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From: El Sol <munster@eden.rutgers.edu>
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Subject: {ASSM} "The Wolf Summers" by ElSol [2/13] (Incest, Mdom)
Date: Fri, 19 Dec 2003 14:10:12 -0500
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ElSol
<1st attachment, "summer2.txt" begin>
The Wolf Summers
ElSol
----
Chapter 2: The Itch
The beginning of a large story.
----
I did not know until later in life how oblivious I was while growing up.
The only people I connected with were Marisa, Rachel, and the twins. My
stepfather was an abusive asshole and my mother stayed married to him. If
it had not been for martial arts and swimming, I would have gone from
school to home and back to school until I left for college.
The fact that everybody and I were quite happy ignoring each other left me
without some basic knowledge of the changes to come after I turned twelve.
I understood that boys and girls were different, but how exactly was a
mystery that I had no interest in.
That changed when I discovered 'The Itch'.
My family lived in a three-bedroom apartment. My mother and stepfather
used the master bedroom. My sister Marisa was in the bedroom next to
theirs. My bedroom was on the opposite side of the living room down a
small hallway. My room's isolation served my sister and me when we wanted
to get away from the fighting.
The night I discovered 'The Itch' my mother and stepfather started a
louder than normal argument. My little sister ran into her room to get
away from them. I got my nightclothes ready and started a shower. I
enjoyed standing in the shower with hot water pouring on me. It was an
escape from the yelling in the apartment. I finished washing and was
enjoying the heat when my penis got hard. I was not aware of my penis as
THE male member at the time. It was the part of my body that I peed from.
I usually got hard in the shower, but this time there was something else
in the hardening.
Not only did I get harder then I ever remembered being, but there was a
pulse of heaviness in my penis. I stood with the hot water pouring over my
back and let myself pulse confused at what to do about it.
The shower curtain was flung aside and I jumped back. My hands on the wall
behind me were the only things that prevented me from falling.
My stepfather, drunk, yelled at me "Aren't you done yet... you've been in
here for a half hour?"
I looked at him confused.
He looked down at my crotch, which because of my position was pushed
towards him. He seemed to get angrier.
"Why are you hard?" he said in a tight voice.
I did not know what to say. I had been startled while trying to deal with
the confusion of new feeling flooding my body.
My mother came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder "What are you
doing, Manny?" she said in a controlled voice.
She looked over her shoulder at me. She took in my confusion and her face
tightened with anger. Her eyes moved down to my crotch like my
stepfather's had. She looked at my hard-on for seconds longer than he had.
She met my eyes and relaxed. She smiled at me. It was a comforting and
discomforting at the same time. Her reaction made me get harder and added
to the flood of confusion. My stepfather had turned to her by this time,
thankfully missing my reaction. She turned her face to him and gave him a
hard look.
"Get out, - she said quietly.
I watched him deflate. There had been confrontations over the children
before. He never won any. Twice he had been kicked out for physically
disciplining me. My mother had not bothered to pack his things but had
thrown them out the nearest window. Those were the only times that I ever
saw her stand up to him. There had been a different type of incident the
year before involving Marisa. Some of my uncles and their families had
been visiting from our home country. We were having a family picnic in a
nearby park. Everyone had been having a good time until my mother and my
stepfather started arguing. People started to move away from them and
there were disapproving looks on my uncles' faces. Usually my sister ran
away from these confrontations, but this time she ran into it to try to
stop it. He pushed Marisa aside to continue yelling at my mother. I moved
towards them; Marisa jumped between them again yelling. He grabbed
Marisa's arm violently and raised his hand as if to slap her. My mother
told me I grabbed a wok-like heavy frying pan from the picnic table next
to them, and hit him full in the face over Marisa's head. He let Marisa go
and fell back. I walked around Marisa and hit him again before the first
of my uncles tackled me. It took two of them to hold me down; all the
while I was yelling that if he touched her again I would kill him. One of
my uncles helped him move away from us. An aunt had grabbed Marisa and
brought her over to me. Marisa started yelling at my uncles to get off me
and helped by pushing them. When they got off me, she jumped into my arms
and we held onto each other for a long time.
He would not test my mother's resolve when it came to me, and Marisa led
to me anyway.
In the bathroom, my stepfather looked at my mother and then at me. He
skulked out of the bathroom angrily slamming the door behind him. My
mother watched him leave and then turned back to me. She smiled at me
gently.
"It's okay, baby." she said "Finish your shower and go to bed, okay."
I nodded.
She looked down at my crotch again. She stared at me. A feminine smile
touched her face before she turned to walk out of the bathroom. I stood
there even more confused at the world around me, at the world inside me.
