In the 70's, I knew little about women and even less about life. I quickly learned in the showers of the physical education classes about my endowment compared to my classmates. In health class, I learned the dry technical details about sex, but hungered for the real thing. It was my neighbor, Eddie, who opened the door to my future with women. His dad had a collection of really explicit X rated magazines. Eddie showed me where they kept them, on the top shelf in their walk-in closet. It was nice to see men hung like me getting what they wanted. Even more exciting were the lusty, vibrant women who didn't care what the preacher thought. The pairs, trios, and groups of people having sex of every different style burned their images into my memory and my soul.
We lived in a small mid-western town, heavily protestant, safe and secure. That meant that our homes were often left unlocked. I knew that Eddie would be at band practice for two hours after school, his Mom Sara would be at garden club, and his Dad Rick at work until six, or I never would have gone there that day. I went over their wall, past their pool, in the back door, and up the stairs. I got down the box which held the forbidden images, and started stroking my long member, one hand atop the other to cover the full length. I was panting hard, blood pounding in my ears, mere moments from cumming. I was lost to the world, alone with my hot dreams. Or so I thought.
I heard her gasp, and looked up, spooked, knocking the fuckbook open on the floor. Mrs. Piper was there, in her pale blue dress and pill box hat, looking like a blond Jackie Onassis. Her page boy haircut and conservative dress were ten years out of style anywhere but the Midwest. Her face was frozen in a mixture of shock and lust. She couldn't take her eyes off of my massive member. She was in a trance, like a snake priestess before her sacred python.
