also Katie, silivri escort one of my favorites. She wasn’t the sexiest girl, but she was very pretty, soft spoken, down to earth; the idyllic girl next door. She was tall, about my height, and very slim, short dirty blond hair, and always had a warm smile. She is one of the few that actually made the effort to talk to me once in a while. That itself was enough to make her an object of my desires.

Of course, when she did speak with me I mostly fumbled through the conversation, even when it was about an assignment I knew everything about. I lost my ability to even talk with others, becoming increasingly shy. Perhaps she enjoyed seeing me squirm or perhaps she had a soft spot in her heart for a loser guy, whatever the case I welcomed her willingness to reach out to me. It was only in school, usually just in class before the bell would ring. She never sat next to me at lunch, never saw me after the final bell as I rushed home, never a phone call, but it was enough to keep me inspired, hopeful that if I were to ever go on a date, Katie would be the girl.

All of that changed during the Christmas holidays of my senior year. I had applied for early admission to colleges and had many options, finally choosing a small east-coast liberal arts college – far from home. So I was set, ready to sail through my final semester of high school. Two days into the winter holiday I received a call from Mrs. Alexander, the wife of one of my mother’s bosses. They were desperately looking for a babysitter as their regular one was off visiting her grandmother for a few days and my mother had mentioned my availability. I had in fact babysat a few times for some neighbors and friends of my mom. Even though others saw it mainly as a girl’s job, I found it easy money and fitting right in with my shy and nerdish ways, particularly as I never went out on weekends anyway.

I gladly accepted, needing the extra money for the holiday season to buy some token gifts for the family. I had never met the Alexanders, but heard mom talk about Mr. Alexander, one of the junior partners in the firm. I arrived at their home just before 7:00 Friday night and was met by Mr. Alexander who introduced me to their young daughter, Melissa. She was a cute and confident 5 year-old, very comfortable meeting me for the first time. Then in swooped Mrs. Alexander and I nearly fainted. She was drop-dead gorgeous; long, free-flowing black hair, dark complexion, sparkling eyes, high neck, slim, a smile that would make any man melt, and braless breasts dangling freely in her low-cut evening gown. For those that remember the tv series Hill Street Blues, Mrs. Alexander was a shoe in for a Veronica Hamel look-alike contest, only with bigger breasts.

I know I was staring at her cleavage when she walked up to introduce herself as Mr. Alexander walked out to finish getting ready himself, but I couldn’t help myself. She gave a little “ahem” and smiled radiantly as I looked up, blushing and mumbling incoherently an apology. She graciously ignored the whole thing and ushered me around the house, giving me instructions and filling me on the details of little Melissa’s needs for the night. A few minutes later, Mr. Alexander returned and off they went to some Christmas party sponsored by one of the firm’s many clients, leaving Melissa and I to watch a little tv before I put her to bed at 8:00.

I knew the Alexanders were not planning on returning till at least midnight so I at first made myself comfortable watching more tv and eating ice cream. By 9:00 my curiosity was getting the better of me and started to explore their house a little, checking out their book collection and piles of magazines, hoping to find something juicy. I did find a few Harold Robbins novels and of course quite a few fashion magazines, but that was it. I then ventured back upstairs to check on Melissa and she was sleeping away. Walking by the master bedroom, I debated with myself, but finally couldn’t resist the temptation.

I slowly walked in adjusting my eyes to the darkness. I turned on a lamp on the bedside table and struck gold. Underneath were a stack of Playboys and Penthouses! But I decided to explore a little more and went straight for the dresser, soon finding Mrs. Alexander’s drawer of panties, bras, and nylons. Just seeing them turned my 18 year-old cock rock hard. She had an amazing collection of what looked like half-cup bras with matching panties, several teddies and of course a wide collection of garter belts. Items I had only seen pictures of in various catalogues in the homes of others I had babysat for, and of course in the few adult magazines I could get my hands on.

