Growing up in the 1960s and early 1970s was an awakening for a young teen like myself, from the music, the war in Viet Nam, and the sexual revolution, “times were a changing.” We were a normal family in the suburbs before my parents divorced when I was twelve years old. It wasn’t long before my mother had met and then remarried to my stepdad who just happened to be much better off than we had been. So, of course, there was an allure for her. Let me explain a little about my mom, Mary Beth and her best friend, Abby Johansson.
When I was growing up, I remember my mom and my dad going to street parties with the neighbors, both of them usually dressed conservatively, he in slacks, loafers and a dress shirt, the 50’s styles, and my mom in a dress, usually showing off her shape, but long enough to cover her knees in a billowing way, and she almost always wore heels and hose.
If she was in anything else, she mostly dressed like and looked like Mary Tyler Moore when she was Dick Van Dyke’s wife, Laura Petrie, on the Dick Van Dyke Show wearing Capri pants, black slipper shoes or Penny Loafers, and a loose fitting top. It wasn’t until I had the opportunity to see the movie “The Graduate” before I noticed that Katharine Ross and my mom were almost doppelgangers, something my high school friends always made sure to remind me of a few years later.
Back to Mary Beth, after divorcing my dad and after marrying my stepdad, my mom changed her wardrobe and became quite the quintessential “Harper Valley PTA” mom. She wore miniskirts to show off her awesome legs and tight ass, higher heels and leather knee-high high-heel Go-Go boots, tight tops that always showed her perky and full 36C breasts, her hair long and brown, down her back to her waist.
At the lake and the beach, she wore a yellow bikini, tight, barely covering her nipples, let alone her breasts, and a little piece of cloth that always left one’s imagination to run wild, including my sixteen-year-old body. She shaved her mons Venus smooth every day, something I would learn along the way, and quite a pair of lips visible by how tight the bikini bottoms hugged her luscious hips. Her white bikini was even more revealing, especially when it got wet.
As I hit my mid-teens with the momentum and force of an atom bomb, my mother became one of my most vivid infatuations; her, Ann-Margret, Natalie Wood, and my mom’s best friend, Mrs. Abby Johansson. Mom and Mrs. Johansson were the ultimate best friends while I was growing up and are still so today. They met when they were in high school and became best friends. My mother had me when she had just turned nineteen years old. Mrs. Johansson didn’t have her first daughter until three years later and followed up by her second daughter two years after the first.
My stepdad purchased the house in the same neighborhood as the Johansson’s when I was in Junior High School at my mom’s insistence. Nice schools, quaint small village appeal, and privacy. Our houses were a part of a twenty-five home development that surrounded a ten-acre lake. Having grown up knowing Mrs. Johansson, her husband, Bob, and two daughters, I saw them nearly every day, winter, spring, summer, and fall. They were always a happy couple, the girls always as bubbly.
The first time I had seen Mrs. Johansson as something more than my mom’s best friend, she was sitting on a towel, next to my mom, in her dark blue bikini at the lake. Her red tresses, her freckles, her body, oh my, a teen’s hormones were instantly engaged. I looked as close as I dared to see if she showed any stray pubic hairs in that bikini and she was as smooth as my mom and her lips seemed to be more pronounced with the tight material trying to hide in her folds.
I had to jump into the cold lake water instantly, to hide my growing cock, which began to make a tent of my swim shorts. Needless to say, I will let you imagine what I did twice in my room later that afternoon thinking of her laying there on the towel, legs spread, and her massive breasts barely covered by the bikini top.
During the summer, my school friends and baseball and football teammates always asked if they could come over to swim. They were normally treated to quite a show from both my mom and Mrs. Johansson. The other neighbor moms were not as young as mom and Mrs. Johansson and they were not wearing bikinis although there were a couple that looked good in a one piece at the lake.
My mother, stepdad, and the Johansson’s would go out at least twice a month on Saturday nights. Sometimes to parties and sometimes out to a bar or to see a show. I was often asked if I would look in on the Johansson’s daughters to make sure they were staying out of trouble. They were usually pretty good, and often we would play a few board games before they would head into the family room to camp out on the floor and watch one of the old Boris Karloff movies on UHF before falling asleep. Yes, if you were wondering, this is pre-cable or satellite.
