Mrs Roby

Mrs. Roby

It seems as though this all happened in a time warp in which I never had control of any of the events. Most people would have seen it coming and probably would have changed course knowing that what happened would be construed as deviant behavior. But then, I am not most people.

Growing up on a farm, just outside an ex-urban community, not too far from a major upper Midwest metropolitan area gave me the opportunity to have my life experiences in both. The rural part taught me to always complete the task and ignore the grime, while the urban side enriched me with the advantages of diversity, fueling my curiosity. So while going through high school, my hard work ethic and not being afraid of the dirt in the trenches made me a stand out varsity tight end on the football team. During this time, I befriended Mark who played wide receiver on our team. Mark’s family moved into the town from the city when he was a freshman, and being black, stuck out like a sore thumb (there were only two other black families in the whole school district). But never mind that, we became the best of friends. Maybe because I was ostracized for being a farm kid and Mark for being black, I do not know.

This led me into being close to Mark’s family, less his dad who was not around as much, but with his mother and little sister who is three or four years younger than Mark. Mark’s dad was much older than his mother, at least ten or fifteen years difference I would guess, and he was at least 300 pounds. Looked almost round.

Mark’s mother on the other hand, was a tall, athletically thin woman (picture a ten year younger Michelle Obama) mid thirties to late thirties at the most. To be honest she quite often became the focus of my fantasies, as I would jerk off.

Fast forward to the beginning of my senior year football season. I was a seventeen, almost six-foot, skinny white kid horny almost all the time.

At the end of the second week of practice I was to stay at Mark’s house because of a late Friday practice, coupled with my parents going out of town for the weekend, and my sixteen year-old sister have custody of the second family car this week.

Ok, this was all cool. Mark’s bedroom was down in the basement, next to the laundry room, which also was kind of a bathroom too. It had a shower stall, sink, and toilet all within the same room as the washer, dryer, and wash tubs. It was great for Mark as he could come home from practice; dump is dirty uniform in the washer, then jump in the shower all within a few steps.

Mark was gracious enough to offer his digs to me as he and his family planned on getting up early to go into the city. So Mark used his old bedroom upstairs and I had the complete run of his pad.

The next morning I slept in, way late for a farm boy.