Grounded

Dear Literoticians,

Please be gentle to this product of my pen, as it is my first submission. It's not just my first time to publish on your favourite erotic story website, but also a story about a young man and woman doing 'it' for the first time. Furthermore it's the first time I've written a story in English.

Grand Teton helped me by editing my manuscript, for which I thank him dearly. All failures in English spelling and grammar that could still disturb you, are probably in the parts were I made changes at the last moment, so after Grand Teton did his salutary job.

Ed Marcgrave.

*****

The bell button was pushed firm and decisive. The bell wasn't one of those over-civilized 'ding-dongs' that produced the same sound whatever way you pushed its button, no, its ringing went on as long as you would push it and seemed to adjust to the force with which it was pushed. So Bob Thomson, the man who came to de door to answer it, could never have guessed from the sound of it how nervous Harry Davis, the young man waiting outside, was, as he had not seen him walking up the path crossing the front yard five minutes before and hesitating and hesitating again between each attempt to find the courage to press the button. Harry was worried Heather, Bob's daughter, would be angry with him because he came to see her, as she had refused his offer to do their homework together, saying she had other obligations, without pointing them out. Therefore it seemed she was avoiding him and, though the homework had been scheduled in the afternoon after the last lessons at school, she didn't say she wanted him to help her that night instead.

He wasn't surprised to find someone else, not Heather, answering the door, but Bob was more impressive than he had imagined her father to be. Still he was able to say the first phrase he had prepared.

"Good evening, sir. Are you Mr. Thomson?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I'm Harry Davis. I go to high school with Heather. We're in the same grade." Harry spoke the words he had prepared rather than answering Bob's 'Why?', "Is Heather in?"

"You want to see her?"

"Yes, sir, I was worried as she couldn't come over to do homework together. She could use some help preparing for the test tomorrow."

"Help with homework, huh... How intimate are you with my daughter?"

If Harry had hesitated an hour in front of Heather's house he still wouldn't have been prepared for that question. He stammered, starting several sentences before he had found the only words that constituted the right answer to such an impertinent question.

"I, uuh... We... We, uh... I think I... I don't have to answer that question." As he spoke the words he felt he had to explain.

"I mean, if the answer is 'no' and I would tell you so, I would have to tell you also the next time you asked, even if the answer had to be 'yes' by then."

"So the two of you have been intimate."

"I didn't say so, sir... It's just not right for me to answer that question, telling you any intimacies I might know about your daughter. If my father would ask, I would tell everything there was to tell, except for the name of the girl. It's for her father to question her. So you should ask her. I think she would give an honest answer... I would only come to you and tell you if I would have asked her to marry me. Then I would ask you and your wife for permission. And my parents too, telling them her name, but only if she had accepted my proposal. I didn't pop the question to Heather though. Nor to any other girl."

Bob seemed to resign himself to the fact he didn't get his answer, though Harry felt he should be unsatisfied by the babbling of the young man at the door.

"Do you like my daughter?" Bob asked another only slightly less personal question.

"Very much so, sir. That's why I'm worried about her history test tomorrow."

"So you would never bully her?"

"No, sir. Never!"

"And you came to help her with her homework?"

"Yes, sir."

"She's grounded."

Harry feared she wouldn't be allowed to entertain guys, not even to let them help her doing her homework at home.

"So you can only do homework with her in the living room, with me and my wife present."

"Thank you, sir!" Harry said enthusiastically, as he got much more than he had hoped for. Of course he had feared Heather was avoiding him, but his common sense had told him she might be grounded for some reason and didn't want to admit it to her fellow-students. Of course she still could be angry with him for popping in and finding out, but with her dad and mom in the same room, she probably wouldn't act so angry that he couldn't explain and therefore calm her down. Actually she never had been acting angry towards him, but in the same situation with the tables turned he would act pissed off to hide his shame over letting his parents rule his life that way.

