Homerun2611
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 21, 2018
- Posts
- 7,433
Should I go tell this poor woman? This was the moral dilemma coursing through my very soul at the moment. I had been horrified, my classmates voting for the hottest MILF, and then when I learned what MILF meant, and further there was a bounty for … mounting!!! She couldn’t know. It really wasn’t my business, but no one deserved that. It had been my first year as a senior, which was a year later than usual, and to hear this my very first day!
I had spent the last year on a mission, rebuilding houses in Maui, Hawaii. All the work had changed me, changes I didn’t fully realize. I had been a little doughy before, six foot two with tousled brown hair, streaked with natural blonde highlights, deep baby blue eyes, basically a doppleganger for a young Brad Pitt, albeit originally out of shape. The work had transoformed me, as did one more year of puberty. The heated work and minimal meals had chiseled my frame, sculpted and defined each muscle, broadened my shoulders, and made more pronounced the broad V to my 30 inch waist, and natural 8 pack abs.
And while that was the reality, my own body image was the doughy virgin I had left as, awkward with girls, and raised to put God first! I had been told about the competition, asked to contribute, and of course, refused! But now, walking up to the door, could I really tell this poor woman of this contest that she couldn’t possibly be aware!
I was a pastor’s son, raised to hold women in respect, their bodies, their virtue! I had made a decision to tell the poor woman, see if there was any way I could help her, as I could not understand how God could allow this poor woman’s name to be sullied like this.
Pulling up to her home, it was very large. There was a car in the driveway, she was having a guest possibly? Should I come back? It had been too hard to get my courage to come this far, I needed to proceed.
Wearing a powder blue t-shirt, and sand shorts I had to be careful getting dressed. One of God’s challenges to me was having to hide the ten inch flaccid monster that slung nearly down to my knees. I tried to tuck it in tighty whities, and while a bit painful, worked, but had to be careful to avoid an unseemly bulge in my pants.
No one answered, and I went around back only to see two women, looking down into a swimming pool, as if one of them had dropped something! Knocking on the metal gate, trying to peer over, not wanting to disturb, my voice cracked at my first attempte, “Mrs. Burton?” Nothing. “Mrs. Burton, sorry to interrupt, this is Ricky Johnson, I .. went to school with your daughter .. may I speak with you?” This time I seemed to have gotten the women’s attention….
I had spent the last year on a mission, rebuilding houses in Maui, Hawaii. All the work had changed me, changes I didn’t fully realize. I had been a little doughy before, six foot two with tousled brown hair, streaked with natural blonde highlights, deep baby blue eyes, basically a doppleganger for a young Brad Pitt, albeit originally out of shape. The work had transoformed me, as did one more year of puberty. The heated work and minimal meals had chiseled my frame, sculpted and defined each muscle, broadened my shoulders, and made more pronounced the broad V to my 30 inch waist, and natural 8 pack abs.
And while that was the reality, my own body image was the doughy virgin I had left as, awkward with girls, and raised to put God first! I had been told about the competition, asked to contribute, and of course, refused! But now, walking up to the door, could I really tell this poor woman of this contest that she couldn’t possibly be aware!
I was a pastor’s son, raised to hold women in respect, their bodies, their virtue! I had made a decision to tell the poor woman, see if there was any way I could help her, as I could not understand how God could allow this poor woman’s name to be sullied like this.
Pulling up to her home, it was very large. There was a car in the driveway, she was having a guest possibly? Should I come back? It had been too hard to get my courage to come this far, I needed to proceed.
Wearing a powder blue t-shirt, and sand shorts I had to be careful getting dressed. One of God’s challenges to me was having to hide the ten inch flaccid monster that slung nearly down to my knees. I tried to tuck it in tighty whities, and while a bit painful, worked, but had to be careful to avoid an unseemly bulge in my pants.
No one answered, and I went around back only to see two women, looking down into a swimming pool, as if one of them had dropped something! Knocking on the metal gate, trying to peer over, not wanting to disturb, my voice cracked at my first attempte, “Mrs. Burton?” Nothing. “Mrs. Burton, sorry to interrupt, this is Ricky Johnson, I .. went to school with your daughter .. may I speak with you?” This time I seemed to have gotten the women’s attention….