I sat there in the almost pitch dark room. Almost pitch dark, because there was a bit of a glow from the little light on the computer monitor signifying that it was in sleep mode. I sat there with a headful of thoughts that I wished I didn’t have. The door opened, admitting a shaft of light, and my wife came into the room.
“What are you doing in here? I’ve been upstairs in bed waiting for you for over half an hour.”
“Shit! Another one of your goddamned moody periods” she exclaimed in disgust, and then left the room closing the door behind her and letting the darkness back in.
To me they were periods of reflection. I sat there in the dark and reflected on my life and the situations and events that made me the person that I was that day.
I, Robert Gaines Holbrook, was born thirty-one years ago to Herbert and Millicent Holbrook. I came into the world a healthy eight pounds and seven ounces and I would like to think I had a normal childhood, but I don’t know because I have no memories of those early years. The memories I do have are from around the third grade, so I was seven or eight at the time. Those memories were not good ones.
It was around that time that the other kids were calling me ‘four eyes’ because I had to wear glasses and ‘fatso’ because I was overweight for my age. I got into fights at school because I wouldn’t put up with it. I usually started the fight when someone said something like that and laughed at me. It was;
“You better take that back.”
“Won’t do it.”
“You better take that back.”
“Fuck you four eyes,” and the fight was on.
I’d get sent home from school and my parents would have to go in and see the principal. My father would just sit there while my mother ripped the school and the teachers for not putting a stop to things.
“He can’t help it that he has to wear glasses, and your letting the other kids insult him is what causes the problem. Instead of getting on Bobby for sticking up for himself, you need to do something about shutting the mouths of those who start things in the first place.”
Looking back on it, Mother didn’t do me any favors by taking that tone with the school. She more or less told me that I was in the right, so the only thing that changed was that I went after my tormenters off of school property. Instead of sitting me down and giving me the old “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but names can never hurt you” talk, she left me with the idea that I was supposed to fight back. In the end, I did learn that going after my tormentors was a losing proposition. When bigger and older kids did it and I went after them I got my ass handed to me. It only took a couple of times before I learned.
The point of this long diatribe isn’t about my combativeness as a kid. It goes back to the meetings were my mother was an attack dog and my father just sat there. That is what started me down the road I’ve travelled.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was a very significant event. As I grew older, I began to notice things and it eventually became clear to me that my mother ran things at our house, and I do mean ran things. She made all of the decisions, where to go, how much to spend and on what. She told my father what to do, what he couldn’t do, what to wear and she even bought his clothes for him. His duties were to go to work, give mother his paycheck and say “Yes dear, of course dear, whatever you want dear” and do exactly what he was told.
My father was a wimp! He had no backbone when it came to my mother.
I eventually found out that it was only when it came my mother. There was one time when I was around fourteen that I was with him when we went to the mall. We had just gotten out of our car when we saw a man slapping his daughter. Not spanking, but actually slapping her face and calling her a bitch. He was just getting ready to hit the girl again when my father grabbed his hand, jerked him away from the girl and told the man to leave her alone.
The man told my father to butt out and mind his own business. My father said that it was his business to step in when a child was being abused, and then he said, “Go and pick on someone your own size.”
“Like you maybe?” the man said and swung at my father. My father blocked the punch and then proceeded to beat the living dog shit out of the man, leaving him crying on the ground. The event was significant in two ways. The first was when the man was on the ground I finally took a look at the girl and realized that I knew her from school. Her name was Pauline Langdon. I’d noticed her, but had never spoken to her because she was a year behind me. I had noticed her because she was a sexy looking girl and I was at the age where my hormones were running wild.
The other significant thing that came out of the affair was that I no longer referred to my old man as “Father.” He was now “Dad,” and he was no longer a wimp in my eyes. He still was where mother was concerned, and that fact had a long lasting effect on me. It built a mindset in my head that I wasn’t even aware of until a few years down the road.
I had just turned eighteen when I found out how much of a wimp he really was when it came to my mother, and a few things about myself also. There was a gas leak at school one day and everyone was sent home around ten. I decided to sneak into the house so mother wouldn’t know I was there. If she knew I was home, she would find some chore or other for me to do. I figured if I was really quiet I could get in the front door, up the stairs to my room and she’d never even know I was there.
The plan worked fine. I was up the stairs and had my hand on the doorknob of my bedroom door when I heard a loud, “Oh fuck! That hurts so fucking good.”
It was my mother’s voice.
“God, but I do love your tight ass.”
It wasn’t my dad’s voice.
Being a naturally curious teenager, I quietly moved down the hall and peeked into the open door. The man was Mr. Nelson our next-door neighbor and he was fucking my mother in her ass. I don’t think I will ever get that sight out of my mind.
She was wearing high heels, nylons and a garter belt. She was on her hands and knees and her tits were swinging back and forth as she was pounded. I wanted to take my dick out and start pounding it while I watched. They were facing away from me, but I was afraid I would get caught so I quickly moved back to my room, dropped my drawers and got with the program. After I made my mess, I cracked open the door, put an ear to it and listened to the two of them go at it.
“Fuck me damn it! Fuck me.”
“I could go again if you put that hot mouth to work.”
“Harder, do it harder.”
“Your ass slut! I want your tight ass again.”
The sounds, the grunts, screams and moans got me hard again, and just about the time I spewed the doorbell rang. I heard my mother say, “That must be Tim. I’ll go let him in.” I closed my door, and heard her go downstairs and answer the door. I cracked the door and I heard her say, “About time you got here.”
A man’s voice, which I recognized as Mr. Tonders from across the street said, “Enough left for me?”
Mother laughed and said, “It will take more than the two of you to wear me out.”
“I can set you up with a gangbang if you want.”
“Do it. I haven’t had one in almost three weeks.”
“A bunch of guys I work with have a poker party every other week. There would be six of us.”
“Set it up.”
“Next one is this Friday and it’s at my place. Can you get out?”
“No problem. I’ll tell Herb I’m going to an Avon party.”
“How in the hell do you get away with fucking around on Herb as much as you do?”
“It’s easy. He knows, but he also knows better than to try and do anything about it.”
“Shit! He knows about me, Will and Chuck?”
“No, he doesn’t know who, and I’ll never tell him. Now come on; I need my pussy filled.”
I closed the door as they came up the steps, and once they were back in mother’s bedroom I cracked it open again, and again listened and stroked myself. There was a lot of ‘fuck this’ and ‘suck that’ and a bunch of ‘fasters’ and ‘harders’, and then I pushed my luck. I should have stayed in my room and been happy that I’d seen as much as I had without getting caught, but when I heard mother say “I want one of you in my ass and one of you in my pussy,” I just had to see it.
Should have been no problem, right? I’d already done it and knew that I just needed to be quiet. They would be facing away from me and I would get a quick look and then get back to my room. I crept down the hall, peeked around the doorjamb and looked straight into my mother’s eyes.
She was on the bed in what I have since learned is the doggie position. Mr. Nelson was under her, Mr. Tonder was behind her on his knees and Mother was rocking back and forth. I stood there frozen. Mother looked me right in the eye and said, “Fuck my ass; fuck my pussy. Fuck me hard.” Her gaze never wavered as she said it, and it was almost if she was telling ME to do it. Or, daring me to try and stop her. I suddenly realized where I was, and I turned and ran back to my room and waited for the storm.
It didn’t happen.
There was no “Got to quit, boys. I need to run and do some damage control.” No “Oh shit! Get off me. I’ve got to get to Bobby before he does something stupid like call his father.”
.... There is more of this story ...