Mr. Thomson had stepped aside to let the homework helper pass. Harry stepped in and went to the indicated door. As he opened it he found Heather and a woman, presumably her mom, sitting leisurely side by side on the carpeted floor in front of a couch, resting their backs against it, both looking up from reading a book. The only thing out of the ordinary was they both were stark naked. No wonder Heather's face showed she was shocked by his appearance. A wonder her mother could muster a friendly smile, a welcoming smile and at the time an amused smile, amused over his surprised gaze.

"The house rules here are, a grounded daughter shall spend her evenings at home naked," said Bob from behind him. Harry turned his face to look back at him hoping Heather would be glad to get the opportunity to hide herself somehow.

"Another house rule says mothers should morally support their daughters," continued Bob, "And since she thought the one month grounding I gave Heather was too much punishment, Barbara told me she would spent all month's evenings naked with Heather to support her."

"And as he saw I was serious about it," Barbara added, "Bob shortened the grounding to two weeks on the condition Heather and I spent the time naked in the lounge, whoever might drop by." She stood and greeted him, introducing herself as Barbara Thomson, Heather's mother, and asking if he was a friend of her daughter.

"It's Harry Davis, one of the friends from high school in the homework club" Heather introduced him. She had not really hidden herself, only crossed her legs so her pubes were no longer visible to Harry and raised her book a little so he could only see the top half of her breasts.

"Glad to meet you, Harry," Barbara offered him her hand and he took it. He looked her in the eyes as he said his 'How do you do', but couldn't prevent also seeing Barbara's breast move with the shaking of their hands. They were very nice looking breasts, and they showed that she wore a bikini top when sunning, but with the shoulder straps lowered to diminish the tan lines. The way they moved with her handshaking added to their attractiveness.

"He came to help you since he was afraid that without help you wouldn't pass your history test tomorrow," Bob explained to his daughter, "You'd better take his help as I don't want to see that 'D-score' again on your final report this year. Sit at the table, the two of you."

Harry was glad Heather had not acted angry with him and only hid herself a little in the embarrassing situation she and her mother were in, having to be naked in the living room as people, normally clothed people, dropped by. He couldn't think of anything bad enough Heather might have done to earn this humiliation. Probably her mom, being supportive in the way she was, helped a lot to overcome her shame in front of him.

"Sir, Madam, I think I should be as supportive to Heather as her mother is," Harry gave his opinion, "I wouldn't want to embarrass you," he continued speaking to Barbara directly, "Having to be naked in front of Heather's friends. I hope you and Heather feel less embarrassed when I undress too."

Barbara's smile returned, more than friendly now.

"Wow. You're a real gentleman," she said, "doing whatever it takes to make the ladies feel comfortable. Thank you, kind sir."

"I don't think I like the idea," Bob said less enthusiastically, "of my grounded daughter seeing her boyfriend naked. What penalty remains if he gets stark naked too."

"He's not my boyfriend," Heather argued, and started to explain once again about the homework club, but she was interrupted.

"Don't be so crude," her mom said to her dad. "Now you get three people taking a penalty, where you only penalized one. For a young man it's a tough punishment having to stand naked in front of her parents the first time he visits the house of his girlfr..., I mean homework buddy. You've been a teenage boy yourself once, so you should know."

"You might have a point... OK, I go for it. Strip, homework buddy!"

"You don't have to, on my behalf," Heather offered as Harry started to unbutton his shirt. "You're doing a good deed already coming over to help me."

"You never should refuse a good gentleman the chivalry he's offering, especially if it includes being chivalrous to an older lady," her mother protested.

"I see," her father commented, "you're remarkably eager to see the young lad naked."

Barbara just smiled at that and watched Harry strip. Not that he deliberately put on a show, but even without that he showed her a lot of skin.

"You've a nice all over tan," she observed, showing she had been watching him as attentive as he had watched her. "Does your backyard offer that much privacy or do you have an electric sun parlour?"

"It's from the real sun," Harry answered. "Where can I put my clothes?" He didn't seem to want to talk more about the quality of his nudity and the way it was obtained. As he was in the hall again to put the clothes on the coat-rack as directed, he still could hear the soft spoken comment from Bob.