Finally, I turned the water off and dried myself. I was still needy but
did know what to do about it and decided to ignore it.
I put on my pajamas and a t-shirt. I walked to my bedroom, closed the door
and lay down on my bed. I tried to go to sleep but I was nearly trembling
with restlessness. Every time I felt my dick begin to relax, the image of
my mother's smile while she looked at my crotch hardened me again. I
tossed and turned until I ended up on my stomach pressing my crotch into
the bed. Given my ignorance, it had to be instinct that made me rub myself
on the bed. Once I started though I felt the need and weight grow, but
towards a conclusion. I grabbed my pillow tightly and squeezed my eyes
shut while continuing to rub myself against the mattress. In my mind, I
could see an image of my mother staring at my hard dick and her feminine
smile. I started to rub harder as my mind made her reach towards me.
My mind and body fragmented from each other. I grew lightheaded as my
entire existence focused on my dick. My body shook gently and I bit into
the pillow as pleasure exploded outward from my dick emptying me of
everything else. Seconds later, my mind rejoined my body and I gasped deep
breaths. I turned over on my back, the pressure inside me eased. I closed
my eyes and did not open them again until morning.
I did not have the knowledge or experience to define what had happened to
me so I called it 'The Itch'. It became a part of my nighttime routine. I
carefully repeated the steps every night for months: the shower, the hot
water relaxation, the hardening, lying on my stomach, the thoughts of my
mother reaching for me, the rubbing, and finally 'The Itch'.
After the shower confrontation my mother behaved differently around me. My
mother had dominated nearly every aspect of my life, but now if I stood my
ground she allowed me to do what I wanted. I did not consciously notice it
or the knowing smiles from her for months. When the change did register, I
wondered what would happen if I pushed back instead of just standing my
ground.
My relationship with stepfather became more actively venomous. After the
second time, he had been kicked out we had declared a silent truce of
courteously ignoring each other. The shower scene had pushed him to the
edge again and he began to be verbally abusive towards me every chance he
got. He tried to use special attention to Marisa as a weapon against me. I
did not understand why he had broken our truce, but his attention to
Marisa was something that could not affect me. She was happier, and that
made the situation as bearable as the truce had made it.
Aspects of the nighttime routine that I had observed religiously for
months changed when I started to consider actively challenging my mother's
authority. The rubbing on the bed became slower allowing me time to expand
on the thoughts of my mother. The images changed to her touching me,
bathing me, holding the center of my pleasure. 'The Itch' changed with
these thoughts. At times, it lasted longer, other times it was more
powerful, some times more pleasurable.
It always centered on thoughts of my mother. I do not know where things
would have gone had I continued down that fantasy path. A lot of things
that happened in our home would have probably come sooner or maybe nothing
would have changed. It does not matter because something did derail the
thoughts of my mother.
I had been brought from our country before I turned six years old. At the
beginning of that summer, my mother signed me up for swimming classes that
the high school was running as a community summer program. She wanted me
to meet kids my age and get exposed to English.
I met the twins, Sean and Patrick Smith, at the pool. Their family had
major money and they should not have had anything to do with a public
summer program, not to mention the twins were excellent swimmers. Their
father put them in the program to introduce them to more kids in the hope
that they would not be so 'twinish'.
The twins were more oblivious to everything not them than I was to
everything not me. People talk about one twin finishing another's
sentence, but Sean and Patrick had identical thought streams. From the
moment I met them I treated them as one person and never resented that
they always ganged up on me when we played. We became partners in fraud
when our parents came to believe that their agendas were being met. To
some extent it was, I rapidly learned English and the twins allowed
someone else into their outer circle. To the world, the twins and I became
best friends but to us we had loyalty, protective presence and most
importantly silence. To maintain our facade, I made treks to their house
to play. They had a large mansion, lots of toys, and a pool in the back so
it was an enjoyable play environment. When I was to begin school, I was
awarded a 'scholarship' to the same private school the twins were to
attend. School made our relationship screen an even more important device
to hide behind.
Their father had been sick during that first summer we met, but the summer
before 'The Itch' he had died. I spent a lot more time at their house, but
more for their mother, Rachel Smith, than for the twins. The twins were
cold even towards her so I was cast in the role of comforting presence. My
mother drove me to their house everyday for months after the twin's father
died. After the daily visits were no longer necessary, whenever I visited
the twins I would spend a half hour talking to Rachel. I guess she was my
first friend, as much as a 27-year-old woman can be the friend of an
11-year-old boy.
Late in the summer of 'The Itch', Rachel Smith became the object of most
of my pubescent fantasies.
