By Jimmy (Two) Flaherty as told to Scouries 2004
The following story is true – the names and locations have been changed but everything described happened. The presenter, Jimmy 'Two' Flaherty, is a good fiend of mine, and he recounted the story to me recently when my sister, my niece and I visited his family in their country house, the same house described in the story. While there, I slept with many of the principals, all of whom confirmed its truth. The family's lifestyle isn't for every one but spending a month with them was a wonderful experience, an experience other less open members of our society would benefit from.
May 1995, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania:
I had just arrived home from Happy Valley, my first year studying engineering at Penn State complete. I was 19 years old that spring, full of life and full of myself, excited to be back with my family, eager but nervous, knowing I was about to enter into an unknown sexual world. My name is Jimmy Flaherty, and I'm also known as Junior or more often simply as 'Two', being the second James Flaherty. Born in 1975 in Philadelphia, I was the son of two eighteen year old unwed high school seniors, James Flaherty and Evelyn Ashton.
Dad was descended from Irishmen and although his ancestors had come to America over a hundred and fifty years earlier, he still had the look and feel of someone fresh from the old sod. He had been born on the wrong side of the tracks, the son of Maggie Flaherty and some unknown one night stand.
Although I never heard the complete story, it seems that Grandma was an alcoholic, a drunk, and maybe a prostitute, and died young, probably of pneumonia, after spending a winter living rough on the mean streets of Philly.
It's amazing that Dad not only survived but prospered mightily. At ten tears of age, he was discovered malnourished and dressed in rags reading a book in the basement of the county library. Stunned to find this street urchin reading books meant for children years older, he had become something of a 'cause celebre' in the local papers.
Finally, the State entrusted his care to the capable hands of a retired couple, Joe and Edna Brown, both ex-teachers in their late fifties who had never been able to have children. He was a brilliant student from the first and this, combined with loving guidance from his new guardians, ensured his academic success. His great marks, and the connections the Browns had, earned him a full scholarship to St. Fops, Philadelphia's top prep school. It was here that he met Evelyn Ashton and finally fell in love with one of the prettiest and smartest girls in town.
Mom was an Ashton, a member of the Philadelphia elite; her father a senior bank executive, her mother from a famous shipping family. Mom grew up in the world of high society; museum openings, opera evenings, afternoon teas and debutant balls the norm of her existence.
Through most of high school they had hated each other, not so much because they were so different in background, it was more because they were far and away the two smartest students in their year, and were in constant competition for every academic prize.
I was never told the exact event that triggered their falling in love but it must have been due to that strange onslaught of hormones that eventually strikes every teenager. I was the initial outcome of that passion, my arrival the cause of Mom's permanent estrangement from her parents. First insisting on an abortion, then favoring banishment and adoption, Mr. Ashton (forever after referred to as 'That Asshole' by Dad) behaved pitifully towards Mom, finally throwing her out of the house when she refused his wishes.
I was born in August 1975; just six weeks after their high school graduation and we immediately left for Happy Valley, both Mom and Dad on full academic scholarships. A year later sis, Isabel Marie, was born, and our family was complete.
In 1980 we moved to Pittsburgh, Dad armed with a degree in Materials Engineering and Mom a graduate of the School of Education. Dad had started to work for Pittsburgh's largest Engineering firm and had quickly risen through the ranks of project management. He had been second in command of a recently completed $100 million bridge project and was due to be General Manager of a major road project starting in the fall.
Mom had taught for seven years before moving into school administration and was now a senior manager for the county school board. With Isabel, Dad and I free for the summer, and with Mom having July off, Dad had decided to tackle his biggest dream, the construction of a home in the country, on land he had bought ten years earlier.
The Browns had died in the early eighties, within months of each other, and had left Dad a good sized inheritance, money which he immediately invested in 200 acres of mixed field and woodland one hundred miles northeast of Pittsburgh. Nestled up against public park land at the base of a small mountain, the little valley was an idyllic and beautiful private world. For ten years our family had vacationed there, living in tents for three or four weeks every summer, Dad all the while planning a house that he would eventually build and live in. The fact of our availability that summer had spurred the final decision to build.
It was to this, that I had arrived home from school to that May, and I was looking forward to a summer in the country, eagerly anticipating the hard physical labor that would be required. Also the promise of forbidden sex lured me powerfully; the anticipation of what I knew was to come exhilarating.
A virgin when I had left for Penn State, I had passed most of my high school years completely unaware of the charms of the opposite sex. It had only been after Christmas of my senior year that the chemicals had exploded into my system, drowning out any attempts at rational thought, making masturbation my only pastime, every female a potential release for my raging penis.
It had got so bad that spring that even the females in my family could send me rushing to the bathroom. Sis bending over or appearing just in bra, Aunt Penelope in her bathrobe or bikini, or even Mom leaning across me, her breasts grazing my arm; all these small events would trigger erections that my hands would have to release.
And then, 'voila', that horrible time was over. My third day at University, a second year Art student seduced me, taking me to her apartment and spending two days in bed with me. I missed some of Engineering '98's initiation but Julie initiated me into something so much more interesting and fun.
And even more strangely, I was a natural at it, not only good in bed, but also good at getting girls into bed. For someone who had had no success with women before, and had never been a great conversationalist in high school, my ease around women and my sexual attraction to them was a seeming miracle, a completely unexpected gift. That fall I had made love to seven women, all students, all lovely girls who both taught me and were taught by me. I loved sex and knew it would be the most important aspect of my future life. I was having so much fun I almost didn't want to go home for Christmas, and so arranged it so I would be home only two weeks.
Home and soon horny, the sexual ruminations I had had the spring before about my female relatives now turned into true desire for their bodies. Isabel had bloomed in the months I had been away, her body now bursting with sexuality. She was now 5'8", with bright, curly, red hair some renegade Irish gene had produced, green eyes, and had a soft, white, freckled skin that seemed to glow.
Her perfect breasts, medium sized, pointed and upright, seemed to dance under the sweaters she wore, and when she wore dresses to dinner, the sight of the tops of those tantalizing white orbs, jiggling as she moved was enough to drive me crazy. As she would lean over to whisper in my ear, my eyes would travel down the hills exposed, aching to see one of her pink nipples, my hands clasped together on my lap to prevent an inadvertent lunge.
God, even Mom excited me. At thirty-seven she still had the body and look of a high school cheerleader, her short slim body firm everywhere. She was only 5'2" and maybe a hundred and five pounds, a perfect English rose with a pure white, translucent skin. Although petite, Mom worked out often, and her body sprouted little muscles everywhere, her biceps, triceps, lats, pecs and calves all perfectly proportioned. It was strange to think that I wanted to see my mom naked, to lick the sweat off her body after her morning workout, to touch the soft opening I had first appeared from, but I did, fondling my hard cock as I surreptitiously watched her.
