Chapter 1: Breaking in Brenda

I grew up a long time ago in a small village. It was, shortly after the end of the Second World War and, when I was fifteen and entering Grade Eleven, I had to board away from home to finish High School. This was before the advent of Regional High Schools.

Like most fifteen-year-old boys at that time, I was a virgin and, like fifteen-year-old boys of any era, I was horny and I hungered for sex. The only sex I had, however, was compliments of the 'five fingered widow' who gave me solace every night, sometimes more than once a night.

That year I boarded at a farm on the edge of the small town where I was going to school. My hosts were an army veteran, Lou, his matronly, busty wife, Mary, and their plump fourteen-year-old daughter, Brenda.

They were a religious, church-going family although Mary seemed to be the driving force on the religion front. Lou complained about going to church except on Sunday and Brenda seemed often to be ill whenever church was scheduled, especially for the twice-weekly Prayer Meetings.

I wasn't a member of the family, not even figuratively. Lou and Brenda generally ignored me and, although Mrs. H-- looked after my creature comforts, it was a distant, duty-bound type of care. As a consequence of this, I overheard the family squabbles, and there were lots of these. The family fights were generally subdued and they revolved around Lou's drinking and Brenda's rebellious refusal to do what she was told.

Their daughter didn't seem to be too fond of me. It may have been partly because, although I was only about a year older than she, I was two grades ahead of her in school. It was mainly, though, because they had given me what used to be her room. It was a big room with lots of space for the bed and dresser and even a desk where could work.

The room she'd been moved to was most definitely small. It had likely been a sewing room or something like that before it became her bedroom. On the rare occasions that she left the door open I could see that there was barely enough room for her bed and dresser. The bed was just a door's width from the doorway so that, to get to her dresser at the foot of the bed, she had to close the door. It's not surprising that she resented me.

Brenda was a frequent subject of my masturbatory fantasies. As I mentioned, she was a year younger and two grades behind me in school but she looked at least seventeen. Although her mother would not allow her to wear sweaters (and I overheard more than one argument about that), even her loose-fitting blouses couldn't disguise the fact that she was extremely well endowed in the breast department and I fantasized not only of having her plump body engulfing my manhood but having my hands filled with her voluminous titflesh.

It was early November when something happened that altered my view of the family. They were all out to Prayer Meeting one evening when, bored, I went upstairs to Lou and Mary's room. I knew I was being dishonest but I wasn't going to steal anything so it didn't bother me to poke around their belongings.

Wow! I couldn't believe it. In the bottom drawer of their dresser I found a small box, about ten inches by eight inches and three inches deep. I looked inside and I know I gasped with shock. There was a collection of grainy, black and white photos that were like nothing I'd ever seen before. Naked, hugely endowed men with their oversized organs penetrating equally naked, Rubenesque women in places I'd not thought possible. There were books, also, and a typewritten story that proved to be my favourite, a plotless tale that introduced me to such words as cunnilingus and clitoris. After that I looked forward to their absences so that I could enjoy their little treasure-trove of pornography.

There was one other change that resulted from my discovery that old people like Mary and Lou had sexy thoughts. After that I looked at Mrs. H-- in a different way. She became a regular fantasy partner as I experimented in my imagination with the novel (to me) ways of having intercourse described in the books.

As I mentioned, the family more or less ignored me. Now, at the dinner table, I would muse about what Lou would think if he knew what I pretended his wife and daughter were doing with me. It was about this time also that Brenda became careless around me. On several occasions I happened to see her returning to her room, across the hall from mine, from the shower, which was upstairs. It was then that I got my first look at her big, fat breasts bouncing nakedly as she hurried down the stairs, a towel covering only her lower body.

I returned after Christmas holidays, looking forward to renewing my images of Brenda and Mary for my solitary nighttime pleasure. It was mid-January when, to my immense delight, Patsy said I could walk her home after next Wednesday's hockey game.

Hockey was my other passion but I wasn't much good at it. I was the number three goalie on the High School team, which meant that I didn't get to even dress for games. The games were played on Wednesday and Friday at five o'clock; late enough that it didn't interfere with classes and early enough that it didn't interfere with homework and study.

You may wonder why walking a girl home in the early evening was a big thing? Well, Patsy was a pretty, kind of skinny, Grade Seven girl who was probably twelve or thirteen years old. More importantly, everybody said that she went all the way. And, when she'd told me I could walk her home, there had been a certain look in her eyes, as if she was telling me it would be special.

During the game, I stood close to the players' bench. Patsy stood close by my side and I was conscious of little other than the feel of her warm thigh pressed to mine. She kept looking at me with her pretty, red-lipped smile and I believed I saw an unspoken promise of intimacy in her eyes. I was a bit jealous when, several times, she leaned over and whispered to Leo, one of the star players on the team. I was almost nauseous with desire.

When the game was over, one of my duties was to deliver the scoring summary to the reporter for the local weekly paper. He lived a few houses away. Patsy said she'd wait for me at the rink instead of going with me.

It took longer than I expected to deliver the summary and, when I got back to the rink, most people had left. I looked around for Patsy but couldn't find her. I didn't ask anyone because I felt that they'd laugh at me because of her reputation. Finally, after checking every other location and concluding disappointedly, that she'd gone home without me, I went to the dressing room to get my schoolbooks.

