I grew up in an older section of a small town. Our house was only three
blocks from the downtown area and my mother and her neighbor friends would
simply walk to the grocery store every morning to pick up what they needed for
dinner and supper that night.
The houses were large, with high ceilings, broad front porches, and either wood
sided or sided with asbestos shingles. Most of the houses were white, and most
needed a new paint job. Unlike the track houses you see today, the houses were
set very close to the sidewalks, so that you could sit on the front porch and
talk with the passing neighbors. The houses were set on very deep lots allowing
for large vegetable gardens and fruit trees in the back. Many of the houses had
sheds of various sorts in the back.
These back lots and sheds were my playground. My buddies and I would play war or
cops and robbers and use whatever territory we needed. Fences were just
obstacles to be overcome in the course of play. Nobody ever said we couldn’t,
except a few times when we were reprimanded for snooping around inside someone’s
One afternoon during the summer I was prowling around, looking for a ripe peach
to steal off a tree. As I was sneaking up on my targeted peach tree, I passed a
tool shed. I heard noises coming from within. The moans, groans, and grunts
sounded like somebody was hurt. I knew where there was a broken board and I
There on a blanket I saw a naked man’s hairy butt pumping up and down. A pair of
shapely legs with red painted toenails was wrapped around his waist. I stood
transfixed. I had heard of this sort of thing but I’d never actually seen
anything like it before. I could see the man’s fat balls hanging low, swinging
freely as he humped away. Most of the moaning and groaning and ‘oh god-ing’, and
‘oh fuck-ing’ was coming from a female voice, even though I did hear the man
hoarsely call her a bitch, a little slut, a dirty whore, and a few other choice
My dick was so hard it hurt! I unfastened my pants and pulled out my rock hard
peter and began whacking off as I watched the erotically stimulating sex act in
the shed. I didn’t last very long and I soon shot off in my hand.
The couple in the shed rolled over. She sat up. I could only see her from the
back, long flowing dark hair, thin waist and flared hips, hips like I dreamed
about at night. It was the Baker’s tool shed and from the hair, I reasoned that
the girl was Amy Baker. Amy was only a few years older than me, but at that
stage of life, we were decades apart. She was a high school girl and I was only
in the seventh grade.
She ground her full rounded buttocks into the groin of her lover. She lifted
herself, and I could see the man’s long thick dick emerge. As it pulled out, her
pussy lips, stretched tight around his hard rod, pulled downward. When she sank
back down, her pussy lips inverted as the big cock slid back up inside her. She
began to ride him, fucking him with abandon. The moaning and soft cursing
continued. Suddenly she fell forward, and I watched as her lovely buttocks
flexed and shuddered spasmodically for about two minutes. Other than her
buttocks jerking and her feet twitching, she lay still as the man continued to
enthusiastically fuck her.
Then she stood up, pulling the hard dick out of her pussy. She turned around
facing me. I knew it! I knew it! It was Amy Baker! Damn!
She grasped the glistening dick and directed it back into her pussy as she sat
down on it. Her big tits, capped by large dark bulls-eye nipples, were flopping
about as she bobbed up and down on the big lust-swollen dick.
For some time Amy had been the object of my nighttime masturbation fantasies and
to now see her, completely nude and fucking some guy with wanton abandon, was
too much. I breathlessly continued to watch, slowly stroking my hard penis
After several minutes the man sat up and shoved her forward onto her hands and
knees. As he positioned himself behind her I recognized him too. It was her old
man, Mr. Baker! Sweet Jesus! I was really bug-eyed now as he began to ram her
from behind with all his might, her low hanging tits swinging forward each time
his groin met her butt with a loud slap, slap, slap.
I started to cum again, but was taken by complete surprise when a big woman
suddenly swung me around. I began squirting, unable to control myself as I
looked in horror into the face of Mrs. Baker.
“You filthy boy!” she shrieked, her face contorted in rage. “I’m going to talk
to your mother about this!”
There was a crashing sound from inside the shed. Mrs. Baker heard it. How could
she not hear it? She quickly stepped to the front of the shed and opened the
door. I heard her shriek again and then the sounds of all hell breaking loose in
the tool shed. I pulled up my pants and ran for home.
That night at supper, I was very quiet. I dreaded what my mother was going to
say and dreaded even more what my father was going to do to me once Mrs. Baker
told Mom that she caught me whacking off behind her tool shed. Mom never said
Later that week I saw the Bakers at the Piggly Wiggly. Mr. Baker looked me in
the eye and glared. Mrs. Baker, saw me and quickly looked away, but not before I
saw her nasty black eye. Amy, she went about as if everything was normal and
continued to ignore me like I didn’t exist.
Over the next year I stopped, looked and listened, but I never did find Amy and
her daddy doing it in their tool shed ever again. But Mrs. Baker, every so often
I would see her sporting a new black eye or a busted lip. Even after her belly
began to swell, Amy remained my masturbation fantasy girl. I would visualize her
in the tool shed, riding my cock, just like she rode her daddy’s.