CAUTION:

This is a story based on experience, and honestly told; some details and names are fictionalized to obscure identities of real persons and events. The ages of most of the persons told in the story were technically legal ages of consent in the state of Minnesota (for that matter in almost all states at the time). While the sexual activities described here involve "teenagers," these boys were not preyed upon by anyone, or coerced in anyway.  If anything, these " boys" were predators to my wife.

Installment 1--In Which I Explain How it All Began and Why

In 1976 I was 29 and my wife has just one month away from turning 21.  My wife, Karen, was having trouble finding work and was unhappy, actually pretty depressed, and she found it hard to go out looking for work.

I was in grad school to get a PhD. in English Litt. 

We had been married only a year and a half when this whole thing happened.  I suppose I had different ideas about life and things than my wife did.  I had married her right after she got out of high school.  She had no real ambitions but to have a family.  Something I was not ready for. 

The honeymoon was short lived.  She was desperate to please me and to be sure that I loved her; she would do anything for me and maybe that was the problem.  I don't know what I expected of her. But I didn't like how she was so needy and how little she did to help us.  I resented it. I think it showed.  That depressed her too.  She only wanted me to love her.  I ended up exploiting that to get her to do things she should not have done.

She sat home alone while I was at school, watching TV and eating.  She put on a little weight during this.  Not fat, but a bit pudgy for sure.  She still had a young girl's body and firmness, but her boobs got some heavier, had some heft to them now, and her nipples seemed bigger too. I liked that fleshiness.  I liked how her tits hung when she leaned over, and swayed when I did her doggy-style.  And while her legs stayed lean and lovely, she got a bit boxy in her torso, and had swell above her pussy, and when she put her knees up to chestÑif say I coaxed her to show me her splayed cunt or if she squatted to suck me off Ñshe had a cute crease and a little roll of fat.

But I want to emphasize she was not really fat, although some of the "boys" teased her and called her fat, but that was really just to humiliate her. Frenchy of course told her she was pretty.  Frenchy always played for her sympathies.  Thinking back on it now, it was a trick, I think, to get her to do what Frenchy wanted. Frenchy was never mean to her in the way the other boys were.  Deliberately.  On the other hand, he had his own waysÑworse waysÑto humiliate her. 

No, Karen was not really fat, and in fact she'd been a little too skinny before. I liked her like this.  But she was more self-conscious when she was naked for me, almost ashamed to be seen naked. Frankly I liked that too.

But all of this of course depressed her even more, thinking she was not attractive to me.  And to tell the truth our sex life was not much good at the moment, but that had nothing to do what she looked like; she was attractive; in fact I had a very active fantasy about her and I often masturbated thinking about her in that fantasy.  No, if anything the fantasy was the problem. 

No, our bad sex life was really my fault, though she felt it was hers and I admit I took advantage of her unhappiness to do what I wanted.

I can't say understand the psychology of my fantasy. I was hung-up, I guess, having a wife reminded me of living with my mother, and the both of them were so emotionally needy.  I really put distance between us and could only make love to her with a heavy fantasy in my mind.  Like I was another person.  Or she was forced to do it reluctantly.  The whole mentality of it was not healthy but it took a long to time to work it out and what was going to happen was like the worst nightmare for my problem.

Anyway we also had bad money problems. My grad stipend was pretty lousy, and her not working made matters much worse.  I resented that she did not work.  We had arguments.  I made her feel bad much of the time.  All this made for a pretty unhappy marriage at the time.

When I heard of this job being "parents" for a group home for delinquent boys, it seemed like a good deal.  We got a house without paying rent.  We got money for food and utilities.  We got paid a salary on top of it.  All we had to do was babysit these kids.

Actually they were not really "kids."  They were older teenaged boys who were in transition from juvenile detention into living on their own.  They had a probation officer who was supposed to help them find jobs or monitor their schooling and so on.  The probation officer was also our boss.

We interviewed for the job and he seemed a little worried that Karen was so young.  The kids were between 15 and 17; one of them had actually just turned 18, and they would look at Karen like she was somebody they could date, he told me candidly.  "Can you handle that?" he asked me. 