When I opened the door and started to enter I saw Patsy, flat on her back on the floor, her slender, white legs splayed wide with Leo on top of her, his naked bottom pumping up and down as he fucked her. She was looking up at the grimy ceiling tiles with a vacant, almost bored expression. I guess I must have gasped because she suddenly looked right at me and her expression changed, first to alarm and then to a sort of sheepish smile.

Forgetting my books, I closed the door and stumbled outside. I was devastated. As I walked home my feelings alternated between jealousy and disappointment and then regret that I hadn't waited, just in case she'd still let me walk her home. A wet deck didn't deter me in the least. I was aching with frustrated desire and the only consolation I could find was that the H-- family would be at Prayer meeting until late so I could delve into the hidden trove of pictures and books. The widow would get a good workout tonight, for sure.

Wasting no time when I got home, I undressed and headed upstairs to shower, almost tripping on a wet towel on the stairs. Brenda had likely left it there after her shower and I wished I could have been home to see her without even the towel to cover her voluptuous body.

Putting on my pyjamas, I went to Lou's room and noticed two things, immediately. First, the dresser drawer was open and, second, the box was gone. Had I slipped up and made him suspect that I had found the box? Where had he put it? I looked around carefully, not wanting to do anything to confirm his suspicions, but I couldn't find it. Disappointed for the second time that evening, I went back to my room without the hoped for substitute for Patsy's charms. What a bummer.

I returned to my room, turned off the light and lay down, thinking of what it would have been like to have my throbbingly erect cock inside Patsy's cunt. My whole groin area was aching from four hours of erection and semi-erection. And I wasn't even going to be able to fantasize that I was emptying my load into one of the buxom girls in Lou's photo collection.

Then I heard a sound. It was a sort of whimpering or crying noise. For a moment the thought of haunted house passed through my mind. I'd heard of them but didn't believe in them. Still, it was an old house and a shiver shot up my spine.

Getting up my courage, I went out into the hallway. The noise was louder there and, as I bravely tracked it, it became obvious that it was coming from Brenda's little room. Had she left her radio on? That must be it. The sounds sort of came and went but I suspected that it was some artsy program on CBC. I listened a bit more, just to be sure it was from her room and then I opened the door.

I'd already had one surprise and two disappointments that night and this was my second surprise. I pushed the door open to find the room brightly lit and, on the bed, less than four feet from where I stood, was Brenda.

She was flat on her back; eyes squeezed shut, legs widespread and flexed at the knees. Her wide hips were twisting and squirming and, between her legs, one hand was rubbing furiously. Brenda's big breasts were jiggling and flopping like two bags filled with unset Jello. Beside her on the bed was the box from Lou's dresser and photos and all were scattered on the bed beside Brenda's lush, naked body.

My erect penis was jutting out through the fly of my pyjamas and I literally jumped on top of the defenceless girl, roughly dragging her hand from between her legs to expose the target of my lust.

"Whuumph... Hunnhh?" she grunted as my weight came down on her, pinning her to the bed. But, quick though I was, I wasn't fast enough for, somehow, she got her legs closed before I could get between them.

My throbbing tool drove blindly at her tightly closed thighs and, when the sensitive tip contacted the soft, warm flesh, it was like a blasting cap to my semen charge. I exploded even as I continued to try to force my way between those soft thighs and get to my objective, her cunt.

As I spurted onto her naked flesh I was, for the briefest moment afraid. What if she told? But as quickly as my fear came, it went. She couldn't tell. Not without revealing that she had her Dad's pictures and books.

"Nah... no... don't tell... " Brenda gasped and she went limp beneath me, her plump body shaking with sobs. "Go Joe... hanh... leave... " she sobbed. Even though I'd gone off, my teenaged libido was still in control and I wasn't about to pass up this opportunity. She resisted weakly as I kneed her legs apart and got my hand on her holy of holies. God, she was wet. I don't know how much of the greasy wetness was from her and how much was from me but it didn't matter.

Brenda tried to push my hand away from her pussy as, sobbing piteously, she pleaded, "No... hanh... no Joe... hanh... don't... " but I was not about to be deterred by a few tears. Her pussy was the softest thing I'd ever touched. Despite her futile, restraining grasp of my wrist, my fingers slid easily in the oily, wet fleshrolls as her body shook with desolate sobs. Unmoved by her blubbering I sought her clitoris, remembering how that body part was featured in some of the stories in Lou's collection. Brenda's legs were clasping my knee tightly as she struggled to close them.

"Whannhh... Nahhh... " she cried out when my finger pushed against a hard, slick nubbin. "Nahhh!" Although her fingers squeezed my wrist tighter, her leg grip on my knee suddenly loosened and her hips gave an upward jerk. Yes! I was sure I had found her clitoris. "Nahhh... don't... hanh... dohnnn't" Brenda whined and her body shook with another paroxysm of sobs.

Moved, and a bit scared by her weeping, I pleaded, "Please, Brenda... please let me feel you... " but I didn't lessen my assault on her swollen pussy. "Please, Brenda... you like it don't you?"

"Nahhh... hanh... but... hanh... can't... scared... " she whined weakly and plaintively.

"Please Brenda... please?" I was concentrating my attention on the hard, little button now and I could tell that it was having an effect on her. Her legs were spread wider; her pelvis was wriggling and pushing at my finger.