It had been a normal visit to the twins. The half hour conversation with
Rachel was me complaining about having to go back to school in two weeks.
Rachel teased me about it. The twins came downstairs in their swim trunks
having decided it would be a relaxing pool day. We had started to enter
swimming competitions two summers after we met so our pool time was mostly
training. I thought it would be great to just play that afternoon.
Everything was normal; tossing a ball around, one on two water polo, being
half drowned by their tag team action, and being kids in a pool. After
about an hour and a half Rachel came out with soft drinks for us. I did
not think anything about her being wrapped in a towel until she said she
was going to grab some sun.
The twins and I had avoided recreational pool time because of training and
competitions. Rachel had always joined our pool play before, but since
before 'The Itch' we had not been in that situation. The twins were
pushing me around so I was not looking at her when she removed the towel
and laid it down on the lounge chair.
The full vision of Rachel Smith in a yellow bikini hit me when I turned
around. It was modest for a bikini but a very bright yellow. She was a 5
foot 9, multi-shade blonde, blue-eyed, fit, curvaceous goddess to
12-year-old eyes at the first step of sexual maturity. How I did not
shatter the glass by dropping it as my hormones declared for
heterosexuality I will never know. Rachel swam while the twins and I were
coached but she also spent time by herself working out so her body showed
no effects of being the mother of twins. She was also blessed with high
C/D cup breasts, wonderful hips, and generously more than two handfuls of
ass.
The meaning of woman hit my body and I was as confused as I had been in
the shower with my mother's eyes on me. My dick hardened and my mouth
would not close.
She was adjusting her things on the small poolside table by her lounge.
She turned back to the lounge and bent over to adjust her towel. Her ass
was mostly covered by her yellow bottom but it did not matter. My mind
listened to my body and I understood for the first time the reason I
hardened.
I felt the way I did because my body wanted to be IN her.
She lay down on the lounge and grabbed her book. I knew that any second
she would turn towards me. My mind refused to allow her to see me in my
mental state or with a fierce hard-on tenting my swim trunks. I placed the
glass down on the tray she had brought out and walked into the pool. I
swam to the far side, as far away from her as I could and sat with just my
head above the water. The twins continued playing around out of the pool.
Fifteen minutes later Rachel took a quick dip in the pool to cool off.
My life became her walking up the steps of the pool.
To this day, wet is sexier.
The twins took their play inside the pool when their mother had hit the
water. They were slowly getting closer to me. Rachel dried herself and
applied suntan lotion. The twins started talking to me; I could hear them
begin their wave of teasing that usually came before we got physical. I
could not separate their voices into words; I had to watch Rachel as she
applied lotion to her body. The twins stopped teasing me, and I could feel
them watching me. I looked at them but could not focus. I turned my head
to continue staring at their mother. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw
them turn their heads, watch her for a few seconds, and then turn back to
me.
They turned to her again and turned back to me.
"Oh!" they said at the same time. I could feel pressure in the back of my
eyes, my body wanted tears to flow. Some of it was embarrassment at what
they had discovered but most of it was need mixed with want causing more
frustration than I had ever felt in my life. They nodded and swam away
from me. They played noisily to ensure that their mother watched them
instead of me.
Loyalty, protective presence and silence.
Rachel went inside to get more drinks. I took the opportunity to get out
of the pool, enter the house and change. I was sitting outside when she
came out again.
"David, are you leaving so soon?" she asked as she put the tray down.
"No, Mrs. Smith," I replied, "I'm just tired, right now."
She looked at me strangely and turned to watch the twins. I had not
addressed her formally since the first time she cried because of her
husband's disease in front of me. She laughed at a spectacular splash made
by Patrick. She lay down on her stomach on the lounge. I could not look at
her directly because if she turned her head she would catch me. My eyes
flicked from the twins to her ass, to the twins, to her legs, to the
twins, to all of her for the next hour while I waited for my mother to
pick me up.
On the drive home, I could only stare out the window blindly as the
frustration continued to burn through my body. I was stuck in the ritual
of the 'The Itch' so could not take care of myself when I got home. I sat
in front of the TV feeling the frustration burn itself down to a simmer.
I barely noticed dinner, and sat in front of the TV not registering
anything afterwards. Finally, the ritual time came and I ran to my room
for my sleep clothes. The shower was quick and I skipped the hot water
part. I stood in front of the bed with my pajama bottoms tented. I looked
down at myself. I knew even the pajama bottoms would be too much after
this afternoon. I reached down and pushed them down to my knees. I looked
at myself again. My dick seemed angry with frustration; it was so hard. I
lay down on my stomach. I grabbed the pillow in clenched fists.
