“What the…who took my rings”?
Before any of the surrounding students could even decipher what she was saying I pocketed the set in my jacket and zipped it up. There was no stopping the lemming like throngs from rushing to the exits. Being careful not to be caught paying any attention I spied on her as she ran to a Vice Principal. She pointed to her left ring finger. His eyes darted around. I could see the frustration and anger on his face just as I could read the anger and despair on hers. Not 2 minutes after all classes had been escorted back into the school once it had been ascertained by the fire department that there was no fire, the pa speaker cracked. It was the Vice Principal. He informed all in the sound of his voice that Mrs. Wallace had “lost” her wedding set while leaving the pep rally. He described it. A thin marquis stone on a thin white gold band with a matching white gold wedding band. He just knew it was an accident and he could count on the student body to pitch in and help.
I parked my bike behind the 7-11 after I got a slurpee for the ride home. I unzipped my coat pocket and pulled the rings out. Indeed it was a white gold set that perfectly matched the one reported “lost”. I shoved it back in my pocket, zipped it back up and rode home.
I was a latch key kid and consistently had the house to myself for 2 hours before dad got home. Mom always got home an hour later. I decided to take advantage of my new toy. I took the rings out, set them on my nightstand, kicked off my shoes, slid my pants and shorts down then wrapped my fingers around my rock hard cock. I gazed longingly at the white gold set as I stroked myself. I pictured how pretty they were on Mrs. Wallace’s hand.
Then I pictured Mrs. Wallace’s hand wrapped around my cock and stroking me. Her long, elegant fingers folded around my shaft and game me a handjob.
Darker, more aggressive thoughts progressively filled my fevered brain. I imagined we were sharing a long, passionate kiss. I imagined we made tender, sweet love. I imagined I was having angry sex with her. I imagined I was raping Mrs. Wallace’s long, lanky frame.
For the next 2 weeks the buzz around school was about someone stole Mrs. Wallace’s rings at the pep rally. The tough guy bad boys were the usual suspects. No one could ever prove anything. Soon the gossip turned in other directions. 3 weeks later I noticed she was now sporting a new wedding set that looked amazingly like the original one. What little was said was that apparently a janitor had found them and the hype died off completely. I ended up spending that summer making a list first of teachers who caught my eye, then my attention turned to other women who happened to cross my path.
I’ll admit it. I was fat. I was a fat and shy teen and that didn’t make for good dating material. In fact I didn’t have a real date over the course of my entire life until I went to college.
I’m not saying I was a virgin though.
Fighting this fetish borne urge was getting me no where. It was bad enough that I had all the teen angst already, now I’m adding more guilt? So I made the decision to openly embrace it. I did it so much so that I found I had little interest in dating girls my age. In fact, I so fully embraced my darker nature that I found myself engaged in behavior I found equal parts reprehensible and enthralling. To this day I can’t explain the timeline. I just don’t know how I got to where I was and did what I did. On good days I find it still turns me on. On bad days, well, frankly I wonder if I’d be better off dead.
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Aunt Barbara
Fast forward to Thanksgiving of my 16th year. I’m an only child as I said before but I do have quite an extended family. We all celebrate major holidays together. As with any other middle class family, celebrating family holidays inevitably involves drinking. I of course wasn’t allowed, given my age. Everyone else did though. My mom’s brother Rich was married to a woman named Barbara. Aunt Barbara was a honey blonde woman with a better than average rack. She had a pretty face and of all the women in our family was probably the most vain when it came to how she looked. Thursday, Thanksgiving night, we’d all eaten a full meal. The turkey carcass was already stripped bare and picked clean. The meat and veggies were all safely stored away in tupperware containers. All the adults, (I was the only one underage as the older teens and kids were off to visit friends) had graduated from wine to Jack Daniels mixed drinks. The men had gravitated to the table in the kitchen, got drunk playing cards and fell asleep. By 1:00am the women, who’d taken control of the den, were also passed out. I spent most of my time on the couch in the den between Aunt Barbara and my mom watching tv. Mom was sitting to my left, Aunt Barbara to my right.
Aunt Barbara’s silk blouse was open just enough for me to see a hint of cleavage. In her drunken stupor her breathing was deep and her chest heaved. I had a raging hard on and couldn’t take my eyes the sight. She was out cold. I called her name 3 times to make sure. Slowly my trembling hands unbuttoned her blouse. She wore a white bra straight out of the Sears catalog. With one hand I toyed with her wedding set. 2 thick yellow gold bands with a large oval stone of decent quality. My other hand pawed at her heaving milk sacs. They were so warm, full and firm. I felt the nipple harden to my touch. My erection was bigger than it had ever been. The shaft throbbed in my jeans. I was in a state of pure euphoria. I’d thought it was all about my groping my Aunt.
Then I just happened to glance downward and I saw what else was causing such a reaction.
My own mother’s hand was between my legs.
My eyes flared open wide. I thought she was awake!
My head pivoted to the left to see my mom’s closed eyes and open mouth with a hint of drool dripping from it. She was still out cold. I don’t know what she was dreaming about but she stroked my cock.
I was so ashamed of myself as I creamed my shorts.
I sat there for what seemed like forever, ashamed and turned on at the same time. Then I heard a stirring in the kitchen. OH SHIT! I was SO busted! Quickly I fumbled with Aunt Barbara’s blouse and buttoned it back up. I carefully removed my mom’s hand from my crotch, slipped from between the 2 of them and went outside for some air.
I can’t tell you how much I hated myself for what I’d done. I despised myself, horrid wretch that I was, for the wet dreams I began having over the succeeding days. There were days I just felt I’d be better off dead. Why couldn’t I make this lust go away?
2 weeks prior to Christmas I was in an awful mood. The lust was on me and wasn’t letting go. I found myself considering an idea. I denied it over and over again but it kept coming back. I tried to justify what I was about to do as just abject curiosity. Like any other large high school, we had our own requisite number of drug suppliers. I picked one that had been out of school long enough that he wouldn’t be in a position to tell anyone. I told him I was looking for something for a party. Before I even got around to my well rehearsed lie he interrupted me and told me he had just what I was looking for. He asked a few questions, crawled into the back of his VW van and pulled out a sandwich bag. I told him how many guests would be at the ‘party’, he pulled out enough pills so everyone got their share.