As a sophomore in the fall of 1971, I played varsity football, so my Friday’s were normally tied to everything football. I couldn’t drive yet, but I had a lot of junior and senior teammates that would offer to pick me up or drop me off at home. I was invited to quite a few after game parties with the upper-class teammates, cheerleaders, band people, and pep squad members.
Being the youngest of the group, even at sixteen, I was kind of out of place, I didn’t drive yet, girlfriends were something other guys had, and I often felt like I was in the way. But, as I became welcomed to the group, I began to feel more comfortable. I met a junior cheerleader that asked me if I wanted to kiss her. That as my first contact with an older woman, so to speak.
This particular Saturday evening, the girls had camped out on the floor, with blankets and pillows, and fell asleep watching an old Abbott and Costello movie, “Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein” when the house phone rang. I glanced at the wall clock and it was nine-thirty. I answered the phone, “The Johansson residence.”
It was Mrs. Johansson checking in on how the girls and I were doing. I could hear loud music in the background and some voices, but I couldn’t quite make out what was being said. She told me that they would be later than expected and asked if that was ok. I told her girls were asleep and there was no problem. She also mentioned that my mom and stepdad were with them as well and made sure I had my key to our house if needed. I assured her all was ok and there was no problem, I had nothing going on Sunday until noon.
I was watching another old classic movie when I heard the garage door opening, announcing the return of Mr. and Mrs. Johansson. I glanced up at the clock and it was almost one in the morning. I walked up the stairs to the door just as the Johansson’s walked in. They were both smiling and lovey-dovey, her swatting his hands away from her ass as she walked ahead of him.
Her hair was tousled and a couple of extra buttons were undone on her form-fitting white blouse exposing her firm breasts in a flimsy white-laced bra. She had on a short skirt and gray pumps to match her skirt. He was dressed in a white button down shirt, blue blazer, dark blue pants, and black loafers.
Mr. Johansson smiled, reached out and shook my hand thanking me for watching the girls. He then excused himself and made his way back toward their bedroom and closed the door. Mrs. Johansson reached into her purse and pulled a few bills to hand to me and thanked me for staying so late. I waived off the money and told her she could catch me next time. She smiled.
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Forward to the spring of 1973, my sophomore year in high school. I was now seventeen years old and had my own car, a red 1967 Camaro four-speed hardtop coupe. Although I could drive, I didn’t have a steady girlfriend and really only had a few experiences of heavy petting on dates. This particular Saturday evening, the Johansson’s along with my mom and stepdad were going out again, like usual. I was asked to peek in on the girls and see if there was anything needed and to make sure they were ok. I was now more like their big brother and I watched over them like one.
That evening, I’d called to check on the girls when Brenda, the oldest, asked me if I wanted to join her and Tammy, the youngest, in a game of Monopoly. I had plans to go to a party with friends, but I couldn’t turn down some time with the girls when they asked. I told her I would love to but may only be there until they were tired. They were happy to know I would be on my way over.
I pulled into the driveway, around the corner and only ten houses away and at the end of the street that formed the northwest corner of the lake. The girls had the front door opened and they were standing there waiting on me to come in. Over the past almost two years, they had really grown into two very cute young ladies. You could see their mother in both of them. I teased Brenda, “You know, pretty soon you’ll be standing here waiting on a boy to take you on a date.”
Brenda blushed, “Uncle Tony, I’ll be waiting for you to take me out. Now that you are here, can we order a pizza? Mom and dad left us money but we wanted to wait to see if you wanted some with us.”
“Sure Brenda, I’d love to have some with you and Tammy.” The girls were dressed in shorts and t-shirts, even though it was still a very cool spring evening. Brenda was now thirteen and Tammy was eleven years old.
Brenda called in the pizza order and we set up the Monopoly game while we waited for the pizza to be delivered. We ate. Pizza gone, devoured by the three of us, and the Monopoly game now owned by Tammy the Tycoon, we were ready to call it quits. Time for me to head out to the party and the girls to get ready to change and head downstairs to the family room to watch television before falling asleep on the pillows like usual.
I cleared the table as the girls went to change when the phone rang. I answered, “Johansson residence, can I help you?”
I was greeted by Mrs. Johansson’s cheerful voice. “Tony, is that you? Are you still there with the girls? I thought you had a party to go to.”