In checking out her panties and bras I came across a book at the bottom of the drawer. I pulled it out and saw that it was a photo album. My heart began to race as I slowly opened it and was rewarded with the most amazing sight – a Polaroid bakırköy escort snap of Mrs. Alexander in nothing but a garter belt, black stockings, and stiletto heals! My cock grew at least two inches and ached pressing hard against my jeans. I immediately opened my pants, sitting down on the bed and pulled out my cock as I turned the next page. Engrossed in the nude pictures of Mrs. Alexander, I absent mindedly stroked my cock, cumming almost immediately, shocking myself, shooting a load of cum onto their carpet. I jumped up swearing to myself as I hobbled into their bathroom, washed my cock and hand, adjusted my jeans, and found a sponge and some tissue to clean up the mess. I even pulled out her hair dryer to make sure it was dry by the time they returned.

Making all that noise I was afraid that Melissa might have awoken so I went and checked on her again, but she was still sound asleep. I then returned to the hidden treasure and continued to check out the many pictures. The first few pages were of Mrs. Alexander in various stages of undress, modeling her sexy lingerie collection. But then it got even better. On the next page was a picture of her on her knees in front of Mr. Alexander, his cock buried in her mouth. The picture was taken from the side and it looked like he was holding some kind of remote. There were several pages of them fucking and sucking in different positions and then came a real whopper – pictures of them with another couple. I couldn’t believe it and of course my cock was aching for attention. That night I easily masturbated another four times, but being well prepared with a box of tissue.

Eventually, I returned the photo album to Mrs. Alexander’s draw and tried my best to rearrange her underclothes as neatly as possible. After seeing the pictures of her, I had no interest in the Playboys and Penthouses, I had enough visual material stored away to last a decade.

Somehow I was able to calm down a bit and fall asleep on the couch in front of the tv, only waking when I heard them enter. It was nearing one a.m. On seeing Mrs. Alexander, I blushed, making her look at me a little askew, perhaps she thought I was blushing over earlier being caught staring at her breasts. Whatever the case, she left the room, going up to check on Melissa, saying thank you and goodnight as she walked up the stairs. Mr. Alexander paid me, and that was that.

At least until three days later when Mrs. Alexander called me quite frantic saying that their regular babysitter was now sick and they had another important Christmas party to attend. I gladly accepted, beside myself with glee at the opportunity of checking out their hidden trove of pictures and wondering if there were even more treasures to be found. For the past three days I could not get the image of Mrs. Alexander out of my mind, making me constantly hard, having masturbated many times each day, trying to find the desperate relief my cock needed.

I arrived just before 7:30, when the Alexanders were to leave. Once again, it was Mr. Alexander who greeted me at the door, thanking me profusely for my willingness to baby sit with such short notice. I found Melissa in the family room with a drawing book and sat down beside her. She commenced to show me her art work with great pride and seemed concerned that I liked her accomplishments. Then in swooped again Mrs. Alexander, walking on air across the room, she surprised me by leaning down and kissing me on the cheek. In so doing she gave me a clear view of her naked breasts, dangling free under her loose blouse. This evening she was wearing a red silk blouse, unbuttoned half-way down her chest, and a long black skirt with a slit all the way up her leg. She was absolutely stunning.

Needless to say, just seeing her, not to mention her breasts gave me an instant hard-on, making me squirm in the chair. She left her hand on my shoulder as she told Melissa to behave herself and, turning to me, she leaned down again and whispered in my ear “behave yourself too, and please try not to make any messes.” I didn’t know what to say, my mouth opening and closing several times. She just laughed as she glided out. Was she referring to my looking through her private photo album? Had she noticed the cum stain on the carpet? Or, was she just teasing me?

As they were walking out the door to leave, Mrs. Alexander turned back around, informing me they would be home by midnight and winked at me. My mind raced with what was going on, what she meant by her statement, and was the wink an actual wink. I was confused and totally turned on. However, over the next hour I had to focus attention on Melissa, who didn’t go to bed until past 8:30. It was a holiday and she felt she had the right to stay up; who was I to argue with a 5 year-old.

Once I did put her to bed, I waited about half an hour, to make sure was asleep then slipped into the master bedroom. Turning on the bedside lamp, I walked halkalı escort over to the dresser and immediately went to pull out the photo album. I took it over to the bed, grabbed a box of tissues, and enjoyed a few sessions imagining Mrs. Alexander on her knees sucking my cock or spreading her legs wide for me on her bed, the bed I was now sitting on. I eventually put it back and then picked up one of the Penthouses, thumbing through it and then reading some of the Forum letters, always my favorite part.