I could not see why not.  Karen had misgivings but she said nothing.  I really did not know what he meant.  He said the last couple had problems.  They left without giving him a chance to work things out.  Left him high and dry, he said. 

The "boys" were all in juvenile detention, waiting to come back to the Group Home.  We took the job.  We moved in right away. It was just about the beginning of July.  We would not last through August.

The Group Home was on north Hennepin Avenue in Minneapolis, not too far from Lake Street, not too far from Washington High School. At the corner at the traffic light, there was fast-food restaurant across the streetÑa burger chain called the Red Barn. On our side of the street at the corner was a little grocery store. We were just about half way down the block from all of this.  There was a gap in the tree line here because the elm trees had got diseased and had been cut down.  So the house stood out and the yard was bare and weedy. The house is a real estate office now.  In those days it was a duplex.  We lived in the top half.  The bottom half was empty.

The top half has a floor plan that deserves its own little drawing so that my descriptions are not so hard to follow.

This is only a rough sketch, not true to proportions.  The central hallway was not this wide of course. 

The boys had their own room with three sets of bunk beds, enough for six boys, although we would have only four. 

The place was furnished, except for out bedroom furniture which we moved in, putting our bed under the window.  I moved my desk in there to, intending it to be my place of study.  I had some summer classes.

The living room had one big picture window with two sidelights, which opened on cranks.  The sofa was against the wall there and faced the TV set in a corner nook between the living room and the dining room. 

We put our aquarium against the far wall where the door opened to go downstairs to the front of the duplex. 

The dining room had a big table, and chairs for twelve.

There was no art on the walls.  My wife added some touches.  Plants and such.  We repainted the rooms to make it "ours."  But, as we would learn, the boys owned the place, not us.

We had a week to get settled before the "boys" came home.  Being July it was hot and humid and there were no air conditioners to the place.  We, all of us, dressed pretty light, for the weather, and that proved to be an issue. 

Actually there were issues right off.  And I was not prepared to handle them.  I had no clue how to assert my authority.  I made the mistake of trying to be their friend.  And Karen made the mistake of trying to be their "mom."  They called her "mom," even though she was only a few years older than them.  She liked it.  She liked talking to them.  She wanted them to like her too.

So let me introduce the "boys."  First of all, there was Frenchy.  He was the oldest.  He had lived there the longest.  It had been his "home" for two years.  Frenchy was 17, almost 18, but not released to be on his own yet, because he had one more year of high school to do yet.  He was taller than me or Karen.  A tall lanky kid, taller than me or my wife by far.  The probation officer was vague about why he was in detention, but the kids all told stories that were hard to believe.  About him trying to kill his step-dad in North Dakota, a sheriff who they said beat him, or tried to. Frenchy was the natural leader and charming.  He was a true socio-path.  Frenchy was the first to start calling Karen "mom."  And wanting a "kiss" goodnight.  A real manipulator.

Then there was his buddy, Jon.  Jon was 16 and had the words "Fuck" and "Hell" tattooed on his knuckles.  He was short. Shorter even than my wife.  He was tough and he was a bully.  He could scare the other kids, but Frenchy.  Frenchy could persuade him to do anything.  Karen was afraid of Jon. I thought he was creepy.

The other kids were almost normal.  Steve, also 16, could not get along with his divorced mother, whom he lived with, so that is why he was there.  He was polite.  He tried to please Karen and Me.  He called me Mister, and so on.  He wanted to me a Marine and wished he could still fight in Viet Nam like a brother of his who had got killed there.  He had "muscle" magazines that he kept under his mattress and liked to look at; so the boys sometimes called him a "queer."

Then there was Larry, the youngest; he had just turned 15, but he acted like a ten-year old.  He had got sent up for setting his house on fire.  Larry was a fat red head.  Not very bright.  He always looked confused.

That was it.  We had a couple more boys come and stay over one weekend for a trial, as you will hear, but these four were ours.

The Third Week: It's Hot All the Time

I should have noticed things.  I should have been more suspicious.  Frenchy insisting on kissing my wife goodnight.  And Karen being so easily interested in his attentions.  She was not attracted to him.  It was not that.  I was not jealous. 

