Diary of a Masher
Prologue

Copyright© 2014 by John Evans

Coming of Age Sex Story: Prologue - This is a Coming-of-Age story about Stephan Zaworski. It takes place in Nick Scipio's Summer Camp universe and my thanks to Nick for letting me borrow part of it.

Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   mt/Fa   Fa/Fa   Teenagers   Consensual   Reluctant   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   School   Workplace   Incest   Mother   Son   Brother   Sister   Father   Daughter   Gang Bang   Group Sex   Orgy   Swinging   Interracial   Anal Sex   Cream Pie   Double Penetration   First   Fisting   Food   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Safe Sex   Sex Toys   Tit-Fucking   Voyeurism   Big Breasts   Nudism  

“Nicholas! Sarah! Are you up there?”

“Shit!” I heard a loud whisper coming down the stairwell from the attic. “Put it away! Put it away!”

“What are you kids up to?” I asked as I quickly climbed up the stairs.

I heard scurrying and I wondered what my grandchildren were up to. Just before my head cleared the level of the floor, I heard a trunk lid slam down and footsteps on the floorboards. As I walked up into the attic, I saw Sarah, looking guilty, standing beside one of the attic windows. Nicholas had thrown himself on one of the spare chairs we’d stored up there.

I took in a breath and I could smell the dust. The attic was typical; unfinished with a pine wood floor, and that ran the width of the house. I grimaced when I saw all the stacks of boxes, the stored furniture, and the odds and ends my wife and I had put up here. I had been meaning to clean it out for years.

I glared at my two grandchildren. Sarah was still looking guilty, staring down at the floor with her hands clasped behind her back. She was fifteen years old and pretty as a picture. Her long, black hair had been pulled back to hang down to her waist. I could see a smudge of dust on her T-shirt and another one on her jeans.

Nicholas, her twin brother, had assumed an air of nonchalance. He was looking everywhere, but at me. I smirked when I saw the layer of dust on the seat of the chair where he was sitting. He was fastidious about his clothing and would never have sat there, except for if he was not thinking about it/

“All right, you two,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “What are you to up to?”

“What do you mean, Grandfather?” asked Sarah.

“We weren’t doing anything,” stated Nicholas in wide-eyed innocence.

I snorted in disbelief. I walked over to the trunk across the attic from where they were. I could see fingerprints in the dust on the lid and felt the kids behind me tense up. I reached down and flipped the lid open.

“Grandfather... ?” Sarah started to say.

Holding up a hand to silence her, I reached in to pick up a battered school composition book. I was beyond shocked. I was stunned and flabbergasted. I had thought this had been lost and gone forever. I looked and saw more composition books in the trunk. I took in a deep breath trying calm my racing thoughts. I turned around and held up the book.

“Grandpaw...” Nicholas started to say before he stopped. Both kids had very red faces and could not look me in the eye.

“How many of these have you read?” I asked a little more sternly than I meant to.

Both kids looked down at the floor and didn’t answer me. I took another breath to settle my nerves.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “These are diaries I started writing when I was your age. Have you looked at them?”

The twins looked at each other as if trying to assess what to say. I always thought they communicated silently to each other.

“Only two or three,” admitted Sarah.

“We found them in a box in the garage,” added Nicholas quickly.

“The outside of the box was wet, so we moved the books up here,” said Sarah.

“We knew they were in your handwriting, so we were trying to preserve them,” explained Nicholas.

“We’ve been to The Pines, so that’s not a big secret,” put in Sarah.

I held up my hand to silence them again. Sighing, I pulled over a chair and dusted it off with the handkerchief from my back pocket. I gave a silent chuckle when Nicholas looked down in dismay at the dust on his chair. I sat down facing my grandchildren, holding the composition book tenderly in my hands.

“I wrote these from the time I was fourteen right up until after I married your grandmother,” I said to them. “Some of it is beautiful. Some of it is ugly. A lot of it is just going to be plain boring. They are my thoughts, dreams, and desires of the time.”

“It’s history, Grandpaw,” said Nicholas. “Your history. We want to know about it.”

“There are things in here you’re not going to like,” I said, holding up the book.

“But you’re still here to explain it to us,” reasoned Sarah. “Would it be better to read them later when no one maybe around and tell us what it all meant?”

“I hate debates,” I muttered darkly. “You two miss the option where I could just take these down to the fireplace and burn them.”

The twins looked at me in horror.

“But ... But...” stammered Sarah.

“We just got to the good part!” exclaimed Nicholas. “You can’t leave us hanging.”

“Oh, God, you’re hooked,” I sighed. “I let your grandmother read these many years ago and she had the same reaction. I didn’t think my writing was that good.”

“Does that mean we can read them?” asked Sarah.

“Yes, but at the beginning and may only continue after I have discussed this with your grandmother and parents.” I looked at the book and put it back in the trunk. I rummage through the other ones and pulled out a much more battered one. The second book was in the trunk, clearly visible by the dark brown stain along the top edge. “I shook my head. “Your grandmother is going to kill me for this.”

Chapter 1 »

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