"You noticed he didn't sport a boner? Must be a cool lad, or would it be nerves as we, the parents, are present?"

He changed the subject and spoke aloud as Harry entered the room again.

"Heather, this young man tells me I should ask you if you've been intimate with someone, anyone, and you will answer me honestly. So go ahead."

Heather was as unprepared for a request like that as Harry had been at the front door. Still, she didn't stammer. Of course it helped that her conscience was clear.

"I've not been intimate with anyone. Not intimate in the sense of your definition of being intimate with someone. The most intimate I got with a guy was a peck on the cheek to congratulate me with my birthday last winter. Being pecked on the cheek with a group of your friends watching sure doesn't feel intimate, as intimacy is something you share with just one other person. The whole group giving me a peck on the cheek on the same occasion didn't make it more intimate either. My best friend, Gini, telling me about her secret love for a boy I know, is much more intimate. Or Harry putting an arm around me when I felt I was going to blow another history test, to assure me I would do better, even well, the next test and that it isn't my fault I have been bad at history as Mrs. Norris is a bad history teacher. Taking me with him to his grandfather to listen to him telling about history as history should be told even felt intimate as he took me to his private world beyond school. But you don't consider that intimate. For you, intimacy only starts when you reach third base on a date."

"Tell me about the arm around. What was the hand doing?"

"Just holding me... At my waist on the other side from where he sat beside me. His hand only on the outside of my clothes. He pulled me to him each time I started to sob, making me feel safe, protected by the arm around me, a strong arm and a strong hand and a strong chest he was pulling me into. Making me feel home in the warmth of his body near to me. Why do you want to know? Intimacy with someone to you is just fucking that person."

"Fucking someone is being very intimate with someone," Bob agreed with her, but then denied it was just that. "But just fucking, without feeling an arm or a leg around you, without the body warmth of the person you're with, that isn't being intimate, that's just fucking. Fucking yourself with a dildo isn't intimate at all if you don't use your imagination and fantasize a real person is there with you, the dildo being the dick of the boy you fancy or being held by the lesbian girlfriend who wants to pleasure you so much you will feel your soul shake when you come."

Harry felt embarrassed having to witness this conversation. His parents had given him their own version of Sex Ed, which he thought had been a lot better than the sex education at school years later, but it never was as graphic as this. His parents would never tell him something this sexual when a friend from school was visiting, not even in less graphic words. He was shocked when Heather answered her dad.

"If you really think that's intimate. Yes, I've been intimate with a vibrator. Mom's smallest vibrator... I've cleaned it thoroughly afterward, Mom... as I was curious how it would feel. I tried to fantasize it was a real guy's slong, but I know real penises don't vibrate. I tried it with the buzzer off, just sliding it in and out of my punany, but I couldn't get myself off just sliding the thing in and out. I had to finger myself frantically with my other hand or, better still, use my fingers and the buzzer both. I never saw Harry's wiener and I never have felt it up, even not from outside his pants, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't look like or feel like Mom's vibrators. Using all my imagination to make a fantasy in which the vibrator is Harry's wiener, won't change that. Are you satisfied now I confessed I tried to be intimate with Harry in a fantasy and with a made-up stiffy?"

During the last words she looked Bob piercingly in the eyes. As she finished she cast a glance at Harry, but then looked away quickly, suddenly blushing crimson.

"You don't have to apologize for using my vibrators," Barbara said, as Bob apparently had stopped the cross examination. "If my mother had possessed sex toys, I'm sure I would have used them too. It's not easy for a teenage girl to go to the shop and ask for that kind of stuff. So feel free and try the others too. I've a nice little dildo too, that looks like a boy's stiffy. It fits nicely in my arse and Bob likes to put it in there when we fuck and pretend we're having a threesome with another guy doing a DP."

Harry also looked away blushing at the ease with which Heather's mother talked about things like that to Heather with a stranger like himself in the room.