He was exactly the opposite of me.  Maybe again this is why he had the effect on her that he did.  He fawned on her.  I tended to be dismissive of her ideas.  He listened to her.  They would do the dishes together after supper.  He would ask her about herself and ask her opinions.  I never did.

I was pretty self-absorbed. Actually I was worried about my future and I did not think by grad advisor liked me and I did not know what he wanted.

Karen would watch TV with the boys on the sofa, while I studied in the bedroom.  I left her alone with the boys and it never occurred to me that they might get ideas.  I trusted her.  But there were temptations.  These kisses good night were getting wet.  And I wondered if Frenchy didn't try to cop a feel.  I heard Karen discouraging him. 

It was so hot and humid and uncomfortable, even nights, that it was easy to excuse, but both Frenchy and Jon took to going about the house wearing nothing but their their underwear.  Frenchy had an obviously big dick and I saw Karen glance at it his "bulge" more than a few times.

Anyway they sat on the sofa together.  Frenchy and Jon in their underwear, Steve never. Larry neither.  Steve thought it offensive.  Larry was embarrassed about it.  Frenchy would tease Karen and say to her she ought to sit in her underwear too.  Wasn't she hot wearing all those clothes?  She blushed and laughed it off but I thought it provocative that he said these things in front of me, and he actually winked at me like he thought I would think it a joke too.  Like he thought I might go along with him and tell my wife to go about the house in her bra and panties.  It was astonishing.  He really seemed to think he could con her or wheedle her into taking off her clothes.

It got me thinking about it of course. And this was one of the problems I had.  To tell the truth I was not a very good lover.  I was a bit cold to her and she was probably frustrated.  We had had a lot of sex when we first married and then I got hung up on her being my wife actually.  I found it hard to make love to her without fantasizing she was someone else, or that I was someone else doing it to her.  Actually, role playing became a the main way for me to get excited about her.  And I liked especially the bondage games.  I would blindfold and tie her hands behind her back, pretending in my own mind I was a stranger and telling her that preposterous lie, that I was going to let a stranger fuck her. I elaborated on the fantasy, going out of the room and coming in again and trying to act like a different person.  Undressing her as she was tied up helplessly.  Feeling her.  Finger fucking her.  She went along with it and even seemed to believe it, I think she liked that fantasy, and she even trembled and protested meekly.  Then I would make her suck my cock.  She liked that humiliation especially.

Now we had not made love for nearly five months.  I had been worried and preoccupied and now that we were in the group home, I could not see how I could do any bondage games.  But it got me to think.  I started thinking about actually doing it.  Blindfolding her.  Tie her hands behind her.  Pulling her shorts and underpants down, shoving up her bra.  Leaving her like that, her tits bulging under her bra, sitting on the edge of the bed and then going out and getting one of the boys to let them feel her up. 

This was really wrong.  I knew I wouldn't do it.  I didn't have the courage.  I thought of all the consequences.  We'd lose the Group Home job for sure.  I might get into some kind of other trouble.

But then I thought: if it was Frenchy, it was okay.  He's old enough.  Actually, I went to the library at the University and looked it up. In Minnesota age 16 is consensual for teenage boys.  As long as they are not forced.  And they would not be forced. They would want to do it.  If anybody was forced to do it, it was my wife.  But she would be blindfolded, she wouldn't know who it was.  And anyway, I was thinking, she wanted it.  She always enjoyed the fantasy.  She would like it.  I saw the way she looked at Frenchy's crotch and the other night Jon had got a hard-on while they sat for dinner at the dining room table.

I should tell about that.  That is what tipped me over the edge.  We had been here for a week and Larry and Steve had gone home to visit their parents.  Frenchy and Jon were alone in the house with us until Sunday night.  This was the routine every weekend, I found out. 

Both Frenchy and Jon had slept late that Saturday. They didn't get up until almost dinnertime.  It was the usual hot night.  They came to the table in their underwear.  I took a beer out of the refrigerator and Frenchy asked me if he could have one.  I knew I should say no but I shrugged so he went and got one for himself and brought one for Jon as well.

I said nothing.  Karen served up a hamburger hot dish. 