I heard voices in the background and some music. I couldn’t quite tell what I was hearing but it sure sounded like moaning, in an erotic sort of way, and I could tell Mrs. Johansson muffled the phone and then came back on the line, “I’m glad I caught you, please make sure the girls are ok before you go out on your party date. Your parents are with us and we’ll be late, as usual.”
I could still hear the moaning in the background, muffled, but I could still hear it. I heard Mrs. Johansson murmur under her breath, “Oh, my!” and then, “Yes!” I had no idea where they were, but it sounded like they were definitely not alone.
“Mrs. Johansson, is everything ok?” I asked.
“Yes, Tony, all is quite well, as a matter of fact.”
“Ok then. I’ll make sure the girls are ok before I leave. Who knows, if the party is lame, I just may stay here for another round of Monopoly. Tammy kicked our butts tonight.”
Mrs. Johansson responded, appearing slightly out of breath, “Well, that girl has a good business sense about her. She will be a good landlord someday.” I heard another low, “Hmmm,” from her as she completed her sentence.
At that point, Mrs. Johansson thanked me and I heard the phone click as she hung up. I looked at the phone for a moment and then dialed the number to my friend’s house where the party was being held. The phone was answered on the sixth ring. “Hello?”
“Ah, hello, Mrs. Martin, this is Tony. Are Mark and the group still there?” I asked.
“Tony, glad to hear you, they all just jumped in their cars and said they were heading to Diane’s house, I think. You just missed them.”
“Thank you, Ma’am. Glad I called first.”
“You are quite welcome.” I heard the receiver click indicating Mrs. Martin had hung up. I did the same.
I looked at my watch and then the clock on the wall. It was only nine o’clock and I had missed the party’s start and the fact that it moved wasn’t encouraging. The girls had changed into their nightgowns and robes, and stood before me. “We can play another game if you like?”
“Sure, what do we have?”
After several rounds of Rummy, the late night movie was on and I wasn’t as tired as the girls. They curled up in front of the television, like usual, and were asleep quickly.
Since I wasn’t quite ready to fall asleep on the couch, I got up and went upstairs to the kitchen to get a Coke and some ice. I found the glass, got some ice from the ice trays in the freezer, yes, ice trays, and looked for the Coke bottles. I walked past the den and to the butler’s pantry where they kept their alcohol and extra bottles of soda.
I took the liberty to pour myself some rum into the glass first before I found the Coke. Heck, I ‘d missed the party and there was supposed to be beer and wine, why not. Walking back toward the kitchen to get the bottle opener from the counter where I’d left it, I noticed that I had missed that the desk lamp was still on at Mr. Johansson’s desk. I walked into the den and went to turn off the light when I noticed a magazine, upside down, on the desk near his calendar.
I picked up the magazine and my eyes went wide. I had hit the jackpot, a men’s magazine complete with women in various states of undress, even totally nude. Now, I had seen Playboy since I was sixteen. But this was really a jackpot discovery. I was in heaven.
I opened to the first page to see a beautiful leggy blonde with her blouse unbuttoned, sitting on the side of the desk in a seductive pose, showing off the tops of her gartered hose giving the photographer a peek of skin and an angle to want to make you look to see if you could find her pussy. I knew I needed something and I decided the rum would do it. So I took a long sip of the rum over ice, less the Coke, from my glass and sat down.
Yes, as you can guess, my cock began to grow immediately. The rum made me warm. I sat there and studied each and every picture, pose, nipple, dimple, pussy, lips and so forth. I was totally entranced. I finished my rum and decided I had needed more seeing that what I already had was quite good. I walked back into the butler’s pantry and added a little more rum this time around and decided I would investigate the Johansson’s bedroom to see what was in the closets. I knew she always dressed to the tens and wanted to see what else she may include in her wardrobe.
I walked into their bedroom and flipped on the light switch. I was greeted by their huge master bedroom with an on-suite and two huge walk-in closets. The bedroom set was a king size bed, four-poster canopy, cherry, complete with four different dressers and a main with a huge mirror and satin covered chair. I moved to the master closets to peek in.
Mrs. Johansson had quite a wardrobe, similar to my mother’s. I saw two exquisite evening gowns in their dry cleaner plastic covers, and more than one hundred pairs of shoes of all styles, from flats, sandals and pumps to stiletto heels and tennis shoes. Mr. Johansson’s closet was suits and three different tuxedos, shoes, ties, dress shirts, casual slacks and other attire.