"Thanks for the offer, Mom, but I don't think I will take you up on it. If you could live without them when you were a teenager and Grandma didn't possess them, I for sure can live without them. And thanks, Dad, for making me tell those things. I don't think you ever confessed to your first girlfriend even before you two were an item, that you masturbated fantasizing over her. And I'm pretty sure Grandpa didn't make you confess in the presence of the girl." Heather's words had been bitter, not angry, 'bitter and sad,' you could say.

"I'm sorry, girl," Bob offered. He had not asked further as he had become conscious himself -while Heather told him about using her mother's vibrator while thinking of Harry- how humiliating it had to be for her with the guy listening too. She was right he had made her tell.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated, "I'll make it up to you as soon as you're no longer grounded. For now I have some consolation though. That lad Harry is a good lad. He will never bully you for your confession. Probably won't even tease you with it. Surely won't tell anybody. So, go do your homework together and just forget about it."

Neither Harry nor Heather thought it was possible that they'd forget about it, but they sat down at the table to do the homework.

"I'm sorry too," Harry said in a low voice leaning over to Heather, "But your father is right I won't bully you and won't tell anyone." He had his schoolbag on the table to get some papers out, but turned back to Heather as she suddenly sobbed. In a reflex he put his arm around her and soothed her with a soft voice.

"You don't have to cry. It's only words... But I am glad you thought of me... when doing that. I've been thinking a lot about you lately... when I touch myself... Please, don't cry. It's not easy having parents, I know... But be glad they don't neglect you."

Heather didn't really cry, she just sobbed. More forceful so as Harry did his confession that was meant as consolation. He pulled her in more tight to calm her down and looked over his shoulder to her parents to fight off their gaze and prevent them from saying anything about it or, even worse, come over and try and calm Heather down. They didn't. On their faces was just regret on what they had done to their daughter. As Barbara saw Harry looking at her a vague smile and a little nod of her head seemed to encourage him to keep on consoling Heather. As he turned his face back to Heather's he paused in midway to nuzzle her ear. All this happened while Harry was softly speaking. During his last two phrases Heather's sobbing calmed down.

"Thanks" she said turning to face him. Her head turned further to cast a glance on her parents. They couldn't be sure if the expression on her face was accusing or challenging, but as she turned back they were sure the peck she gave Harry on the cheek was grateful and lovingly. With that Heather and Harry had repeated all the real intimacies they had shared and she had confessed to her father. It felt less intimate with her parents watching, but it was more intimate because this time they were stark naked. Her parents just sat in silence while Harry and Heather took to work. She said she had read all they were supposed to read in the afternoon and she had tried not to hear Mrs. Norris' boring voice as she did so, but Harry's grandfather's enthusiastic one instead. It had made reading a lot less boring, even interesting. When he came in she had been reading for a second time, trying to think of what parts of the text would have made grandfather curious to learn more from other sources and what interesting coherences there were between the events that had been covered in this part of the book and parts they had read before. Harry filled her in with the things his grandfather had added to the textbook that afternoon as he visited him. It had been contagious as Harry spoke as passionate as his grandfather when telling about historic events.

Only one of Heather's parents interrupted, Barbara, but only to bring them something to drink. After that it became a game of asking each other like a quiz, but two ways and discussing where they had different views. To Harry it was strange Heather kept forgetting the years, not just because Mrs. Norris was so keen on them, but even more while she was good at mathematics, even helping him doing his algebra homework. "If you're not sure of a year at the test write something like it was in the second term of president James Medison, like you told me not just to write down the answers in algebra but also the calculations that let to them. Years is just places in history, and as you are better than me naming the president's names and in the right order, their governments are in a way places in history too. When you can add which president came next..."

"The other James. Monroe."

"... or an event just before and just after the thing happened of which she asks the year, she should give you points for it...

Were there just two James' president?"

"No, there was also James Knox Polk, but that's the... uh, sixth after Monroe... and James Abram Garfield much later, at the end of the century, and Jimmy Carter was officially James Earl Carter, but that was almost another century further in time."