She had on short shorts and a shirt.  She was barefoot.  She was glowing (as they say of women sweating).  Frenchy complimented the casserole.  Jon guzzled his beer and went to get another one.  That is when I saw that he had a hard-on.  Karen saw it too and got red-faced.  Frenchy laughed.  When Jon came back, his dick, which was stiff and upright in his underpants, showed its shape, and Frenchy commented: "Did mom give you a hard-on, Jon?"

"Yeah," Jon said.  Sipping his beer.  Leering at my wife.  "I like her legs." And she does have nice smooth longish legs, pale.  She does not go out in the sun.  She is shy about public display of her body.  Not that she is prudish really, she just does not think she is very pretty.  Jon and Frenchy obviously thought she was pretty.  Frenchy agreed with Jon: "Yeah, she's got nice legs."

Jon leaned against the doorjamb of the kitchen and tugged at his beer.  He looked very pleased with himself.  His erection was swelling.  Karen looked over.  She looked longer than she should have.  I know she had never seen another man's erection, no man but I had ever seen her naked, and she had never seen another man naked.  So as Jon stood there and his erection enlarged the head of it protruded from his undershorts.  A thick little red-capped dick.  Jon saw her look.

She turned away.  Frenchy, taking all this in, said: "It's okay, mom.  You can look."

He looked back at Jon and nodded.  Jon straightened and sauntered to the table and stood between my wife and me.  He faced her.  He put his beer down. She looked at the bottle. 

He said nothing. He just pushed her underpants down in one motion and my wife, flushed, a look of surprise and curiosity on her face, and stared open-mouthed at his stiff prick, not a foot from her face.  Frenchy laughed.

I did not know what to say.  I stood up.  I said: "What are you doing?"  Karen had stared longer than she should have, but then turned her head away. 

Jon stepped out of her undershorts and went back to sit at his chair, his stiff dick waggled. 

Frenchy laughed hard and Karen looked at him angrily and then left the table. She went to our bedroom.

I said nothing.  I did not know what to say.  The whole thing was incredible.

Frenchy got up and went after Karen.  She had not locked the door to the bedroom. He threw it open.  I saw him, heard him standing in the doorway when he said to her: "Fair is fair, mom. He showed you his.  You come out and strip for him." 

I was shocked.  And confused.  Frenchy saw me and laughed. I heard Jon laughing.  I said: "Frenchy . . . what are you doing?"

He ignored me. He spoke to Karen: "Well, mom?"

She must have gone to the door.  It slammed violently.  Frenchy laughed. He winked at me.

He opened the door and went into the bedroom.  I followed.

I found him sitting next to my sobbing wife on our bed, cuddling her, soothing her with words of comfort, while she was protesting, but not resisting his embrace.  He said to her that he was sorry.  He did not mean that she would be so upset.  He said he thought it would amuse her.  He thought she would like it.  He thought that Jon had a nice prick.  "Don't you think so, mom?" he asked her, smiling, mocking her.  She looked horrified.

I said plainly that this was wrong and he should leave but he did not listen to me.

She looked at me with desperation.  I did not know what to do.  Frenchy laughed.  He let go of her, but first he leaned and kissed he mouth, and I saw how she responded.  It gave me a strange pang. 

Then he said again he was sorry and would go tell Jon to put his underpants back on.  They would all watch TV together and be like a normal family.  She would come out.  "Please?"  She nodded.  He said he would see her later.  Again, he winked at me as he left the room. Karen looked at me abjectly and burst into tears, and I went to sit beside her and hold her.  She cried in my arms.

She did not go out of the room for the rest of the night.  I brought her iced tea.  I went out to the living room to find that Jon was sitting on the sofa and had not put back on his underpants; he still had a hard-on.  He masturbated openly.  I was speechless. Frenchy asked when was Karen coming out. I said she was not going to come out.

I said nothing more.  I went back to the bedroom.  I think they went out in the middle of the night.  I said nothing to them about it and neither did Karen.  We really were in over our heads.

When Steve and Larry returned, I had no doubt that they told them all about it.  Steve predictably did not believe them and Larry just gave big wide eyes in wonder at it all.

I pretended it had not happened, which was enough for Steve, but Frenchy obviously thought me a fool and Jon treated me with contempt.  Karen was afraid of being alone with him.  She confided this to Frenchy, however, not to me, and she depended upon Frenchy to "protect" her and he "promised" he would.