By the time I “read” several of the adult magazines I it was nearing 11:00 and thought it best I clean up and move back downstairs. I straightened the bed and arranged the magazines as best I could remember how they were. I took another quick peak at the photo album, unable to resist the vision.

Fortunately, I had finished cleaning up just in time. Just as I was coming down the stairs, the Alexanders walked in. Mr. Alexander was slumped over, being held up by Mrs. Alexander, obviously drunk, barely able to walk. Mrs. Alexander looked up and asked if I could help get Mr. Alexander up to their bedroom. I of course obliged, taking the brunt of his weight, nearly carrying him up the stairs and then softly dumping him on the bed.

“Thanks so much Shaun for your help, what a mess, he made a total ass of himself tonight, at the wrong party. I can’t believe him. God what a horrible night. Please, let me put him to bed and I’ll be right down. Do you mind waiting a few minutes?”

“No, it was no trouble at all. Sure, I can wait. I’ll just check on Melissa again, make sure she is still asleep. She was a few minutes ago when I checked.” I thought I’d throw that last part in so I had an excuse of why I was walking down the stairs when she returned home.

Of course Melissa was asleep and as I walked past the master bedroom, the door was closed. I went downstairs and cleaned up my mess in the kitchen and then sat on the sofa waiting for Mrs. Alexander. After about ten minutes she came down. As I heard her descend the stairs, I looked up, seeing her in heavy winter housecoat.

“I know, not the most sexy of outfits,” she said, seeing me stare at her.

“No, no…” I fumbled, not sure what to say.

She walked past me, tussing my hair as she went by, saying “you’re so cute, your shyness is just adorable, so innocent.”

She gave me a deep smile as she sat down on the loveseat next to the sofa, collapsing back and sighing deeply.

“God, what a night. Now I need a drink!” she exclaimed. “Be a honey, would you, and pour me a glass wine, there’s an open bottle in the cupboard there. Or did you find that too?” She said laughing.

I looked at her, not sure if she meant what I thought she meant, and blushed. I found the wine and wine glasses and poured a full glass, nearly to the rim.

“What, are you trying to get me drunk now and take advantage of me?” she asked, laughing gaily.

As usual, I just looked at her dumbfoundedly, not sure what to say or do. I brought her the glass of wine then returned to the sofa and watched her take a few sips.

“Well, now that William is passed out upstairs, Shaun I do need to ask you a question.”

Her seriousness caught me off guard. “I hope it is nothing with Melissa – I really enjoy babysitting her, she is one of the funnest children I’ve baby sat. She is so engaging.”

“No, no, it isn’t her. She really likes you too, she said she likes you as much as her regular babysitter, Katie – and that is quite the compliment from Melissa.”

“Katie? Is that Katie Burns?”

“You know her? Of course you would, you probably go to school together, don’t you?”

“Yeah, we have several classes together,” I replied.

Mrs. Alexander looked at me with one of her funny looks again, as if she was trying to read me or make sense of something; which of course, I didn’t follow at all, being so totally naïve.

“No, there are definitely no issues with Melissa. That isn’t the concern,” Mrs. Alexander said with some firmness, not in her usual gleeful way.

“I know this isn’t easy, I know you are young with an active imagination, but let me just be direct. Is that OK?”

“Yes,” I replied nervously, having no idea where this was going but dead afraid my indiscretion of fumbling through her personal items was found out. I couldn’t look her in the eyes, staring down at the carpet in front of me.

“Let me just say it, I know what you did on Friday while you were here, and probably did again tonight.”

I tried to speak, mumbling something like I’m sorry, it was an accident, I didn’t mean any harm, I promise I won’t do it again. What actually came out, I’m not sure. But she did start laughing.

“An accident? That’s cute,” she said, smiling and laughing, she didn’t seem to be angry, so maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Now she switched her tone turning to me acquisitively and staring me straight in the eyes, “How did you accidentally open my dresser drawers? And then accidentally pull out my photo album?” She asked sternly, but her eyes had a glint in them that made me think she wasn’t as angry as her tone.

“I… I… I don’t know. I’m sorry.” I of course couldn’t look her in the face, turning my head down to my lap.

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