Life on Bedlow Street
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Teenagers, Historical, Cheating, Interracial, Voyeurism,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The Lostridge family is nice, normal and routine. Or are they? Summer's coming and hidden passions begin boiling over, threatening their idyllic household. At work, Dad's "training" a new associate while his wife's lust starts to get the better of her at home. Their son, Bud, spies on his dream girl as Rebecca, their daughter, tries to decide when and how she'll give up her virginity. What secrets are they hiding under a veneer of 1920's respectability?
It was early on Tuesday, the 18th of May 1925. The small coastal town of Kingsport, Virginia was still waking up. The spring morning's cool, bright sun shone through the window of a white clapboard house on Bedlow Street. A pool of sunlight illuminated a young man lying on his bed. His fist was a blur of motion along the length of his cock. His body tensed, the tendons on his neck standing out like halyards.
His eyes were screwed shut in pleasure. In his mind, Kelly Parker knelt in front of him in her cheerleader uniform. Her red lips made a perfect ring over his throbbing manhood and her blonde ponytail bobbed back and forth as she swallowed his shaft over and over again. She removed his cock head from her mouth and licked its plum colored tip like an ice cream cone. "I can't wait for you to make me a woman," she said in his dream, her voice husky with pent up lust.
His thin hips jerked toward the ceiling and thick white cream spewed from his prick. Spent, he groaned and rolled onto his side, holding his cock so that his seed didn't drip onto the bedspread. He reached over to his nightstand for a tissue and wiped his cock clean, just like he did every morning. He normally relieved himself before school, something he was sure all 15-year-old males did.
"Bud. BUD!! Come down for breakfast or you'll be late for school."
Bud Lostridge wiped cum off his hand and pulled his trousers on. He was almost out of the room when he remembered the book he'd borrowed from his buddy, Thorny. Thorny called it a "blue book" and said that his dad had bought it at McPherson's Dime Store "behind the news counter." They'd spent a few afternoons in Bud's old treehouse, unselfconsciously pulling at their peckers while they studied the grainy pictures of plump women and skinny men in strange positions. Bud took a last look at the picture book and stuffed it into his desk drawer before running out of the room.
His mother stood at the foot of the stairs. Her green eyes sparkled, the way they always did when she was starting to get mad. Bud thundered down the stairs and she stepped aside, like a matador in the corrida. As usual, her auburn hair was perfectly arranged and the pleats of her dress razor sharp.
"Robert Jefferson Lostridge Junior, you're going to be late," she said as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She stuffed an apple into his hand as he ran out the front door.
"Rebecca," Harriet Lostridge shifted her attention to her 18-year-old daughter. "Stop primping and go to school."
"Mother," Rebecca whined. The 18-year-old adjusted the way the large letterman's sweater hung around her neck one final time. Her starched white blouse showed off her large breasts admirably.
"She's got my figure," Harriet thought, "All boobs and curves. Not like these flapper girls that are all the rage."
"Lance will be here soon. I won't be late," Rebecca said.
Before Harriet could respond, her husband trotted down the stairs. "Gotta run," he sang and stuffed his hat on to his head. Harriet slowed him down long enough to allow her to straighten his tie and give him a kiss on the cheek.
"I'm going over to the diner for lunch with Scooter, so tell Millie not to bother making anything for me," he said as he dashed through the front door.
He'll come home smelling like cigar smoke and beer in other words, Harriet thought as RJ ran down the porch steps toward the street. Over RJ's shoulder she saw a small Model T rattle up to the curb. "Becca, Lance is here."
Rebecca skipped down the front walk as her tall, muscular, boyfriend held the gate open for her. "Bye, Mom," she called from the car as Lance pulled away in a cloud of smoke. Harriet caught herself staring at her daughter's boyfriend. Rebecca called him a dreamboat and, looking at the six foot tall, blonde, blue eyed Lance, Harriet had to agree.
With everyone on their way to start a new day, the house still for the moment, Harriet paused to look at her reflection, turning to see herself from all angles. "Still a good looking ol' broad," she murmured to herself. She had retained her figure despite being 37 years old and having had two children. She was particularly proud of her breasts, the large globes having not lost their battle with gravity. RJ used to love to play with them, she remembered, not that he's shown a lot of interest in the last few years.
She retreated down the hallway to the kitchen. A petite black woman stood over the sink doing the dishes. Harriet poured herself a cup of coffee and glanced at the front page of the newspaper.
"Mawnin, Miz Harriet," the colored girl said. "I suppose Mistah RJ will be lunching down to the diner?"
Harriet picked up her purse and checked her reflection in the mirror of her compact case. "Yes, and I will be at the McPherson's until about two." She picked up her hat and gloves, checking her reflection one last time. "Just start the roast as usual. We'll have dinner at five thirty."
Millie didn't look up from her sink as Harriet left the house. She just smiled to herself and put a soapy dish under the rinse water. Ever since Prohibition had started, Mister RJ had gone to Dennehy's Diner for a beer and a whore on Tuesday and Miss Harriet had gone to play mah-jongg and have a cocktail with the ladies. Millie shook her head and dried her hands.
After almost a decade of washing, cooking, and cleaning, she knew the family's routine like the back of her hand. The Lostridge family was as regular as clock work. Regular. Right down to Mister RJ's night to give pretty Miss Harriet her weekly ration of loving. Bed sheets never lie, she thought.
Even though she'd just turned 20, she'd been the Lostridges' maid for almost 10 years. Her momma had been the Lostridge family cook and had brought her into the house as a nursery maid and playmate for Bud. Even though she was only 5 years older than the boy, she'd come to the house every day except Sunday and helped Harriet with the housework and the children. Since her momma had passed away of influenza right after the war, Millie had been cook and maid for the Lostridges. The work wasn't too hard and the Lostridge house was better than working in a factory.