Arriving at The Johnson’s

I was at the state home for four long days. It is amazing how fast you get accustomed to something. I had never before had to work, I had never before had responsibilities, I had never before had a family that cared about me, until the Benson’s.

The food at the state home was awful and a long cry from the spread that Mrs. B and the girls prepared every night. The bed was hard, and instead of one room mate, I had five. The showers were far from being private.

In the showers, there were dozens of shower heads coming out of the wall. At night, dozens of guys of all ages lined up and showered. Showers were always an adventure. Luckily, due to my size, I never had a problem. However, some of the smaller built guys were bullied by the bigger ones. Several times, some of them were taken advantage of.

Once, I witnessed one wimpy white guy forced to suck a bigger black guy’s penis before he would allow him access to a shower. He dropped to his knees and gulped it down like he was a pro. I only watched for a second. Seeing this made me remember the times that Heather and Trudy had taken my penis into their mouths. The memories would get me aroused. I did not want them to see me hard so I would turn my back to them.

The showers were not the only place where there was mischief. Every night when the lights went out and the place was dark. I could hear a bed squeaking in our room. The bed would squeak, I would hear grunting and hard breathing. After a while I would hear a moan of relief and then a few minutes later it would be silent. I tried to figure out where and who the sounds were coming from, but I was never able to figure it out.

To say I was in need of an eruption, would be an understatement. I had become accustomed to being serviced by the hand or mouth of two young ladies, and after the four days, my balls were in need of release. I was getting really close to trying the mouth or hand of one of the guys, but before I hit that weak point, my case worker showed up.

My case worker was Mrs. Ellen Rich. She was an older lady. She was a pleasant sight. She had me summons to one of the conference rooms at the home. I was escorted to the room by one of the workers at the home. I walked in and sat at the table and awaited her to enter.

Mrs. Rich walked in wearing a consevative dress suit. She was carrying a bag that was stuffed with files. She placed the bag on the table and pulled out a file folder and opened it up. She read through the papers. While reading I watched her facial expressions.

At first the look on her face was pity. I assumed she was reading the part of my file where I was a mixed bastard child of a meth addict. Then her eyebrows rose as she read that I had overcome my ADHD to become a straight A student, even with changing schools every few months.

Her facial expression changed to disgrace and disbelief. She had to be reading that I had impregnated my former foster mom. I had caused my foster dad to kidnap my foster sister, and leave his marriage of twenty years. She must have been reading how my foster sister and I had been found by state officials in a bedroom in the barn, naked and in each other’s arms.

“Well,” she began. “You have had some kind of life. All this information is mind blowing and due to your previous situation, it has been hard finding a place for you. However, we have found a home for you.”

I leaned back in my chair and waited for her to inform me of my new, temporary home. As she read my file, I had undressed her in my imagination. I imagined her to have large, sagging breast. I would bet her nipples were long, and that she loved for them to be sucked. She had thick thighs and I imagined her hairy cunny was wet from reading about my discretions.

“ The Johnson’s is a family in the city. They have a daughter in college and since she has left home, they have opened their home up to one. Mr. Johnson is a truck driver and Mrs. Johnson is a teacher. You will attend her school. We have you enrolled and you will be placed in classes that will challenge your intellect. You will be the Johnson’s first foster, so please be on your best behavior.”

I smiled and nodded.

She packed my file back into her bag about the time the home worker brought my personal stuff into the room. It was a shame that all of my possessions fit in a plastic shopping bag. I picked up the bag and followed Mrs. Rich. I could not help but to think how nice it would be to run my penis between her thick thighs.

I felt embarrassed at myself. Until the Benson Farm, I had only known the scientific meaning of sex. It was there that I lost my virginity and fertilized a woman all at the same time. The activities we had done on the farm were not normal, however those activities had changed me.

As I sat in the back seat of Mrs. Rich’s car, I thought about Heather. I wondered where she had ended up. She would make someone a good daughter, and I hoped that she would be placed somewhere she was happy. I remembered our last time together and how I longed to be with her again.

The drive to the Johnson home was about an hour and a half from the State Home. We entered the city at the peak of rush hour, so that added another hour to our drive. Mrs. Rich did not speak a word the whole trip. She had made and received several phone calls about different cases along the way.

The Johnson’s lived in the middle of the city. They lived on a street where all the houses were cookie cutter similar. Large two story townhouses stacked side by side. Each was brick with doorsteps that led down to the sidewalk. The only differences in the houses were the numbers on the door post. It was the total opposite of the ample space I had come accustomed to on the Farm.

Mrs. Rich pulled in front of the Johnson’s home. A middle-aged couple was standing on the top step, and as we stopped, they excitedly walked toward the car. Mr. Rich was a big man. He was dark with a shaved head. He looked like he was over six feet tall and when he shook my hand, his large hand enveloped mine like it wasn’t even there. I am not sure if he meant to or not, but his grip felt like it was crushing every bone in my hand.

Mrs. Johnson was a light skinned woman. She was very pretty, and I imagined that in her day, she had been a knockout. She was dressed in a business, pants suit. She wore blue pants, a matching blue jacket, and a white blouse made out of some type of sheer material. What I noticed was her feet. Her toe nails were painted a light pink color. Her fingernails were the same color. Mrs. Benson nor either of the other two had the luxuries of getting their nails done on the farm.

Mrs. Rich went inside with the Johnson’s and I followed close behind.