I knew what the vision would be.
Rachel was bent over adjusting the lounge. I rubbed myself on the
mattress. I stepped up to her. I was not wearing swim trunks. My cock was
hard. There were strings on the side of her hips. There had not been that
afternoon, but I had seen it in a magazine and in my vision they were
there. I untied one and the bottom opened but hung on covering what I
needed. I untied the other. My humping on the bed became more frantic but
I was fighting to hold 'The Itch' back, I wanted the entirety of the
vision. The bottoms were still on her body; I pulled them off of her
exposing her to my eyes, to my cock. I had looked through a Penthouse
magazine at a convenience store while the clerk had been busy with a rush
so I knew what she would look like, how we would fit together. In my mind,
I grabbed her hips like I had seen in the magazine and pushed myself
forward and into her.
'The Itch' arrived with a vengeance ripping through my control as in my
head Rachel and I became one body connected by dick and pussy. 'The Itch'
had never been that powerful or rich in the fullness of experience. I felt
lightheaded and prickles of sensation covered my chest. I rode the wave up
through my body, and rode it down again rubbing myself into the mattress
as shivers from the aftershock hit me.
I fell asleep with my pajamas around my knees.
I woke up the next morning and the ritual shattered. I had woken up hard
and the first thing that came to my mind was the vision of me inside of
Rachel. I started pumping into the bed without waking up completely. I
kept pumping into the bed as the images of my dick entering Rachel, being
pulled out and entering her flashed through my mind. Finally, I had my
first daytime visit from 'The Itch'.
I lay there for a few minutes before I heard the knock on my door. My
mother yelled it was time for practice. I got up from the bed and smiled
as I realized I could give myself 'The Itch' at anytime and even the
shower was unnecessary.
Fantasies of Rachel and sometimes my mother became my new ritual. It
stopped being at night most of the time and changed to being after I got
home from martial arts training, or after I got home from playing with the
twins.
I managed to buy some magazines from clerks who found my boldness of
outright trying to buy them when no one else was in the store amusing. It
was not the best sexual education; reading the Penthouse forum or looking
through Hustler. I read and looked through the magazines for the small
amounts of true things between the pages.
I learned 'The Itch' was really an orgasm or cumming. I thought of it as
'The Itch' anyway until someone else became involved in my sexual
awakening.
Even with the magazines though, Rachel remained the focus of my 'The Itch'
dreams.
Things changed in December when my mother's youngest sister came to live
with us. Iris was my mother's half sister, the youngest child of my
grandfather and born of an extramarital affair. The family did not know
about her until my grandmother died. Iris's mother became very ill and
Iris moved in with my grandfather. My uncles asked questions and my
grandfather denied nothing. When my grandfather started the slow spiral to
his own death, Iris was passed around between the uncles' households. The
summer of 'The Itch' she had been moved in with an uncle that lived in the
US. There had been conversations as to what would be done with her, and
somehow she became my mother's responsibility.
I believe my mother insisted Iris move in with us.
Iris moving in was the last nail in the coffin of my mother and my
stepfather's marriage. It would take them a year and half and my
intervention before the marriage laid down and died but looking back Iris
was the end.
The problem was the argument of where Iris would sleep. My stepfather
thought the obvious that having Iris share a room with Marisa was the best
thing. Marisa did not agree and did so very loudly. She had never shared a
room with anyone and did not want to start. This left the living room or
my room. I had thought my room was out of the question until my mother
dictated it would be my room.
I did not care about Iris in my room. I wanted Marisa to get what she
wanted and if it meant Iris in my room that was fine with me. The sexual
possibilities and consequences had not occurred to me. I was only trying
to make sure my baby sister got what she wanted.
My stepfather hated the idea with a passion but my mother was steadfast.
Marisa and I sat in the living room as avid spectators to the arguments. I
had seen my mother go ballistic over my stepfather striking me, but this
was different. She was going to get her way. She was just not going to
relinquish the point no matter how long it took. Finally out of
frustration at my mother having become an immovable object, my stepfather
caved.
The Saturday after the decision was made, we built bunk beds in my room.
Iris moved in that Sunday.
Sunday night after my shower, I realized the bunk beds made it so she
would know something was going on if I gave myself 'The Itch'. The
situation became worse on Monday afternoon when I got home from my martial
arts class and she was in my room playing.
'The Itch' which was a part of my everyday life became something I had
very little opportunity to do. For the next six months, I had to sneak in
a quick 'The Itches' whenever I could, usually when Iris was showering.
In time, my frustration with the situation grew.
<1st attachment end>
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